Mirror mirror

Come on, I'm ready, December 2011

"Most people just skirt the edges of their dysfunction. I say get dirty with it. Embrace it. Then, when you're ready, let it go." - Tinsenpup

Mirrors. Amazing tools. I have a client who has an involuntary spasm around the right side of her mouth whenever she speaks. It curls into a not-quite sneer with lots of invisible fish hooks pulling and tugging her face in all sorts of directions. We've come to the point in therapy where she can, if she wants and is very careful, speak without the spasms, but it's effortful and not really functional for spontaneous conversation. The most difficult task I had her do was speak to me while looking at herself in the mirror. I hate it when I make my clients cry. It was brutal. And cathartic. And she survived.

I did this exercise in another way when I set myself the task of voluntary stuttering after I had well learned not to stutter. I walked up to the receptionist, someone who had only known me as a non-stutterer, and I asked her a simple question while stuttering my damn head off. Just like I used to when it was out of my control. It was earth-shattering. My ears ignited into blue flame, my eyes dimmed to blindness, my tongue turned to sand. And I survived. I came face to face with myself just like my client did literally with her mirror work. I discovered how ashamed I was of my stuttering which really means I was ashamed of myself because I was (I am) a stutterer. To despise my stutter is to despise myself.

I let go a little that day and now I am comfortable whether I stutter on purpose or not. I can honestly say that I am at peace with my stuttering.

Wouldn't it be nice to just look in the metaphorical mirror, face all the demons, and get it ALL over with like that? Forever. Just do it once and be done? Yes, it sure would. But that's not what it's like is it? We have to keep looking in the mirror. Sometimes it's literally a mirror (or a photo or a video). Sometimes it's something much more frightening.

My mirror these days is my meditation cushion. I sit on it every night for 15 minutes and notice what's going on inside my mind. I don't try to do anything, no mantras or chants, I just observe. And I squirm. Some nights it's like that terrific horror film, Paranormal Activity. I feel like I'm calling to the demons and then, of course they answer, the bastards are pissed off and ready to beat the shit out of me. If I only kept quiet, distracted myself with whiskey and TV and reading and motorcycles and sleeping and family and and and ... then they wouldn't bother me so much. Right? We all do this and sometimes we make it to the finish line without ever stopping to ask "is this really the best way to live this short life?" Maybe. I'm thinking maybe not. Once you know the demons are there, there's nothing for it--some scabs need to be scratched if they are going to heal. So each night I sit and sometimes I do battle. Fiercely! Most nights not. Most nights I sit there and trip to the past or create stories for tomorrow. I let myself escape, but I call it what it is and remind myself that I am here. Now. I am breathing and I am alive. This time I will not turn away. I will continue to sit and stand up to my bullies. I will take whatever they can dish out and I will offer love in return.

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The mirror-work is easy for my client now and even though her mouth still spasms a little, she is more accepting of it. She has given me plenty of signals that she is ready to stop therapy. That's fine. My goals for her have been exceeded. Once you stop trying to stop something it doesn't need to be stopped. It's no fun teasing someone who only reacts with compassion.

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