All in Her Head takes us on an enlightened journey into one woman's psyche. Bridget Holiday is a 41-year-old freelance writer who is obsessed with her weight. In this mind-expanding novel, she meets a beginning hypnotherapist who wants to help her confront her demons.
Instead, Bridget regresses back to a time before her birth, when she is still in spirit form. Seeking help from her yoga teacher, Bridget is guided through this new astral world, where she meets up with her dead boyfriend. When faced with her own life-or-death crisis, Bridget realizes that her only hope for salvation is to embrace the life she is now living.
All in Her Head is all about learning to love your inner self. If you are able to do that, you may open yourself up to connect with your soul mate and with your dreams.
Hey, what was that loud noise? She looked to her left, saw the door of her car bent inward, a stranger’s blond hair right THERE, her car skating sideways in slow motion. She knew to pull the emergency brake, no spinning, just skating into oh no the brick liquor store on the corner if she could just not hit the brick but the glass window steering wheel locked up time moving slowly car moving quickly BAM. Crash. Bam again. Silence.
Pure light, no pain. Bridget had always thought when you died, there would be awful pain, excruciating physical suffering. But no, it wasn’t like that at all, she thought as she looked over her lifeless body from above, well-intentioned rescuers working to resuscitate the mangled remains. No pain, and no fear at all. Fortunately, she had read enough after-death experiences to understand what was happening.
How wonderful to be free of that body! She is NOT her body, after all! Ironically, looking down from this perspective, it didn’t look all that bad. The blood, yes gross, and the bone protruding from her leg, not attractive, but objectively she wasn’t all that fat. (How could she ever consider liposuction? Good thing she got canned so she couldn’t afford it!) In fact, she looked pretty fit. It looked pretty fit. Wasn’t hers anymore, was it? What a shame.
But oh, she felt so FREE… so good! Being a ghost was awesome. Could anyone see her, sense her presence? Oohhhh, there’s the tunnel everyone talks about! Wonder what’s in there?
Hands, hands, disembodied hands coming at her from every angle. What could be a horror film turned out to be a reassuring hug. Who did these welcoming hands belong to? Marcus? Yoo hoo, are you there? Marcus?
Wait, she felt a falling sensation. This wasn’t her time to go. No! But she liked it here. It was so warm and inviting, like being in the midst of pure Love. The light was blinding now, almost too beautiful, if that’s possible. What did Jodie Foster say in the movie, Contact, when she traveled through space? “No words… no words.” How does one explain things without a body? How does one have emotion without a body? It all made sense now. How could she have learned without that “used” body of hers?
The hands now felt like bird feathers, like wings tickling her back to reality. But this, THIS, was reality! How could everyone NOT know this? This love, this light, this was the real Truth. How could she have been so dumb on earth?
But no judgment. She could see, now, the end of the tunnel leading to the boardroom of her visions. She saw a circle of beings. Was that Sofia? But the hands, the familiar hands were drawing her back now, faster and faster, as if in a wormhole. Was she in space? Is Heaven part of outer space? Or maybe she entered a new time. Future or past? Didn’t matter. Linear stuff doesn’t matter now. No matter. Hands taking her back. Don’t want to go, but have to go back.
“Yes, my Beloved,” she heard. “You must. It is not your time to come home yet. You have a purpose you haven’t yet fulfilled.”
From this height, she could see that all of existence is one. One indivisible whole. Whole and complete.
Thunk. She was back.