A Mindful Belly

Tonight I went to my first "stress reduction and mindfulness" class. There are about 20 - 22 people in the class. This was the first week (one class a week). The class will include meditations, yoga, walking meditation, and some other stuff. I've always wanted to learn how to meditate and do it effectively. I've tried at home on my own and with guided meditations on CD, but it didn't feel authentic. I wasn't patient. I didn't stay with it and I wasn't sure I was doing it right. Given my recent bout with stress, anxiety, and depression, this class was suggested and it took every ounce of courage to commit myself (no pun intended) to going. Its once a week all summer.


GETTING TO KNOW YOU

We started with introductions – our name, what we did (job), why we’re there, what we like about ourselves. I kept rehearsing and rehearsing what I would say. Over and over and over again. How I’d say it. How I wanted to appear to the class. Guarding myself carefully, not sure what I wanted to reveal or how much. I was anxious about public speaking, as usual. The instructor said he wanted us to share a little more than typical intros – not too much, but do not gloss over them.


I was shocked at how people introduced themselves, from the very start. Almost everyone mentioned depression as a reason they were there. Some shared the details of their depression. People also mentioned some physical ailments, recent deaths in the family, marriage, stress, jobs, wanting connections. Their introductions totally disarmed me. What I wanted to say for my own intro changed after each person introduced themselves. I could identify with so many of these people, their story and struggles, that I almost lost it several times. I was taken aback and yet grateful they were sharing their intimate stories - and they just jumped in and trusted the audience. There seemed to be little apprehension. Because this was so intense, intimate, and personal (it took guts to share), I looked directly at each person, making eye contact, showing respect, nodding, supporting them, not judging, conveying a hug and acceptance from across the room, appreciating their honesty and forthrightness, admiring them for being vulnerable with us. And yet I was freaking out about what I was going to say. Ironic that the thought of speaking in my stress reduction class stressed me out. I didn't want to appear vulnerable. It was okay for them, not for me. I wanted to be controlled, to keep it together. I kept repeating what I wanted to share, to say, but it was a moving target. What would sound good? Rehearsing. Why can't I do this simple thing without making it a performance? This is supposed to be a "performance free zone". I wanted to cry hearing their experiences, identifying with them, appreciating their vulnerability. And yet, I didn’t want to cry for myself (I wouldn't let myself). Why do I care if they see me cry? During their introductions, most people appeared calm, spoke clearly, audibly. It seemed easy. They took time. They were articulate. Not me.

I rushed it. Or, at least I felt I did. Rehashing. I stammered over my words feeling stupid, fearing I looked scared and nervous. I was. My voice quivered. I said that, like others in the room, I’m here because of depression, that I had no idea what I did for a living – it’s a new job, 6 months into it, it makes little sense to me, and I’m doing something that’s really stressful for me because of my own pressure to perform. Of course, I didn’t say it that eloquently. Rehashing. I also mentioned that I was looking forward to learning how to be with my body, quirks and all, curves and all. That I wanted to learn how to acknowledge it and not judge. To watch the thoughts go by. To be mindful but not judgemental. I'm so self-critical. Its like I have my own dream catcher except it catches self criticism instead. I shared that I have poor body image. There was so much more that had gone through my head when I was rehearsing that I wanted to say, but didn't. Rehashing. Feeling I need to interrupt others to make sure I got it all in - I didn't. I wanted to share how I need to learn how to cope better – to stop compartmentalizing and distracting myself. The one thing I said that I liked about myself was that I was a good dancer (I think people laughed at this because everyone else mentioned a part of their character), and added that I thought I was compassionate. What I didn’t explain was that I was compassionate with others, but not myself – which is so true (ironic). Really wish I had stated this irony (sounded so contradictory).

The lady next to me, I had not met her or seen her before, started to introduce herself and started to cry. I was glad she cried. She did what I wanted to. Does that make me a bad person? That I was relieved? Here I was just telling the group that I was compassionate and I’m watching her cry and struggle. So I did a quick rub of her back (it came from me, though, not because of what I had just said or how I appeared - although I was glad that others saw me reach out). She is also in a new job 6 months and feels all alone - because of the culture of her job.

FIRE IN THE BELLY

After intros – which took almost 90 minutes, we did a body scan meditation. It seemed to take 20 minutes – maybe more. This was my first. The idea is to be mindful of your body and not to judge it, but simply acknowledge it, the feelings, the emotions, etc. You basically focus on your body, various parts and work your way around. I’ve heard of this type of meditation, I know people go in and out of watching their breath, being distracted, that people find meditation powerful – but I didn’t really understand. In fact, I was frustrated with my own previous efforts. This one was hard. I was fine until the meditation got to my belly. I could barely keep from whaling aloud. Tears streamed down my face, I bit my lip, and tried to return to my breath, but it was difficult. The instructor was guiding us and talked about how some people said they had issues with body image – that the source for some of that might be in the belly. As we feel our bellies, be compassionate with our bodies/bellies, do not judge it, just be aware – acknowledge the feeling. That’s all that was being asked. So simple. I couldn’t do it. I was angry. I was frustrated. I was shaking. My stomach instantly contracted and quivered as I tried to keep from crying aloud. I found it hard to breathe, to catch my breath. I heard my inner voice screaming. I don't accept this! I refuse to acknowledge my body!! My fat. My shape. My belly. I reject you! I cannot offer the same compassion I can give to others. Tears streaked down my face. I didn’t wipe them away – I wasn’t sure if was supposed to or if I was supposed to feel them, letting them role down my chin and neck.

After the meditation, I was sad, worn out, and muscles sore. This was surprising to me, yet not. The meditation was like a workout. It WAS powerful. Who knew? Maybe I did it right. Maybe not. Rehashing. But I do know that I left feeling wiped out and sad. I’m supposed to do one of these scans every night. God help me.