Confession of a Participant of the Authentic Dialogues Training

Ballad of a Red Nose and Sad Chair by Ivana Svobodová Vychodilová (www.ivanasvobodova.com)

The clink of a Tibetan bowl and my heart starting to beat faster.

Hard to admit, but I am afraid. I don’t feel like it, but I can’t stand here for ever. I’m not a coward, am I?! I must prove it to myself and the others. I pluck up my courage and I step out from the darkness of the backstage into the light. Under my feet I feel the wood creaking slightly.

Admittedly, it’s only a few steps, but it takes me great pains to do them. I fix my sight on the only solid anchor I can rely on – a chair standing in the middle of the room. For a moment I get overwhelmed by a feeling, that it is an electric chair for a convict, but then I know that at this point it is my only ally.

Finally. I can sit down.

I am gazing around me, everything is out of focus, my eyes are getting used to the bright light. In the row in front of me sit about 10 people. I’ve known all of them quite well for a while, but at this moment, god only knows why, the distance between us makes them my rivals, opponents, judges.

Well, I’ll cope with it somehow. I’m smiling, despite the tension in my shoulders. My hands resting on my thighs are trembling. The wooden backrest unpleasantly digs into me. I fidget restlessly in a vain attempt to find a more comfortable position.

I feel like a butterfly pinned under glass gazed at by curious visitors. But you can be sure, I’ll fight and scream – this thought came to my head defiantly.

I am OK.

Despite the pressure in my chest, which is stopping me taking a proper deep breath, I slouch in the chair and straighten my legs. The creaking of the chair mercifully breaks the almost frightening silence. I glance from one face to another.

Gee, Adam’s face looks really weird. For a moment it amuses me … until I realise in that case I must resemble a real loser.

Boo!

I try to look next door – hey there’s Martina. The smile, which so far I’ve managed to maintain by will-power, is getting a bit shaky. She looks as if she wants to cuddle me or something.

I quickly turn my eyes to the left, but ouch, I haven’t helped myself much at all. It is where Magdalena is sitting.
Her body in a concentrated fashion is bent forwards, she’s gazing at me with eyes wide open, the mouth slightly ajar … What’s that supposed to be???? I get even more nervous and my shaking increases. Keeping a smile on my face is harder and harder. No, don’t give up, I’ll manage it, I am AT EASE!
The silence is almost unbearable. I feel like scratching myself, everything is somewhat itchy. Uneasiness starts suffocating me. I feel tension in the air, the expectation is intensifying.

All right then, what could I try? How to break free of these chains? What was it that Sylvie said? Counting stains on the wall? That’s a good idea, here I go!

Oh, that wall is really interesting! This will work. For a while I feel like I’ve won …

On their journey along the wall my eyes discover a space between Adam and Martina’s heads – what the hell is that gap??

Shit! Not that!

NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!

I realise I am totally fucked up when my eyes touch the empty chair.

AN EMPTY CHAIR!!!

This sight shocks me so much that at this point I can’t hold back my tears which even with me shutting my eyes and biting my lips start rolling down my cheeks straight away.
I DON’T WANT you to see me cry!!!! Jesus, it’s SO EMBARRASSING!!!!!!

I am shaking and even though I am mobilising my strengths and powers to get a grip, it’s hopeless. Tears are pouring out from my shut eyelids, making their way down my cheeks and negotiating the elastic band, which holds the red clown’s nose on my face. I feel immense and desperate emptiness – as if I was moving in a huge black whole, which has no bottom let alone an “emergency exit” sign…. I almost expect that somebody will start laughing, but I can hear nothing but dead silence.

I try to draw a deep breath. Surprisingly, my chest loosens up a bit. I swallow. I wink with my head turned up. I slowly open my eyes, gazing somewhere on a wooden beam with colourful bulbs. A thought crosses my mind – what do these bulbs think about me? And unexpectedly it really amuses me. The mood in the black whole is turning into lighter shades of grey ….

I’m not crying any longer.

Slowly and carefully I dare to look into the faces of the others.
I move my eyes from left to right at a snail’s pace.

Jirka, Magdalena, Jana, Michal, Claudie, Pavla, Maruška, Adam… my eyes avoiding the empty chair … Martina, Sylvia, Hanka…

At the moment when I can read their messages to me on their faces, it is as if I’ve just woken up. Guys, have you never seen anybody crying? Get a grip!! So much sympathy could kill me!! You can keep it for yourselves! Why are you so depressed? Keep your hair on, I’ll be alright.

At this point I even feel stupidly responsible for putting them into this miserable condition, which they all forcedly had to undergo with me. Paradoxically, it is this thought which calms me down the most and helps me to find solid ground.

I’m looking slightly ahead, at them, also with something of a plea in my eyes towards Claudia, who measures my time, to end it. She takes a long hard look at me, but in the end she relents and I more feel than hear the desired clink of a stick on the bowl.

With the smile back on my face I stand up with poise, departing for the backstage, where I take off the clown’ nose, wipe off the dried up salt from my face, run my fingers through my hair, while from the next room I hear applause. I’ve done it.

I take a deep breath again and now without much stage fright, I come back, sit down on the chair and express thanks to all with my eyes and gestures.
The atmosphere in the room has changed.

The tension has gone.
It has got warmer…
and we all can breath again.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
I am talking about my experience and receiving feedback from the group. Adam points out that the chair which caused the collapse of my self-control is the one I was sitting on before. As he says it, to my surprise I’ve realised I might have known it all the time. But during my “seclusion” I saw it more like a symbol of something, which I had experienced and which I hadn’t come to terms with. It lay sleeping somewhere relatively close to the surface. Whether it was my dad’s death, an unpleasant break up, a memory of bullying at nursery school, or a different forgotten and non-processed negative experience or the feeling of loneliness, being singled out….. Magdalena is telling me she found the story exciting and pinpoints where she saw the beginning, progress and the end. Something like a journey and an internal process of transformation. I’m glad she’s saying that. Now, I feel even more like a hero ,-))
Thanks to the possibility of trying what it means to have the company of myself with myself, I’ve realised that tears and emotions are my biggest weakness and at the same time strength. I allow both to come to me relatively easily, but when I don’t hold them back and let them freely flow, I quickly balance the internal overpressure, alleviate the tension and then I am able to breath freely once again… and immediately afterwards this is followed by relief, understanding, reconciliation and peace.
I thank the whole group once again for being in this with me and supporting me.
I return to my place and Martina gives me a firm hug. She’s a bit like my mum. I hug her back in relief. I feel fine now.
Finally, it’s lunch break. Suddenly, don’t know why, I’m very hungry ,-))