This might hurt a little....

Another week down.

By all accounts, the weeks ahead (five through six) are memorable, primarily, for the tsunami of meltdowns the student body starts experiencing. Even taking the natural human propensity for exaggeration into account, it sounds like total anarchy and chaos. For me, the mere notion of such a thing is my worst nightmare come true. What? Violently sobbing in front of a room full of people I've only recently met? I'd rather hang myself. I don't even do stuff like that in front of people I know and like. When I die, my tombstone will read, "she kept it together pretty well." Which I equally appreciate and mourn. On the one hand, I can source out some strain of dignity in such a statement...on the other hand, its maybe not an especially passionate way to live one's life. Its definitely a guarded stance. But, by and large, for better for worse, I am not someone who enjoys such exposure.
As people are wont to do, I tend to assume everyone is exactly like me. That assumption is repeatedly disproved in this experiment I call life.

Last week, during a Q&A, a girl actually raised her hand, excitedly stood up, and asked if she'd be having a "break down next week??!!!" with the sort of glee a child expresses when asking if Santa is coming soon. I almost fell over, but that I was already half-way lying down, mid cat nap. Her arms stretched out stiffly by her hips, all five fingers opened, extended, and tense. I leaned over to my friend, Leslie, to make sure I'd heard right. The emcee of the evening, a studio owner from the Northwest, paused and said, "um. I'm not sure. A lot of stuff starts coming up in the following two weeks. It might, um, happen." He said this with hesitation...neither wanting to encourage nor discourage her experience here. I'm probably making this up, but I'd swear she followed his statement by pressing on with her inquiry, cornering the guy into being more specific, and said, "Maybe Wednesday? Do you think it will happen Wednesday? I have A LOT of issues with my family!!!!" And I swear to you, she was smiling ear to ear when she said it. It was as if she were looking at her datebook, really wanting to nail this exciting event down, and offering up times that would be good for her. I don't think I blinked once during this entire exchange. My blood began to run cold......

I have prepared myself for a certain quotient of organic emotional outpourings. The kind a person can't control. The kind that just happen sometimes, whether you want them to or not, when the exhaustion overtakes the mind. I can roll with that. I can sympathize. I'm not totally dead inside. It had not occured to me, however, that there might be an entire contingent of people waiting, with bated breath, for their moment of utter dissolve...their emotional apex...their swan song. I've thought of it as something one couldn't hold down...not something one tries to conjure up. Oh no.

I continued to sit on that floor, long after everyone else had packed up and left the room, staring off into space and scared for my life.

I have a good friend from college named Cary. I adore Cary--she's a wonderful, kind person--very sensitive, very emotive.
She's an angel...an absolute angel.
And she's a break down afficianado...doesn't even matter if its her own breakdown...she's game for her breakdown, your breakdown, a complete stranger's breakdown....all breakdowns are good breakdowns. I intentionally would not go near Cary if I was having any kind of problem/bad day because I'd get four sentences into my issue and her eyes would get huge and teary...and the next thing I knew she'd be bawling, clenching my hand, and encouraging me to let it out. No matter what I was telling her....


19 year old Cary: "hey, what's going on? You look sad. What happened? Talk to me."

19 year old me: "I'm really upset, some jerk took my laundry out of the dormitory dryer before the cycle finished."

Cary:" Let it out, Christy. I KNOW IT HURTS. Do you think its really about something that happened to you in high school, this reaction? Let's go back..Who hurt you? Don't be afraid, I'm here for you, tell me everything, I've got all night, I'll cancel my dinner plans...."

And, ultimately, even if my problem was legitamately sad or if I was sincerely broken up, by the end it would be me talking Cary down off the ledge. Her freakish capacity for empathy is both her greatest attribute and her achilles heel.
A number of years ago, her mother died after a tragic and painful battle with ovarian cancer. Cary, both beautifully and unsurprisingly, singlehandedly nursed her mother daily through the final months of her life. She didn't duck out once, no discomfort too heavy to outweigh her compassion. That's all you have to know about Cary to love her, sight unseen.

That said, approximately one year after her mother's death, Cary was asked to leave her grief group. She was getting addicted to the edgey high of having weekly forums wherein she, and others, were not only allowed--but encouraged--to decsend into emotional oblivion.

Cary visited me in New York shortly after I started my yoga practice. So, I took her to class. Thought nothing of it until...

Nearing the end of the series, the instructor began to lead us into camel pose. For anyone who does Bikram, its often said and understood that the act of bending one's spine backwards might be somewhat emotional. Its a position we don't often find ourselves in, its a massive opening of a very protected cavity (the chest), and it can stir stuff up. Some teachers will guide you into this posture by verbally preparing you for what you may, or may not, feel during the pose....
That day, ours did. And as soon as I heard the words come out of his mouth...as soon as I heard him say, "you might experience some profound emotional release..." I knew exactly where this was headed. I looked over at Cary, saw her eye's widen with delight, and thought to myself, "here we go."

The sobs could be heard round the city. Our post-camel sivasana lasted almost ten minutes that day while the teacher sat at the edge of Cary's mat and tried to soothe the avalanche of tears streaming down her cheeks, her thighs, her feet. I rested there on my back, staring at the ceiling, blaming only myself for this disaster.

Cary and I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out "where this was all coming from." She cried at the Gap, she cried in the subway, she cried at the resturant, she cried in the cab. She cried when someone said "heillo", she cried again when they said "goodbye".
Because I happen to really love this girl, I somehow managed. But she was one person, one day. There are over three hundred people at this training...and we are here, no exit in sight, for five more weeks.
I am afraid. I am very very afraid.

Pray for me. Or rather, pray for them. I'm not sure I'm the maternal, kleenex dispensing presence you want to have around when the water works start....but I'll try my best. Much like with everything else here...all i can do is try.