‘Doomed, doomed from birth!’ Dora repeated the phrase to herself for the umpteenth time as she walked up to the cash till at her local co-op.
‘What was that dear?’ asked the cashier, ’Did you say Doom beer? We’re all out, but there’s a special on just now on this lot, six cans for the price of four,’ pointing to the drinks shelf behind the counter at multi-coloured cans with their consumer messaging emblazoned into the aluminium, she smiled a warm, open smile.
Dora mortified at the idea of having to explain herself, lied. ‘Yes, yes, that’s right, I did, I have some friends coming by later, I’ll take them.’
‘Well, that’s lovely, how about some of these Pork Scratchings to go with them, my Harry says they’re just the ticket with a nice cold beer.’
Helplessly, Dora, a tee-total vegetarian without beer-swilling friends, waved her card to pay for the cans, snacks, and the loaf of bread she was really there for. Squishing everything into her everlasting, green carrier bag, half smiling her thanks to the cashier, she left.
A full smile had been beyond Dora, all her adult years. A full smile, means connecting, with the moment, with another person or feeling and that’s difficult to do when your head is full of self-talk.
God, how stupid am I, talk about endangered, why did I mention being doomed, so stupid, I’m my own worst enemythe negativity exploded and circled inside her head, Dora felt clammy, and wanted to sit down somewhere until that familiar sense of opaqueness cleared. She made do with leaning against a wall for a minute. The nearest public seating was half a mile away at the local park. It would be faster to make her way home, at least that was calm and had a comfortable sofa. But no, she had to get to Nora’s basement flat. Her music teacher had asked her to pick up a loaf on her way, and now she was verging on being late for her lesson. The clarinet case weighed heavily, the whole world seemed to be closing in on her; pressure.
Nora, hobbled to the door to let her in, a heavily bandaged left foot and a crutch in hand. ‘Come in, come in, you look dreadful, such huge eyes, what’s with those dark circles, mind the piano, sit down over there and don’t make a mess.’
Dora’s eyes widened further…make a mess…make a mess…the place was a pig sty, verging on unsanitary, make a mess! It took one moment- that moment, to radically change doom-laden, dreary Dora into everybody’s darling. Dear Dora. Just a minor rearrangement of letters to change her world. It’s often the way, a tipping point; when staying the same is more uncomfortable than the required shift to become unstuck and grow.
Incensed, she looked Nora in the eye.
‘You!’ she spat out, ‘… can begin with Thank You Dora, and end with an apology!’
Clearing a muddle of papers and old Chinese takeaway cartons from the most comfortable chair in the room Dora sat down, sat back, reached into her bag, pulled out a can of Daisy Moll, ripped back the opener like a pro and downed half of it before asking Nora if she cared to join her. She smiled as she noticed the 0.5% alcohol rating, she wasn’t going to get drunk on that! The smile was big, a full-on, light-up-my-day smile that took Nora aback for a second time. Nora took the proffered can sniffily.
‘Thank You, Dora.’
Bending down Nora picked up an official-looking letter from her grubby floor, smoothing it out, with her mottled hand.
‘I’m sorry dear, this came for you a while back.’
She looked away as Dora took it from her and carefully opened it, sliding a perfectly manicured nail across the crease of the envelope.
‘It’s from…’
‘I know, I know,’ Nora interrupted.
‘I applied for you. I spoke to my nephew a few weeks back and he uploaded a recording of your practice session, to the tube -y thing. The audition is next week. Not exactly X- factor but the Royal College is not to be sniffed at, and it’s a charity case.’
‘What do you mean a charity case? I’m not a charity case!’ Dora was almost shouting.
‘What I mean is …it’s a scholarship, a big scholarship, I know you have qualified but this is different, you can study with the greats, … You are great Dora…you just don’t believe it and I got bored trying to persuade you differently.’
‘When did you ever try that? You do nothing but put me down, the voice inside my head is mostly yours!’
