What I Got from that Mindfulness Course

So we’re in the small groups part, and this guy is saying how in the meditation he just kept ruminating on one of his clients, how she always wanted more than he was able to give, more time, more emotion, more answers. ‘It’s making me feel de-skilled,’ he says. And I’m like smiling and nodding, because I can feel just what he’s feeling, how you try your damnedest and things still don’t go right. Like me and Danny, except we don’t use words like ‘de-skilled’.

  Next week, next talking group, and this big depressed girl says, ‘Last week there was a therapist saying how much he didn’t like one of his clients. Thing is, I go to therapy every week and it made me wonder if maybe my therapist doesn’t like me.’  She picks away at one of her fingers.

 I look to Miss Depress, and here’s the weirdest thing: she is clearly believing the story she tells. I wait for someone to say something, something about how it really was. Am I the only one who heard that word de-skilled?  De-skilled is not dis-like, I want to say. Instead I study the scuffs marks on the floor.

   Next morning, I have this revelation. I am saying to Danny, ‘Remember your lunch, make sure you get yourself to school on time.’ 

  ‘Don’t nag,’ he scowls back, ‘I can sort my own self out.’ 

         Thing is, I see what is happening. I am saying, I love you, but he is hearing, I got no confidence in you. The message flips over mid-air and lands with broken bones.

         So I touch his shoulder and I say, ‘I love you, Dan.’

         He stops and looks straight at me. ‘What’s up?’ he says, ‘you about to slam me with some real bad news?’