Doing the Work

There comes a time in the affairs of man when he must take the bull by the tail and face the situation. W.C. Fields

Day 26
When Linda calls, I can’t believe she's the same person who left a few days ago. There’s a new aliveness and strength coming through her voice, like someone who has woken up from a long nightmare to finds themselves fully and joyfully alive. What a courageous journey she's been on. She'll be home in less than twenty-four hours.

Without my usual social interactions during the retreat, I’m noticing that when I talk to people, that I smile a lot. Nothing wrong with that, but at some point the smile becomes forced. I can even feel the muscles of my face tighten when it happens. I remember David Deida, an old friend, saying, “Peter, I often see you smile when you’re not feeling like smiling. It’s not authentic. What is it that you’re hiding?”

I have a session with David and Tom, my two therapists, and tell them about my compulsive need to smile. “It’s your way of coping.” Tom says. “You try and please everyone by being nice.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Smiling is my way of keeping everything on the surface, so I don’t have to show any emotions. I can keep everyone at a distance. It’s like skippping a stone across the surface of a pond."

David says, “So, this is a chance for you to be more serious than you take yourself to be.”

“That’s so true. If I was serious, friends would see who I really am - a frightened little child that feels completely worthless, I'm terrified that they'd abandon me.”

Tom hands out one of his helpful little lifelines: “Be gentle with yourself. Your friends clearly see who you are—a kind, loving person."

I love these guys.

A thought pops to mind. “I also smile so that I can avoid confrontation of any kind. I’m terrified of strong, aggressive men. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with someone like Donald Trump or Vince Vaughan.” Heat courses through my belly. “Wow, there’s so much rage in there!”

“What would it be like to let that masculine side out more?” David asks. “What if you could let more feelings come through—anger when you’re angry, sadness when you’re sad, without being afraid it will overwhelm you?”

“That would feel so good.”

“And you can be the curious observer, watching it all,” Tom adds.

It’s hard to believe that I’m still dealing with the “wounded child” at my age. But if it helps me open my heart and be authentic, I don’t care if I’m a hundred years old and still doing this stuff. It’s not done until it’s done. Ya gotta do the work, baby.