At my local hobby club, I have become aware of an undercurrent of swirling energy. I feel it at the edges of my nerves and stomach every time I leave for the club, and I have to brush aside these fluttering black butterflies detracting from my happiness. As I drive down the highway, the pavement stretches before my eager tires. My exit is still miles away and out of sight, yet the swarm settles into my gut long before I turn into the parking lot.
I attempt to distract myself with thoughts of family, work, and to do lists. Nothing works. I find myself mentally rehearsing the exit plan for locating to another hobby club. This settles me, and I continue thinking of the details of my action plan until the crunch of gravel announces I have arrived at my destination. I focus on my tasks and goals, the reason I am here. I ask myself: how is it that a hobby has turned into an unpleasant affair?
I reach my usual spot and become aware once again of the pull of energy. There are whispers in the corners, gossip and tension. I can’t put my finger on what’s going on. Will I be forced to take sides? Neither side seems right in this conflict. I feel the unspoken messages in the silences between the words. I don’t want to be part of this. The energy hooks you in, enticing and seducing you to feed it; it grows and spreads. That’s the way with drama.
When I encounter drama in my life, I work to practice good healthy habits, distancing myself so I don’t catch this viral contagion.
