Making Me Feel Like I’ve Never Been Born

BY HARRY CHEADLE

PHOTOS BY MICHAEL de LEON

Like most people, I have deep-seated psychological problems that make me depressed, misanthropic, noncommittal, and filled with self-loathing. My normal therapeutic regimen involves lots of alcohol and emotional suppression.

Vice

recently hired me as an editorial assistant and since then things have been worse than ever, so I decided I needed to take some form of action. Unfortunately, I don’t have the money or patience to sit through months—let alone years—of psychoanalysis, and Jesus thoroughly creeps me out. I was seeking a quicker way to purge my demons.

Thankfully, I discovered rebirthing, a form of therapy based on the theory that personality disorders form immediately after we slide out of our mothers’ vaginas. Rebirthing gained some attention in 2000, when a couple of therapists in Durham, North Carolina, wrapped a ten-year-old girl in a blanket, covered her in pillows, and leaned on her as they instructed her to “fight to live.” The ordeal was supposed to simulate birthing contractions and correct behavioral problems her adopted mother found annoying. Instead the girl suffocated and died. This was exactly the kind of intensive yet abbreviated procedure I was seeking, preferably without the dying part.

I called dozens of rebirthers, but nobody was willing to roll me up in a blanket and lie on top of me while I tried to squirm out. Every potential life-giver I spoke with recommended a less intense form of rebirthing known as breathwork, which uses (you guessed it) breathing techniques and lots of “energy” to arrive at many of the same goals. It’s also practiced by several holistic healers in New York City. Eventually, I found a guy named Tony Klatt who was willing to rebirth me for free if I wrote about the experience. Here’s what happened.

Tony has 18 guitars in his apartment, which is also littered with religious imagery. A couple of days before my rebirthing he sent me an email in which he said, “Rebirthing is my favorite thing to do.” After meeting him I had no doubt that this statement was true.

We sat on the floor (there were no chairs) and Tony bragged to me about how awesome rebirthing was and how good he was at doing it. He also told me rebirthing works “even if you don’t believe in it.” “Good,” I thought.

The gist of this sign is that rebirthing increases one’s happiness, which I found reassuring. When I was dragged to church as a kid, I don’t remember anyone saying, “We go to church to get happier.” Like all New Agers, Tony believes in the power of positive affirmation. He advised me to repeatedly tell myself that I’m a talented and worthwhile individual and to create a positive “videotape” of my future in my head. I tried to stay attentive, but I felt myself zoning out. I wondered if he walked around barefoot a lot. I didn’t see shoes anywhere.

Tony then talked me through the rest of the steps. First I closed my eyes and lay flat on the floor with my hands at my sides. My body was pointed northward, because that’s the most energized direction for some reason. I was instructed to breathe deeply and rhythmically, like I was jogging. Extraordinarily chilled-out music with chimes and soft chanting played in the background. I was shivering, so Tony put a blanket over me and tucked me in like an infant. He told me that he once had to be wrapped in four jackets during a rebirthing session, and even then he was cold. Moments later I experienced what I can only describe as a yawning attack. My mouth began involuntarily opening as wide as it could and sucking in so much air that my body started trembling. After about an hour of extremely intense breathing I finally threw the blanket off and sat up. It felt like I had awoken from the best nap of my life but also like I had accomplished something really impressive completely by accident.

Tony talked about the “five selves” and how they were interconnected, or something along those lines, but I was too busy being surprised about how good I felt to listen to him. This is how he looked when I left him. Apparently, this is what years of rebirthing does to your face.

Rebirthing is exactly the kind of thing I used to think only stupid people who wear crystals as jewelry were into, but I have to admit that I felt pretty good afterward. Not tired or hungover or stressed-out, just really content, like I had done the perfect amount of drugs. I still have reservations about the effectiveness of rebirthing, but I’m also pretty sure it’s not complete bullshit.