Letters

Meisner class last night was interesting. Somehow, my experience in this class isn't half as profound a learning experience for me as the other class, but I think that the profoundness came from learning how to repeat (how to see others, how others see me, how to see myself) which I already knew how to do going in to this class.

So, I'd been struggling since the last class to come up with an empowering activity. I asked my instructor for suggestions, and he said to consider what I'm passionate about in love and in my career. Not really helpful, unfortunately.

I decided I would write a letter, everyone else in class had written one, so I figured it was my turn. But what to write about? I had a few vauge ideas, but nothing that seemed empowering enough or urgent enough, or something that I could "safely" create imaginary circumstances around.

My friend who is also taking the class suggested that I write a letter to a specific family member. So as class started I was rolling that around in my brain. I came up with the reason for writing, and just before it was my turn to do the activity, I created the urgency for it. But I hadn't completely settled on the idea, and had a back up idea to present to John (our instructor) to see which he felt would be better to work on. He usually dialogues with us about our activities and offers adjustments to strengthen them before we start.

When it was my turn for the activity, however, our instructor surprised me by saying, "I'm not even going to ask you about your activity. Just go focus in the corner on whatever you've picked and go for it when you feel connected."

I hesitated because I really wasn't sure my activity was good enough, if it was empowering, but I realized that I was already feeling my activity on a low-key level, so I just went to the corner, and then started my activity.

I was writing a goodbye letter to my family member. I'd been unintentionally verbally / emotionally abused by this person growing up, and the imaginary circumstances were that the person hadn't changed, and I was now choosing to walk away from the relationship. I'd packed up all my stuff, and this letter was the last thing I needed to do before I left, and I had to leave in 10 minutes so I would be gone when this person got home.

I was really surprised by all the emotions that came up while I was writing. Hurt, anger, deep love for the person, wishing I had another choice, wishing the other person would change, or at least acknowledge how they'd hurt me. I was very close to tears at one point, and as I wrote about leaving I became so scared I could barely repeat with my partner, my words came out barely a whisper. My partner was so gentle and supportive in the repetition, and I was grateful to her for staying with me rather than leaving because it seemed too private.

After I finished my activity, John only said it was good for a beginning activity, without ever asking what I'd been writing about. I guess that falls under the "No Feedback Means You Did A Good Job" category. I believe that John's intention in this, his not asking about my activity and giving minimal feedback, is for me to learn to trust myself and my choices, trust my instincts, instead of relying on others for permission and approval. It feels uncomfortable.

So for Friday's class, we need to bring a more active activity--instead of writing a letter of goodbye, we're packing up our stuff to leave. Once again, I feel clueless. *sigh*

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Just on a side note for those of you who may and will worry about what I wrote about being emotionally abused: In reality that family member has changed for the better, and I have long since forgiven that person because it was unintentional, that was just how that person was brought up and so didn't know anything else, didn't know any better.