What I Wanted to Do...

When I got up there, I was going to be in the space and adjust the chair, and maybe notice the flower. And I was going to be open and receptive and let them see me just being and I wasn't going to force anything and I was going to follow my impulses and I was going to be nervous and giggly and brilliant and sad and I was maybe even going to cry.

When I got up there, I fixated on the bear. Almost instantly. I tried to connect with the bear. I felt sad for the bear. I tried to reattach his leg. I got tired of him and felt half an impulse to do something else, but the impulse left so quickly that I missed it completely so I did nothing but return my focus to the bear. Exactly what I didn't want to do. Exactly what I shouldn't have done.

I feel like I did not do well in class tonight. I didn't jump up instantly, like my first impulse told me to -- I waited until a bunch of other people took their turns. And I fell into a comfort zone when I got up there instead of being open and vulnerable and living truthfully. And I know exactly where that came from. Right now, in my everyday life, I have to fight every impulse I have with everything I have in me just so that I can get by. So I don't say things I'll regret later. So I can keep a job. So they don't throw me in the loony bin. Right before I left work, I had to leave my boss' office very quickly (after fighting the urge to tell him he was full of crap) so that I wouldn't either cry or start throwing things. And I have to do this every day. Every. Day. And within an hour of class starting, I'm supposed to turn all of that off, take down every defense mechanism, and live truthfully, following every impulse. There was part of me that just wanted to go up there and cry about the day I had. There was part of me that wanted to just go lie down and suck my tongue and twirl my hair. But I fixated on the bear because he was there and he was safe and I didn't have to look at the rest of my class and I didn't have to let them see that I'm a wreck at the moment.

I came home thinking maybe I'm not cut out for this. Maybe I'm too afraid to actually be any good at this. Knowing that this is what I really want to be doing, but afraid that I just plain suck at it and always will. Like that feeling that maybe you never will meet your Prince Charming. You know he's out there, but he's already married or lives somewhere you've never been and never plan on going. I want to be in this class and I want to be good at this. I want to be great at this. And the only way I'm going to do that is to learn to live truthfully.

If I just randomly start yelling one day, I'm just practicing. Just so you know.