Thursday, March 28, 2019, 5:30-7:00 p.m.
Today was an “early” day when I set my alarm clock to make sure we’d be up and ready to go to Linda’s 11 o’clock appointment with Dr. Neuwalt. It was one of those days when it was hot in the sun and cold in the shade. Too hot to sit in the van unless I could figure out how to open the window, but too cold to take a walk with Emily without my jacket.
But we had a lovely walk, even though I had to carry her over to the grassy place between the buildings. Linda came out with a sheaf of papers, as usual. We had time enough for brunch (at home) with not enough time to work on any major project, but enough time to waste time on Facebook.
We left at 4:44 p.m. and it was a quick drive to Union City, in spite of commute traffic. The weather was clear and cool but not cold, so I wore my thin jacket instead of the thick one.
When Lisa began the session, there were 7 of us there in the room. We began with a check in and report on our commitment from last session. Some didn’t remember what their commitment was, but Lisa had written it down and she reminded them.
She began with a review of Mindfulness, that it focuses on the present moment, not the past or future. She presented another tool for depression called ACT, or Acceptance & Commitment Therapy, based on the idea that “happiness” is an illusion, a misrepresentation of life, and that it feeds depression.
She mentioned a book called The Happiness Trap by author Russ Harris, which further described ACT. “By clarifying your values and developing mindfulness (a technique for living fully in the present moment), ACT helps you escape the happiness trap and find true satisfaction in life.”
She said we have “sticky thoughts,” and we get fused to our thoughts. Thus, the healing process is called defusion. To get distance and perspective, and stay objective.
Then she said something about a value-driven life, and barriers to that. All I could think of was Rick Warren’s “purpose-driven life” and wondered if there is a relationship. She defined “value” as an end result. She then asked each of us in turn: “If someone asked you what you think is the most valuable thing about you, what would you want to be able to say?” I said without hesitation, “I raised great kids!” Others said caring, loyalty, dependability, commitment, passion, etc.
Then she directed us in a 60-second guided meditation exercise. “Imagine you are in a plain room, all gray, with two doors across from each other, and a conveyor belt that comes in through one door and out the other door. There are containers on the conveyor belt and as you let go of your thoughts, put them into the containers and let them go out.”
After that, she asked us to describe what we imagined and how it felt to let go of our thoughts. I said that I saw this room but in grayscale instead of color. The conveyor belt was gray and the containers were gray. She asked how many containers I saw. I said 8 or 10, and she said that was good.
The last thing I wrote in my notes was “suffering = pain + nonacceptance of that pain”
The fire alarm just above the door started dinging non-stop. Lisa grabbed her key to the room and went out for a moment. She came back in and said she didn’t see anybody doing anything. But the fire alarm kept dinging. Over and over and over.
Lisa went out again, stayed a little longer this time. When she came back in, she said there was a funny smell, like burnt toast. But still she didn’t see anybody doing anything and there was no one around to ask. Then she went out again. Even longer this time.
“We’re evacuating,” she said calmly when she came back in. So we all grabbed for our notebooks and papers and jackets, if we had one. There was no panic, just instructions to go downstairs and wait outside. But there was George in a heavy-duty electric wheelchair. And the elevator was not in operation.
Five of us went downstairs and outside, while Lisa and Miguel, always the helper, stayed on the second floor with George. It was chilly outside, and my thin jacket wasn’t quite enough to keep me warm. Monique with the curly permed hair was a constant talker. There was Dan, the obese one, and the Indian woman and the French woman. And me. Also outside were staff and patients from the Ob/Gyn Department and the Clinical Laboratory.
There was a red Alameda County Fire/Paramedic truck outside and two or three firefighters in full uniform with instruments hanging from their jackets and pants. We watched as they went inside. After what seemed like a very long time, random people came through announcing partial news. “There is something burning in the elevator shaft.” “There’s oil burning in the elevator, but there’s no danger to anyone.” Then one of the security guards very officially told us we could go back inside.
We could see all the elevator doors were open with yellow CAUTION tape crisscrossed over their openings. I saw George who had been carried downstairs on a Stryker transport chair now waiting in the Laboratory area. At the top of the stairs, Lisa was still there with the two firefighters trying to figure out how to get George’s very heavy electric wheelchair down two flights of stairs and a landing. The only way was to carry it–very carefully! Which they did successfully.
By the time our whole group was together downstairs, and the paramedics had transferred George into his own wheelchair, it was 6:55 p.m., and Lisa dismissed our class. Until next week.
So I will continue to try to be in bed by midnight and practice mindfulness and identifying negative thoughts that are impacting my depression events.
