Hello♡,
I had jury duty yesterday in Atlanta. In spite of what often happens, I did actually have to go in, and I did actually get picked to be questioned for the jury of a violent crime. - but not picked for the trial. (I do not know what I am at liberty to share, but I will say my heart is heavy with worry and grief and prayers for everyone involved in that case.)
The holding room was full of people all leaving their jobs, and children, and lives, to serve. And it is an inconvenience to everyday life. (Although I was struck by the weight of this imperfect system as I spent the day in it.)
I wasn’t in a great mood getting there in all honesty. I have a huge book deadline looming near, and I had earmarked that day, one without therapy clients, to write and most importantly finish some things. I was fussy about it, like a toddler not getting what they want. And we were out of eggs.
And yet there I was heading to jury duty.
As I moved into the day - parking, getting the shuttle, lining up with all the strangers, I softened. I really like people so much for how deeply introverted I am. There were some with lunchboxes (smart), some with tired brows, some with sparkly heels, and others with kind smiles. And, it was honestly all a pretty fascinating process. And my earlier tantrum I left the house with that morning was long gone. I had adapted to the inconvenience, to my duty. And I even made a friend. We had lunch together and I learned all about her life. I allowed the flow of the day, of what IS, to take me to what was next. It was so much easier that way! It was out of my control, so I decided to stop fighting the current like a toddler kicking waves.
We were all there in a huge room, truly expecting (and hoping) to be sent home. But then I was called, picked for further questioning for trial (I found out later that night I was not selected for trial). I went with the other 59 jurors picked to be questioned and found my place in line, number 41. We were trying to put ourselves in numerical order as instructed, not unlike in kindergarten. Everyone looked tired but was cordial and kind. There was a sense, that continued as the day dragged on into evening with individual juror questioning, that we were in this together.
I asked the woman in front of me what her number was as we lined up, and she announced to me and loudly for everyone: “I don’t know. I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE.” Everyone looked uncomfortable. Some people snickered. The woman seemed to vibrate with her resentment. She pulled out her phone and began angry texting someone. I was tempted to look! But I figured it would say the same thing: I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE.
Someone working for the court began verifying our names and numbers, and when they got to this woman she didn’t answer “here” to her name like the rest of us, she announced even more loudly again, “I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE.” Everyone looked uncomfortable. The awkward giggles a little louder this time. She was so rude to the kind clerk. The clerk exchanged glances with the jurors, and said kindly, “yes, we know that.”
This woman seemed so miserable and irritable, and of course I don’t know her story, just her behavior choices in those moments. She didn’t want to be here (we all knew that by now). And yet, here she was.
Ever been in a moment like that?
And before you think I judged her let me tell you what I honestly thought. I thought, “Oh my gosh. I am her. Wow, that’s me without a filter.” I do what she was doing all the time. Sure, not out loud. But, in my mind, in my body. The refusal at times to accept the discomforts, inconveniences, even frustrations and setbacks is real for me and for so many of us. (I am not talking about crises or loss today, I am talking about the annoying frustrations of life.)
We often resist what we are actually in. And we compound our misery.
The truth is, no one in that line likely wanted to be there. There were people in work clothes, scrubs, with walkers, at least two of them had broken ankles. There was a young pregnant woman. My new jury friend was on her vacation week! And she had a family health crisis at home. What I am saying again is, no one likely wanted to be there.
But I would bet this woman’s experience with her refusal to accept that this was indeed happening, the fact that she IS here, could have increased and compounded her experience negatively. But again, I don’t know. All I know is I am just like her in so many ways. I was just like her that morning (ask my husband), and there is a more gentle, fluid way to go with the daily frustrations that none of us can control. I was slated to stand right next to her, and I quietly thanked her for the lesson, of seeing myself in her proclamations.
“I don’t want to be here” creates more suffering with frustrations. Resisting what we already can’t control - the traffic, the grocery line, the sick child, the late coworker, the annoying meetings - creates more suffering.
Translating “I don’t want to be here,” to “I am actually here,” can make all the difference. Without the resistance to something you don’t like or don’t want, you are able to weather it with much more fluidity and grace.
There is a type of therapy Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) that I was trained partially in, and there is a concept they teach about called “Radical Acceptance.” I am not sure this is how they mean it to be used, but I will tell you how I have always used it personally, the first time on the highway in gridlock in Atlanta late for work: “I am radically accepting this.” Not just accepting it, radically allowing the truth of it to be. Letting it be. This is actually happening. And, I can still be ok.
Clearly, I have a long way to go as my jury mate taught me, and my husband would attest to. But it’s a choice that is always there, always lovingly available, and one that benefits our mental health (and probably those stuck around us) immensely.
I am actually here.
I am here.
What words would you use to describe your practice of acceptance? Or your resistance to it?
With you,
Monica
I will not resist what I can’t control.... old good words of wisdom going back many centuries, but darned, so hard to practice... and practice we need ...
Mike was in jury duty yesterday too! He was also in “I don’t want to be here mode” but he had Kelle Ortiz’ manuscript of her upcoming book on his phone. He ended up reading it and trying to hold back tears among all the people in that very crowded room. We were saying last night you never know how God can turn every moment into a holy experience ... if you’re willing