‘I feel weird,’ I say, slightly embarrassed. My mouth is twitching and my whole body feels so awkward and uncomfortable. I feel like I want to move, but I can’t.

‘It’s perfectly normal, just ride it out, you’re just getting rid of some things. Always better out than in.’ She smiles at me kindly and then her face vanishes out of sight again.

‘It feels like you know what I’m thinking,’ I say. I don’t like how Seal seems to be so in tune with what my body is saying. I feel totally see-through, exposed. It doesn’t matter that I’m wearing clothes, it feels as though there is only a thin, frail piece of clingfilm stretching over me and my insides.

‘You have some knotty energy in your womb chakra. Something isn’t quite aligned,’ Seal says gently. ‘Is there something that is confusing you, or on your mind – to do with fertility?’

‘I don’t know.’ Tears squeeze out of my eyes, dripping onto the pillow.

‘Are you trying?’ Seal asks gently.

‘Huh?’

‘For a baby?’

‘Oh … no. Definitely not! The complete opposite.’

‘Sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to assume. It’s normally a sensitive area when women are having problems conceiving.’

‘I just broke up with someone, the love of my life, actually.’ I sniff. ‘I feel so alone in my thoughts. I feel nothing there. It’s so empty.’

Seal is cupping my forehead with her warm hand now.

‘It is OK to feel sad and go through the motions. You are in an intense reflection mode.’

‘What do I do now?’

‘You must lead with your heart. Make all decisions with it.’ Seal prods me really hard in the chest with her spiky finger. Her hands are so hard and harsh, probably from years of massaging the hardened backs of stressed-out Londoners.

‘Ow,’ I say. Seal smiles at me.

She dims the lights, fills the room with burning sage and lights some more candles, and stands there, stroking my temples until I fall asleep.

When I wake up I have a splitting headache, and immediately feel like a failure. How long have I been asleep at Seal’s house-slash-spa? As I open my eyes, a suitcase full of negative emotion spills its contents everywhere. I need to get home.

‘Have some more water and, please, walk home slowly,’ Seal says. As I sip my water my hand is shaking slightly. I insert my card into her payment machine. On the walk back to my flat I feel really spaced out, and when I get there I face-plant on my bed and fall straight asleep. When I wake up again from my second nap, it takes a while for the haze to clear. There are three empty packets of prawn cocktail crisps next to my bed. I just thought that seeing Seal would be a fun thing to do to pass the time, like a back massage, but it’s brought up so much more than I imagined. There was a haunting urgency to her voice, like she wanted me to pay attention to her – to my body. I visualize a pie chart of all the different aspects of my life. Seal suggested I write down ‘what I know to be true’ and start there to ease the confusion.