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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