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.

Others respond.

I feel judged and fearful of their sharing.

A silent rupture in relationship occurs. I feel lost and isolated in my experience.

Anxiety reigns.

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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