Undoing the Flesh Curl

Posted on January 29, 2004 in Anger Hope and Joy Writing Groups

A headache shaped like a donut that puffed up to the inner edges of my skull kept me up until four a.m. last night. I was sick with worry that someone from the Monday group would come and ruin the good rapport that I have with the Cafe Writers. I took acetomenophin before I went to sleep and when I got up again. I set my alarm for late in the afternoon, then remembered that I had to go see Lance in the midafternoon.

“Get the hell away from those people!” cried Lance when I told him about the drama queen and all the people who came up to me with their mind reading routines. He was flabbergasted at the way the group reacted to me. “What Shari did had nothing to do with you,” he said. “Nothing! She was trying to draw you into her own show and you didn’t let her. If they can’t see that, get out of there.” I told him what Alina had said about the difference between respect and value. “If they value you, you deserve to have your feelings respected,” he emphasized.

It felt good to have my real friends feel angry for me.

I’m not taking this personally. I’m not playing the villain in what Lance called “the Algonquin Square Table”. I told Nannette that I would not be back unless there was a significant change in the culture of the group. There are those who fantasize that I will be back when I cool down. How eager they are to use me, to pick my brain and do nothing about the circumstances that frustrated me! I made my decision weeks ago in cold blood: if anyone tried to villify me again, I said to another group member, I would walk.

And this I have done because I am a man of integrity and I keep my word.

The hornets stung me with their selfish coldness. Despite the blank face I affect for the public, it hurts. I know I am not a villain. I am not taking it personally. But it hurts and what was done to me by every member of the group who spoke to me was abuse, pure and simple.

That’s not taking it personally. The headaches, the loss of sleep, the anxiety I felt both before and after the meetings, the feeling that I have due to being estranged from people I liked — these things hurt because I am a human being.

I’m out. There’s pain here, but it’s not a Gordian flesh curl in my stomach: it’s the pain of healing.