Jemima Kelly is trying to pave her way to happiness

In my day job as an FT columnistI took a skeptical, often irreverent view of the world around me. I tend to be someone who challenges everyone – not because of that, but because I’m suspicious when a whole group of people believe the same thing. I was often called a “contrasha”. I once hosted a podcast series called The Skeptic’s Guide to Crypto. I have the word “snark” in my X bio. You got it.

So you might be surprised to hear some of the things I do in my spare time. I use the word “synchronicity” without any irony. I swear by mine definitely mental kinesiologist. I’m a member of a clan called the Sisters of the Sanitary Cloth (both the descriptor and our name are a bit gibberish, though the latter more than the former). I became obsessed Co-staran app that claims to use NASA data to give you “super-accurate” AI-generated horoscopes, ahem. (It was recommended to me by an older colleague. I won’t mention names.) I write Morning Pages, as advocated by Julia Cameron, author of the creativity bible The path of the artist. I, you know, “do the job”.

I mostly tap to get off the wheel of doom

But how can someone who is so wary of consensus views and so passionate about the importance of truth and objectivity be so into what many of you might consider quackery? I think it’s very simple: I’m open-minded. And while I believe in the value of reason and empiricism, I would also argue that this is actually the case rational explore alternative approaches to science, medicine and life.

So I find myself standing under a chandelier in a sumptuous Edwardian suite at the Savoy Hotel, using my fingertips to gently tap my “eyebrows” as silent tears stream down my cheeks. “I feel like I’m on a never-ending dating hamster wheel,” I repeat after my instructor as I tap (we’ve already talked about how I feel; she’s not just guessing). “I’ve had enough” — I move my fingertips down to tap just near my eyes. “Ugh” — under my eyes. “Bleurgh” — under my nose. “So many dates” – under my lower lip. “So many meetings!” — clavicle. “But I’m willing to stay open to love” – ​​off the top of my head. “And every day I trust my intuition more and more” — let’s go back to my eyebrows. And so on.

My instructor is Poppy Delbridgea former Warner Brothers executive who left the world of entertainment television in 2018 to devote herself full-time to tapping, a mostly standalone form of therapy that combines modern psychology and ancient Chinese medicine. I came across her a few months ago, after I decided it was about time I met the love of my life. I went to the “taster session” feeling pretty fishy, ​​spent most of our hour together in a state of deep cathartic crying (she had that effect on me in all of our one-on-one sessions), and left feeling like I was floating on air.

Now I tap every day. I’m a tapoholic. Guided by Delbridge’s Rapid Tapping app as well as her book, PressingI tapped on park benches, in saunas, on a Greek island, in a bathtub. I completed her personal empowerment program “Pivot into Power” (fellow graduates include British Fashion Council CEO Caroline Rush and The Royle family co-writer Phil Mealey). I was on one of her “speed retreats” (our group of five included sister Delevingne and a superfan who flew in from the Caribbean). And now I’m doing her “30-Day Love Cleanse,” which, like all of Delbridge’s programs, involves not only tapping, but also some pretty intense soul-searching and personal development work.

Tapping is a so-called “somatic” therapy, meaning it focuses on the mind-body connection. It has its roots in ancient Chinese medicine, but was invented by an American psychologist in the 1980s and then simplified by one of his students in the 90s to become the “Emotional Freedom Technique”. With EFT, you tap nine major “meridian points”—pressure points also used for acupuncture—to release trapped energy from traumatic experiences stored in the body. While some have dismissed it as pseudoscience—Gary Bakker, a clinical psychologist and lecturer at the University of Tasmania, calls tapping “purple hat therapy” and tells me “there’s no evidence whatsoever that tapping your imaginary meridians does anything for a clinical psychological problem”—there are studies who claim that tapping can be a way to treat depression, anxiety, PTSD, food cravings, and even physical pain and symptoms of autoimmune conditions.

And the more I tapped, the more I found it helped me with more problems — especially stress, lack of motivation, and self-doubt.

Delbridge’s version, “Rapid Tapping,” focuses on the seven meridian points that EFT uses and also usually includes an initial massage of the “pain points”—the fleshy areas about an inch below the collarbones that are tender to the touch—as well as a “head hug” at the end ( her app includes an instructional video.) She wants to use tapping to focus less on moving on from the bad things in the past, as with traditional EFT, and more on the good things in the future, by “redirecting our neural pathways.” In other words: “manifest” the things you want in your life.

If this sounds silly, rest assured that it doesn’t have that distinctly woo-woo brand of toxic positivity. The fact that each session starts with saying out loud what you really feel and, if it’s negative, repeating it until the feeling is less acute is part of what I think makes this practice so beneficial. Not only does it feel like you’re releasing tension when you say your negative feelings out loud, but some of them start to seem a little funny after you do.

Most touches begin by asking you to rate how you feel — either generally or about a specific issue — and end by asking you to rate again. Some days my emotions just run high; other days my mood completely changes in a matter of minutes. Whatever it’s doing, it seems to be doing something. I also sigh when I tap, a lot. Other people yawn. “I joke that I’m the only public speaker who doesn’t get offended when the whole audience is yawning,” says Nick Ortner, who has more than 100,000 subscribers to his app, The Tapping Solution.

“At the very least, you’re resetting your nervous system into an antisympathetic state—from fight or flight to rest and relaxation,” says Dr. Tara Swart, a neuroscientist and one of Delbridge’s clients, who now pours most days. “People who are not used to being in a state of relaxed alertness may feel drowsy.”

As for me, while I may not have met the love of my life yet, sigh, I feel like I’ve knocked down a number of obstacles – or “love blocks” – since my first session with Delbridge back in May. I also seem to spend a lot less time self-sabotaging and regulate my emotions more successfully. I now use tapping as part of my morning routine, and sometimes in other parts of the day, and I find it similar to meditation in the way it grounds me, although it’s usually more uplifting, motivating, and can be more focused if you want it to be.

I assure you I felt like a fool—a fool! — the first time I did it, but these days tapping your face and chest with your fingertips feels strangely natural. Try it, I say. What’s the worst that can happen?