Thursday, May 23, 2013

Opening Up

As I sit glancing at the clock, telling myself a story about how our mindfulness group's leader is completely selfish for keeping us until 7:03pm when group is supposed to be finished at 7:00pm, she tells us our homework for the week: notice and pay attention to when we find ourselves being impatient. She knows I have over an hour to drive home. She takes our money and smiles, and I am severely offended that it is now 7:04pm and she's still talking about impatience. Another student asks for a handout that she mentioned earlier in the session, and she asks if we wouldn't mind waiting for her to print a few copies. I stand up in a huff and exclaim, "I have to go! I have a long drive!" and quickly hustle out of the room as the other students quietly say, "Goodbye, Lisa!" I get into my car and the tears start to flow. Impatience. I have to laugh when I realize that I was completely caught up in a fit of impatience while she was asking us to be aware of these precise instances.

I had been keeping a pretty big secret from the group about my reasons for wanting to attend an eight-week group mindfulness course.

This week I returned to group, resolving to share. I've gotten a pretty big head about group. I'm one of the younger members, and have already been studying and practicing mindfulness for about three years. Our leader, Dr. P., occasionally turns to me and asks for my opinion when another group member needs help understanding a concept. It's just like when I was in first grade, and the teacher would ask me to come up and read to the class while she graded papers. I was very prideful. If I shared this piece of myself with my group, I knew that their opinions of me would change. They would see that I have a pretty embarrassing and immature flaw. I hadn't even let myself cry in group. In fact, I spent most of the time in group judging the older members and hoping that I have my shit together by the time I'm their ages.

Hypocrite. Open up to this. If I'm allowed to sit in silent judgment, then they have the right to see my uglies too. And judge however they choose. Their judgment will have absolutely no effect on my ability to overcome my personal obstacles. This awareness gives me a sense of guilt and also freedom.

So, I tell everyone that I am struggling. I tell them that while I appear so functional, put-together, mindful, and aware... I am crippled by fear inside. I am blanketed in attachment to the way things used to be, and feel unable to move forward and let old parts of myself fall away. I begin to cry, a lot, and I don't fight it because I remember when Andrea told me that the only time someone is ugly when they're crying, is when they're trying to stop crying. I look around. Everyone in the group is listening to me with loving, understanding eyes. A few are nodding encouragingly. Dr. P. thanks me for sharing and reveals that she carried the same youthful struggles into her adulthood. I feel warm and connected to each member, and wonder if maybe I'll hang out after session and get to know someone a little more.

But she keeps us until 7:05pm and I have such a long drive haha.

No comments:

Post a Comment