Powerful Groups

There is at least one in every crew, I’m told. The choice is whether to pay attention to or ignore the person(s) who rub me the wrong way. Lately, I’ve been able to curtail the voice of someone who vents, in my mind, although it comes with a degree of venting on my own.

So-and-so drove me nuts last evening. He’s a younger man, I remind myself, and try to give him space in which to grow. Next time or any time a guy/gal gets under my skin, I’ll echo the 12-step slogan I know from my past: “Don’t let them run around in your head, rent free.”

Beyond the craziness of taking the wrong escalator, thus screwing with my sense of direction, the ride to C.C. seems doable. I’d hoped to trace my steps so I’d familiarize myself and learn a route. I didn’t but there’s time. Soon the ride to and from C.C. will be down pat and all I’ll have to do is arrive at the group meeting. The important thing is I show up.

J. showed a video at last night’s group. It was profound. Basic premise: Closets are hard to come out of and everybody has one. The operative word you might think is everybody but the idea is we all have hard stories to tell and hard means hard. There is no variance of hard. It Just is.

I borrow from the video, not necessarily quoting from it. My closet is coming out as trans. No harder than telling your six year old you and your spouse are getting divorced. Not harder than telling someone you love you were diagnosed with Leukemia. No matter who you are, there is a closet you must come out of and it isn’t easy, by a long shot.

Two bullets I remember from the video are: (1) Be authentic in your telling. (2) Don’t be apologetic. Then lots of talk about each that I don’t remember. The end of the second bullet showed a pic of the beloved Mr. Rogers giving the finger. Classic!

This morning, during J. W., my writing/reading group, I once again connected to the power within. I simply let the ink flow. Out of three prompts my fave was: “Something I Don’t Remember.” I wrote about feeling alive for the first time ever, in a psychiatric facility, at the age of seventeen.  I vaguely recall feeling free to let myself slide into someone’s open arms. Physically. I don’t remember the event itself. Or what led up to it.

Groups, meetings, friendships of all sorts open me up. I am not afraid to write anything now. Not afraid to extend a hand or hug. If I keep my distance it is usually because I’m getting to know you better. Posting to this blog, I want people to know me and somehow find themselves in the process. I’m no longer afraid to share and to hear your coming out story.


About sam davies

I write under the pseudonym, Sam Davies.
This entry was posted in Connection, Friendship, FTM, Hope, Mental health, Trans Identity, Writing/Groups and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Powerful Groups

  1. I know the video that you are referring to. Powerful stuff. And you are right. Showing up is the only thing you need to do right now. Good for you for being willing to do that.
    I remember being in a single mother’s group 10+ years ago or so. Everyone was telling their story, some more horrific than others. At one point, the instructor said not to think that any one situation is harder than your situation. Divorce. Cancer. Transgender. Poverty. Mental illness. What’s to say any one of these struggles is harder than the rest. We should all be kinder to each other because we are all working and struggling and trying to survive.


    • sam davies says:

      Yes, the stories may have a grain of similarity to them, although it’s not necessary to connect.Trying to survive is a human condition. It’s so true we have no idea what each person is carrying in their heart. I’d hope folks would give me the benefit of the doubt if I was in a mood which couldn’t be explained away. We all deserve consideration and kindness. Thank you for your post, Friend.


  2. Diane Yannick says:

    You are brave. You are opening yourself up to a new life chapter. Your post brought back this memory—-Recently divorced in 1974, I went to a PWP –parents without partners– meeting. I was freaked out and tried to leave early. My car wouldn’t start and I ended up having to call my not yet ex- husband to pick me up.


    • sam davies says:

      Thanks, Di, for sharing your experience. Isn’t it odd how life plays itself out sometimes? No matter the situation, we grow. Even when we’d rather not. Sorry about you having to call the not yet ex for a ride. That sucks!


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