It is Wednesday. Again it is Group.
There has been a fortnight break since the last.
I notice the dread arising in me as I drive towards the city.
I would happily not attend.
In the dark of the winter’s night, I am propelled forward.
I step inside the room, I notice my heart racing.
Small talk and niceties past, group begins.
As others speak, the limelight is not on me, yet my heart continues to pound.
Someone notices my discomfort. I am asked if I would like to contribute.
Wondering inside if I sound like an idiot, I share a little piece of my life.
I feel judged and fearful of their sharing.
A silent rupture in relationship occurs. I feel lost and isolated in my experience.
Others re-clarify their response and I realize that my own anxiety, defined what I had heard.
Their anger was not my father’s, projected at a small child.
It was their own experience.
That is theirs, and this is mine.
That was then, this is now.
I am safe.
The anxiety lessens.
My body softens.
The Group ends.
Once more, I am meeting my anxiety.
Reflection: “How does your anxiety define what you experience?” “How do you understand that pattern has come to be in your life?”
(Sarah Sacks is a trained group psychotherapist and avid believer in the potency of Group Therapy)
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