First Day of Support Group
Artwork by @justjessdoing_jessthings
“What should I wear?” I thought. “Is there a dress code? Damn, I should’ve paid more attention to the description online.” I was standing in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear to my first grief support group meeting.
My mom had died from lung cancer last Christmas and I’d been wanting to attend a support group ever since, but I had yet to feel comfortable confronting my emotions on my own and was less ready to do so in front of complete strangers. So, I had put the idea on the backburner, resolving that I’d go when I was ready.
“I’m not sure if I’m ready now,” I thought, as I grabbed a plaid shirt and a pair of pants, “but I’m going.” On the way to my car, I waved at a neighbor putting up Halloween decorations.
As I drove to where the meeting was held, I felt my shirt stick to my chest as it burned and I could imagine the red splotches that were appearing underneath my shirt. When I arrived at the address on my phone’s GPS, I wasn’t sure which building to enter. I looked at my phone and saw that I had fifteen minutes left before the meeting began. “Maybe I should go home.” I thought. “I’ve made good progress today even making it this far. I can try again next week.” A sharp HONK behind me broke my thought process and I drove without a sense of direction. Somehow, I found the building indicated on the website. I looked at my phone again and saw I had five minutes. “I made it this far. What’s another few steps?”
I stood outside of a small conference room peering in through a window and I saw a long table surrounded by occupied chairs, with people inside that were talking cheerfully amongst themselves. “Is this the right room?” I wondered. With my arms feeling like cement, I opened the front door and I made a beeline for the empty chair near the back of the room I’d spotted from the window and in the safety of my seat I risked a glance up and studied the people around me. There were a lot of gray heads and crinkled eyes smiled briefly in my direction before turning away. I did my best to look composed, grateful that the long table hid both my legs uncontrollable bouncing. A few moments later, a woman walked into the room.
“Hello! I’m sorry I’m late everyone!” She said as she rushed to the seat at the head of the table. “Oh it’s been a busy day! But I’m here and so are all of you so let’s get started!” She had a soft smile on her face as she looked around the room. “We are going to start with our check-in but before we do that for those who are new,” Her eyes lingered in my direction for a moment. “My name is Marilyn and I am a clinical therapist with a speciality in grief. Now, a check-in is where you tell us your name, the name of the person you lost and what your relationship with them was, what type of cancer they had, and the date that they died. Who would like to start?” A person raised their hand and began.
“What did I get myself into?” I thought as the check-ins began. “The first words I’m going to say to all of these strangers is my mom died?” I wrung my hands under the table as my turn approached. “What if I start crying? What if I choke on my words?” There were now three people left before my check-in. “Maybe I should write this down and read it off.” I reached for my notebook as the person next to me finished and suddenly all eyes were on me. “Uhh..” I said, stalling. “Hi, my name is Jimmy. I lost my mom Nelly to lung cancer,” my voice cracked and I took a deep breath, “on December 25th, 2016.”
“Thank you for sharing Jimmy and welcome to our group.” Marilyn said with a smile.
Now, I don’t spend time debating in front of my closet and I never get lost on my way to a meeting. Attending group has become part of my grounding routine. I feel safe and welcome and I attribute so much of my growth because of the meetings. I don’t doubt my mom led me to the group because she knew I needed companionship and guidance. It’s so like her, to still be taking care of me, even from the other side.