Stress Reduction

So, I’m thinking as I take the only empty chair in the circle, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Audrey just insisting.  She gets on my case and she won’t quit.

“Just try it,” she said.  “You might like it, and even better, it might make you feel good.  Not so bitter, and, I don’t know, so twisted somehow.” 

She’d be twisted, too, if her wussy husband had gambled away all her savings.  Not that Dennis is wussy.  No way.  He’s the alpha male.  “I can handle it.  It’s not a Problem for me.  I can walk away anytime.”  Big talker.  He only walked away when they threatened his kneecaps.

Anyhow, here I am at this damn stress reduction class with all the other losers who can’t handle a little stress.  That must be the teacher—figures—turtleneck long-sleeved shirt and sandals.  (Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?)

“Good afternoon, group” he goes in that soft smooth voice they affect.  Let’s do a little exercise together before we go around and get to know each other, OK?  (He’s not really asking if it’s OK, he’s just pretending to include us.  OK, what the hell.  I’m listening.)

"Let’s do a little visualization exercise.  We’ll start by closing our eyes (Jiminy Christ) and taking a deep cleansing breath.  Breathe into your belly.  Hold for a second and slowly breathe out.  (OK, I’m breathing).  Once more, in, hold, out.  And one last cleansing breath." (OK, now’s when the preaching’s gonna start.)

"Now, in your mind’s eye, let’s take a walk.  Let’s start at the edge of a nice cool pine woods, with pine needles covering the ground. (Right. Like they don’t have to get raked up).  You’ll see a path leading into the trees.  Follow the path, walking slowly, noticing the bird calls, the sound of the wind in the trees…. And then you’ll come to the edge of the woods and there’s a meadow.  A lovely meadow with flowers and butterflies  and bumblebees (Jeeesus, he sure loves the outdoors) and you make a path through the grass and flowers toward an arch you can see in the middle of the meadow.  Head for the arch. Keep breathing.  Walk slowly and softly.  As you get closer to the arch, you see that it’s really a gated doorway. Now on the other side of that door is going to be your own personal sacred space (oh, my God), a safe, secure, stress-free place.  Just for you, no one else can go there.  It’s your private retreat.  And once you find it, you can go to it anytime you want to, over and over.  It will always be there for you. So are you still walking toward the arch? The doorway? Now you get close to the door.  You walk up to it and put your hand on the doorknob.  When I say “go inside”, turn the handle and step inside your personal space.  We’ll be silent for several minutes so that you can explore your space, begin to feel comfortable there, find the best spots to stop and rest, maybe even, in the future, take a nap. So……open your door."

I’m turning the damn knob with all my might.  Left, and then right.  Nothing.  The damn door is LOCKED.  I can’t get in the damn special sacred space.  So what does that mean?  It means this is the last of these classes I’m going to.

"All right, now, group, go back through your door into the meadow and through the meadow to the woods.  And through the woods to where we started on the path.  And when it feels right, slowly open your eyes and come back to this space."

Big breath.

"So, what did you find in your sacred space?  Anyone want to share?"  Oh great. So now I have to listen to these jerks mouth off about how wonderful and special their sacred space is.  Okay, give us your made-up versions of paradise, your stereotypical horse-hockey about streams, or stars, or rocks, or tiny little mushrooms.  Go on, I’m listening.  Oh, shit, he’s looking at me.  He expects me to say something.  Well, OK, here goes.

"What was it like for me?  I’ll tell you what it was like for me.  THE FUCKING DOOR WAS LOCKED!"

Well, I won’t have to do this again, thank God.  He said he’d just refund my money and we’d call it even.  Geez.