She doesn't like me
What happens when you walk into a room of people you don't know?
If you're like me (and pretty much everyone), you instinctually sense who feels safe. Often it's people who look or act like us. Then, after learning more about the group, we consciously or subconsciously decide where we fit on the totem pole.
This social scanning is nothing to feel guilty about—it's been hardwired for thousands of years of survival.
We're always playing these status games, so it's crucial to be aware of them. The issue with the status game is the insidious tendency to make oneself superior or inferior to others.
While on a Holotropic Breathwork workshop, I found myself creating such a hierarchy. I'm new to the Holotropic community, so I put those who have been breathing for decades above me. In the Holotropic universe, they have status, and I don't.
My pattern is to connect with people of status in order to boost my status. (I still care what others think.)
At breakfast one morning, I saw someone I projected had "High Status." She was around my age and had been doing this work for 18 years. I saw her seated alone at a table, so I grabbed my food and sat across from her. I left to get water and noticed that she moved her plate and sat at another table.
Things just got interesting…
A feeling of rejection smacked me in the face. Just like that, I was in middle school again. The cool girl doesn't like me! I sat down, feeling a rush of shame.
Luckily I've done enough work on myself to get curious. Although I felt rejected, part of me smiled, knowing that the retreat just got much more interesting.
When we got to our morning lecture, I was seated in front of her. I thought about turning to her to express my feelings, which is a healthy way to kick stories in the butt.
I wanted to say, "I noticed that when you saw me put my plate in front of you, you moved to another table. I felt rejection and made up a story that you don't like me."
Just as I was about to turn around, she got my attention and asked me to move over. That was enough of a pattern interrupt that I didn't tell her. I was glad. While It would have been a healthy way to communicate, It would have stymied what I could learn about myself for the next few days.
When triggered, we have two choices.
Go Outwards: Make it about others, not us. Vent our frustrations, blame people, and play victim.
Go Inwards: Stay curious, ask what is familiar about the feeling, and ask what this reminds us of, or what is trying to wake up.
A strong emotional reaction is a signal from our unconscious that something needs to heal or wake up.
So I sat with the feeling of rejection and noticed how interesting it was to feel that someone didn't like me. Thousands of strangers like me, or at least like my work, yet here I am, in a realm without status, feeling like a rejected 14-year-old again. Isn't life funny?
I continue the retreat. Sure enough, my projection got reinforced. Every opportunity she had to sit next to me, she went to another table. Maybe she really doesn't like me! My inner child protested. I wanted to talk to her about it. I planned to, but the timing never lined up. So instead, I kept going inwards.
I played a game where I picked someone else who I hadn't connected with and imagined how I would feel if that person did the same thing. I realized that I wouldn't care for most people—this included those that had "status" yet were much older than me. A core part of what I felt was because this person is around my age.
If you're triggered by a stranger your age, you're likely dealing with a childhood projection.
In my youth, I badly wanted to fit in with the cool crowd, and this caused me to leave people who cared about me to be associated with a higher status.
Aha, there's the pattern. I realize how often I seek attention from those who don't matter rather than giving my attention to those who do.
I'm a seeker in every way. There is a thrill in chasing what I don't have. This deludes me and makes me forego gratitude and appreciation for everything I do have.
The Work
I start my second breathwork session. I use the prompt:
Why do I want attention from those that don't matter instead of giving my attention to those that do?
It's a pattern I want to break. How? Breathe into it, and remember what matters.
I have compassion for the little boy that just wanted to connect and fit in. So I hug him and offer him love and support. He didn't want to feel alone. He just wanted to be accepted by others.
My breathwork takes me in another direction, but the lesson of needing validation and approval prevails.
I wanted to tell the woman, but the universe continually directed the week in a way that didn't allow it.
Toward the end of the workshop, I played with making a new story. What if the opposite were true? Maybe she is attracted to me and is too nervous to talk to me. My ego likes that story a lot more.
Here is where the polarity of this question doesn't work. Inferior and superior are two sides to the same coin. Just as I must do my work to rid the less-than projections, I must also do it on the more-than side.
The retreat ends, and I never end up telling her. It doesn't matter. Triggers and projections are too fertile of grounds for inner work. As I learned from psychedelics, I don't see reality. I see my mind's distorted projections of its past, biases, fears, and hopes.
Our work is not to change the distortions to make them hit our stuff less. It's to polish the light of awareness to see reality clearly.
That is the true work of Spirit.
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We go around the circle at the end, and everyone says goodbye. I tell the woman that I was bummed we never got a chance to connect.
She responded, "Yea, I felt we had a kindred spirit."