Sophrology & Self-Hypnosis: My Journey from Excruciating Pain to a Life Restored

“Sacred Journeys of the Flesh and Spirit"

Preface from the Elder

This is my story. It is raw. It is difficult. But it is real.

I share it not for pity or praise, but to show that even from the darkest places, we can return—if we choose to listen to the breath, accept the pain, and reconnect with Nature as the only true constant.

— Vincent Marty, Elder of Naturis Sancta

How It Happened: The Moment That Changed Everything

It all began in April 2010. At the time, I was working at Campbelltown Hospital as a Security and Patient Services Officer. That morning, I was on patient care duty and called to transfer a conscious patient from the Intensive Care Unit to the surgical ward—located in another building of the hospital.

The patient was large and connected to oxygen and heart-monitoring equipment. A nurse was assigned to assist with the transfer. We had to manually push the hospital bed through corridors, down one set of lifts, through more corridors, and finally to a set of old, narrow service lifts. These lifts never aligned properly with the floor level.

That day, the lift had stopped slightly above the floor. I gave the bed a strong push to lift the front wheels over the lip. As the bed rolled forward, the rear wheels jammed between the lift cage and floor. We were stuck. The patient became distressed, his heart rate increasing visibly. The nurse and I, both positioned at the foot of the bed, could not reach or reassure him. A crowd began to gather behind us.

I radioed security, but they were caught up in a Code Black incident. I contacted the hospital switchboard to send maintenance. They too were unavailable.

With no help coming and the patient worsening, the nurse and I gave a powerful lift and shove. The bed cleared. I felt a sharp pinch in my lower back but ignored it and completed the transfer.

Minutes later, I was preparing to move another patient when an unbearable pain exploded through my body. I froze. I couldn’t speak. Tears welled in my eyes as I stood, paralyzed. The nurses nearby saw something was wrong and called for help. ICU and HDU staff rushed in.

I was known for being upbeat, always joking with the team. Now I was silent and locked in pain. They placed me in a wheelchair and rushed me to Emergency. Even the smallest movement intensified the pain. I was triaged, scanned, and monitored for hours before being discharged with a letter for my GP. I couldn’t walk or drive. Transport home was arranged.

That was the moment everything changed.

Side Note: The nurse who assisted me that day also suffered a severe shoulder injury. She underwent several surgeries and, sadly, never returned to work. It’s a reminder that we both paid a heavy price that day—trying to do our jobs with compassion in a system already overstretched.

Before that, in my search for answers, I even sent my full medical file—including scans, reports, and specialist notes—to leading spinal injury teams overseas. Clinics in Germany, France, and China each proposed radically different solutions: spinal fusion, disc replacement, and stem cell regeneration. Each option carried a staggering cost and uncertain outcomes—enough to force me to consider selling the family home. I was financially and emotionally exhausted.

Descent into Pain and Despair

Over the next three years, I spiraled. I saw three GPs and seventeen specialists. I was prescribed 120mg of OxyContin daily, 700mg of Lyrica, and regular doses of Panadeine Forte. The pain never left. The medications dulled more than the pain—they dulled me.

I became angry. I snapped at those I loved. I resented people who could walk, work, move freely. I was filled with rage and, paradoxically, felt completely empty. At times, I felt like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life—a man slowly losing himself.

My personality changed. I wasn’t me anymore.

I tried connecting with others through online forums for injured workers. But I quickly noticed something odd: different users using the same words, phrases, even recommending the same law firm. It felt scripted. Manipulated. I suspected the forum was being used to funnel people to a specific firm.

I logged off for good, disillusioned.

What made it worse was discovering that the hospital’s insurer had hired private investigators to watch me. They parked outside my home. They followed taxis that took me to appointments. Despite confronting medical evidence, I was treated like a fraud.

I felt insulted. Violated. Powerless.

And eventually, I reached the point where I seriously considered ending my life.

I didn’t want to be a burden. I saw no future, no path back. The pain was relentless. The medication stole my mind. The system robbed me of dignity. I was alone, trapped in a body that had become a prison.

A Voice in the Dark

Then came a phone call.

It was from my sister’s ex-partner, Andres. We hadn’t spoken in years. He had heard about my condition and suggested I look into something called Sophrology and self-hypnosis.

At the time, I was numb and fogged by medication. I told him where to go.

But something about that call stayed with me. It resurfaced in a rare moment of clarity.

And something remarkable happened: my suicidal thoughts vanished. Just like that. One single human connection, one unexpected voice, washed away the plans I had made to end my life. I can’t fully explain why, but I am forever grateful that he made that call.

I began reading. Learning. Trying. At first, I failed. Repeatedly. But I kept coming back. And it changed something in me. Even early attempts at meditation seemed to flip a mental switch toward something more positive. I wasn’t healed, but something had awakened.

Sadly, Andres passed away later from a cardiac arrest. I never got the chance to thank him.

The Turning Point

Then I made a reckless, desperate decision: to quit all medications cold turkey.

Do not do what I did.

I locked myself in the guest room and endured five days of unfiltered hell. Vomiting. Shaking. Hallucinating. Screaming. Punching walls. On day six, I collapsed. I woke up a day later—broken, but clear.

I was lucky to survive.

When I told my doctor I had stopped all medication, he was furious. He shouted at me, calling it reckless and irresponsible. He kept repeating how lucky I was to still be alive. He immediately organised a full medical check-up, worried that I may have damaged my heart, kidneys, or other vital organs.

But as it turned out, I was indeed lucky. My foggy brain and blind determination had nearly killed me.

Yet I survived.

Do not do what I did.

I was lucky to survive.

Now I was ready to fight.

Reclaiming My Life

With a clear mind, I returned to Sophrology and self-hypnosis. I practiced daily. Breathing. Visualisation. Entering deep states of awareness. I didn’t fight the pain—I accepted it. I reframed it. I learned to place it in a mental box.

Slowly, I rebuilt myself.

I began walking bare feet around the backyard. Then carrying light weights. Within three months, I was walking 30 minutes. In six, I could walk an hour.

Six years after my injury, I returned to work.

Two years later, I was hiking 30km—carrying a 23 to 27 kg backpack. Sometimes nude again, under the sun and sky, feeling reborn.

In Memory of Andres

I believe I owe my life to Andres. One unexpected phone call—offered without agenda, without judgment—was enough to break the darkest thoughts circling my mind. I never got to thank him before he passed away from a sudden cardiac arrest. But I honour him here, with full sincerity and eternal gratitude. His call gave me back my life.

Final Reflection

So, were the specialists wrong? Was this mind over matter? Is Sophrology a true healing practice?

I don’t have all the answers.

But I’m not in a wheelchair. I’m walking. Living. Breathing.

To anyone living in pain, in darkness, or under the weight of hopelessness:

There is a way back.

It may not be easy. It may not be clear. But the body and spirit, when connected and respected, can do extraordinary things.

I am living proof.

This testimony is part of the living scripture of Naturis Sancta. May it guide others to reconnect with Nature, shed what burdens them, and rediscover who they truly are.