Saturday afternoons have recently become a permanent fixture in my diary. This is when I run my weekly peer support group sessions in central London. I've been using a relatively quiet and comfortable space for the purpose at City Lit, an adult education college. When I arrived at the venue yesterday and walked up to the automatic glass doors they didn't open. City Lit was closed. My intended first port of call on arrival had been the desperate use of the loo. Compounding this urinary urgency was the immediate realisation that my cohort of peer group attendees would be arriving shortly with nowhere to be accommodated.
A newbie was the first to arrive. As it turns out she knew no English; our entire communication was conducted via Google translate on her mobile accompanied with a heavier-than-usual reliance on non-verbal communication. She shared some personal information for which I won't go into any detail to preserve confidentiality, suffice to simply say that she recently had to come to a foreign country, where she knew nobody, didn't speak the language and felt isolated. She had found my peer support group online and she was now standing right in front of me, her fixated gaze seeking solace.
One by one, the other attendees started to materialise, a mixture of regulars and first-timers. One such of the latter seemed hesitant and expressionless. I immediately sensed that they were not of the type who are naturally comfortable with new people or in groups. Whilst trying to welcome everybody as they arrived, I made several attempts to engage with my cautious newcomer. I wanted to make her feel included and to try and allay any social anxieties she may have had at least to some extent so that she would feel a little bit more comfortable within the group.
The warm and sunny weather helped Lincoln's Inn Fields, the local park, to quickly make its way onto the radar as a good enough alternative from which we could run the day's session. We neatly placed ourselves in a circle on the grass on arrival and commenced proceedings with a short introduction of the session, mainly for the benefit of newcomers, followed by briefly introducing ourselves to each other. At this point we would normally start to share our own personal stories for which we would find peer feedback useful in helping us with our thoughts and feelings.
The session did not unfold quite as expected. The social anxiety may have been too much for our hesitant member; she got up and left, followed not long after by our non-English speaking friend. Following on from this, the sharing and feedback was superseded by a wider conversation, itself meaningful and engaging, but not quite the level of peer support intended. Perhaps the environment wasn't quite right; there were groups of people scattered around everywhere, noisily drinking and laughing; there were two barbeques on the go with smoke everywhere; children playing football and screaming, with joy I think; a woman throwing a big stick which her Golden Retriever would diligently run and fetch for her.
We just went with the flow and had a pleasant afternoon! Our discussion was deep enough and fostered a connection through shared experience. There was a therapeutic element to the session. Maybe it can still count as peer support! But perhaps not so for the two participants that prematurely disbanded. I thought about them afterwards and puzzled as to what else I or anyone else could have done to help them feel more at ease. I was overshadowed by a feeling of guilt; a sense of failure. I questioned the very essence of my ability to even be running a peer support group. Perhaps there was nothing further that could have been done; maybe my peer support group just wasn't right for them. It must be of use to some people though as they do come back!
There's a fine line between lame attempts to console myself and true reality of a situation. I like to believe my intentions are worthy; I want to help as many other people as possible and perhaps must learn to accept that I just can't help everyone. It is not my responsibility to do so and equally I probably ought to be aware that I do have a responsibility to help myself, something which I often forget. There was a lot to reflect on but in the meantime I really needed to find a toilet.
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