All the information from this past weekend is still rolling around in my head and I have yet to get it all mentally sorted. I will tell you about the crying I promised to tell you about, though. Ha.
We had been in the seminar about 3 hours when our lunch break came and after getting my food, I sat next to a lady who had been sitting near me during the morning session. I was surprised that our presenters sat down, one right next me, and the other just across the table. They had been very gracious during breaks, allowing people to ask questions about their situations and then passing on tidbits of information specific to the person's particular need. I got really nervous, but knew that this was my only chance to ask a few questions regarding my own memories and experiences. (I have to add that this all makes me laugh now, because the night before, after the first day of the seminar, I had seen my neighbor and he had asked me if there were a lot of tears during the session, and I had responded that there weren't. He should have asked me last night! Ok, back to the lunch table...) At a break in the conversation, I looked up at the very distinguished man sitting across the table, opened my mouth, said about three words of a sentence when, suddenly I couldn't control myself. The lump in my throat rose, the corners of my mouth warped, and I cried. Helplessly, horribly, no-holding-back, tears flowing, trying to compose myself to ask the rest of the question. Here I was sitting in front of this brilliant man, who has changed thousands of people's lives, traveled all over the world, authored many books, and here he was sitting in front of me and all I could do was cry like a baby. And do you know what I thought to myself? I thought, Oh no! He must think I'm crazy. What is WRONG with me? Then it hit me. Actually, I bet this is NOT the first time this has happened to him. Besides, what can I do about it now? Then I thought about everyone else sitting calmly, eating their lunches right around me. A little embarrassing. I feel like a child, I thought, and I just showed everyone that I'm weak! But maybe it's the child inside me that needs to be heard and healed. I did feel embarrassed, but after he shared some brief insights with me about my life that were spot-on (that he surmised from only a few basic facts he asked me to tell him) while seeming to be completely unaffected by my crying, the rest of the people at my table, were empathetic, supportive, and shared how they related in their own situations. Within a few minutes, I didn't end up feeling embarrassed at all. I felt supported, heard, loved, and not alone.
It's hard to show weakness in public, especially when you usually try hard to keep yourself pulled together emotionally. Thankfully, I'm still glad I did it, that I wasn't more afraid of making a spectacle of myself, than I was of asking the man for help. What he shared meant a lot to me, and I'm glad that somehow I came up with the courage to ask.
So now I'm here. I mustered up the strength to make the first phone call to sign up for the class. Maybe that's like being at the shoreline, and deciding to get in the water. Then I stuck to my decision, and actually went to both classes, listened intently, and took notes ferociously. Maybe that's like wading into the water, even though it's uncomfortably cold and your feet still touch the bottom. Now, I've got all this information in my head, and I even sort of DO know where I need to start to begin moving forward and healing. Maybe this place is like going out into the middle of the river and treading water, not really going anywhere yet, even if you sort of know how you're supposed to swim, but so far out that you have to keep moving to keep your head above water. Those feet can't feel the riverbed anymore.
Today, I'm treading water.
Tomorrow? We'll see.
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