The Guest House

It was November. At this point in treatment I made a promise to myself that I was going to stop using behaviors. I was going to stop restricting and follow my meal plan. I was going to keep reducing laxatives. It has been 3 weeks of IOP and I was losing time. I needed to do what the therapists asked me to do to make sure I got better. I made this promise not realizing the challenges that lay ahead. I had no concept of how much I had come to rely on my behaviors to deal with my emotions. The first few meals were a breeze, but by the end of the second day eating all three meals and still reducing my laxative use, I felt like I was going crazy. I remember doing an exercise in an experiential group that was really eye opening. The therapist asked us to read this poem:

The Guest House

By: Rumi

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

After reading the poem we were given a coloring page. It was a house. We were instructed to pick 5 colors to represent the core emotions: joy, sadness, anger, fear, love. We could color our picture any way we wanted to color it. I colored the sky outside yellow (joy). The house itself was blue (sadness), with a pink door (love) and green windows (fear). There was red smoke coming out of the chimney (anger). I didn't think too much about it as I colored away happily.

The therapist asked us all to share with the group what each color represented. I always felt like the therapists were so wise and all-knowing and were sort of "tricking" us into recovery. I realize now they don't always know what we're thinking. Their jobs are simply to facilitate realization and change, and I appreciate that ability so much.

So, we're going around the room, every woman sharing her house, which really represents herself, and it gets to me. I've heard what the other ladies have said and felt sorry for them all. How sad to have all that sadness, anger, etc. I'm always really good at having sympathy for other people. Me, though? I was just coloring a pretty picture. When the therapist asked me to try to analyze why I chose to place the emotions where I did, I know I looked confused. I literally could not answer because I was so taken aback. It was Tracy who spoke up to analyze me. "I think the outside of your house is happy and joyful because that's what you want everyone to see. Your door is pink because you let people in very easily and show love right away. The main part of the house is sadness because I think you feel that way the most. Your windows are fear because you're afraid to look out and see what's really going on, and your anger sneaks out sometimes like the smoke." The more she talked, the more emotional I became. I was so confused. That wasn't me. Was it? I was quiet the rest of the group (rare).

On the way home I kept thinking about that picture. I didn't want to be only "outwardly" happy. Was I? If so, why? What was I sad about? What was that smoke seeping out? It was time to explore that house a little more and figure out what was going on in there.