‘It’s just a habit, Dora … I have some rude habits…’ She raised the can distractedly, ‘Look at this … Daisy Moll, beer for bad girls! Were you ever a bad girl Dora? When did you ever take a risk or believe in yourself, playing for others, instead of only for yourself, and me?’ she added as an afterthought. ‘You are so caught up in your head, everything begins and ends with you, worrying what others think of you, determined that life dealt you a rough hand. You are ego-trapped, stuck at twelve years old, being laughed at in assembly for playing a bum note because of a split reed. Who are you? What are you? A twenty-eight-year-old, exceptionally talented, adult musician, or an embarrassed child in an old body?’ Nora ran out of steam and flopped back down onto her piano stool.
‘Well?’ she asked, militantly.
Dora was taken aback. Selfish? Stuck in the past? No, surely not and The Royal School of Music! She had her teaching degree, she just wasn’t that good, no one had ever really said she was good, well, she thought quietly, Except her music teachers at school, including Nora, and she had been asked to join a lot of jazz and classical musicians for various performances at Uni, but she’d always turned them down, they didn’t mean it, and then that guy downstairs below the rehearsal rooms, he had taken to working late every night of the week in his studio so that he could listen to her play….or so he said. Slowly, she began to realise how she had been deleting the good news out of her life. Only paying attention, to the expectation that she deserved nothing better than ordinary. Nora had just ended up agreeing with Dora, and that meant that at least she still got to meet with her star pupil weekly.
‘…and what’s with this pathetic ‘doomed from birth’ idea that you keep in your mind?’
‘Don’t hold anything back now Nora will you!’
‘Well?’
‘It was just my Mum; she didn’t cope well when my Dad left and that’s what she would say for years,’
‘I must have been doomed, doomed from birth, Dora, to struggle on through life on my own.’
‘And I guess the message that always stayed with me was the ‘doomed from birth Dora’ part.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Oh, about six, I think.’ It was painfully dawning on Dora that it wasn’t her that her Mum had been talking about.
I really have been putting myself down haven’t I … she could feel her thoughts pressure and build, the slight fuzziness around the fringe of her awareness, Nora’s voice seemed to be coming from a long, long way away.
Nora snapped her fingers. ‘OK, stop that now. Hold your breath. You are experiencing panic and over breathing …You are safe just now Dora. Just say in your mind and repeat in your mind the words I am safe, I am safe, three times, that’s right. And take a long slow deep breath, breathe out all that tension on the outward breath…that’s right, that’s good, just breathing slowly and deeply, I am safe, I am safe.’
The colour started to return to Dora’s cheeks as her oxygen levels stabilised, and her rational mind sprang back into gear.
‘I need to sort myself out.’
‘You Do!’
‘But How?’
‘Ummm, well, practise your breathing. Three long deep slow breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth whenever you have a negative thought and focus on the phrase, I am safe, I am safe, then after a while, when you realise you are in control of how safe you feel, you could use a different phrase’.
Like?
‘Oh, I don’t know, how about, I am a great musician, or I am gifted, or Today is a good day or – look anything! Beer is for badass girls. Something that works for you, that’s meaningful to you.’
‘How do you know this stuff?’
‘I had to learn it. I saw someone years ago for some help. I was in a bad place in one way and another. The thing that stuck with me was when I learned to be more in control of how I respond to the world around me and not just react to it. Therapy didn’t make me tidier, or cleverer or less rude to others but it did help me get comfortable inside my own skin. The thing about using your breath is that you take it with you, wherever you are. Your breath is always available, well in life anyway.’
Nora grinned and drained her Daisy Moll can dry.
‘OK, enough. Audition or not to audition? That is the question!’
A pause, Dora took her three deep slow breaths I am a great musician, I am a great musician I am a great musicianshe murmured inside her head then opened her eyes wide and nodded.
‘Audition!’ She announced. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘Well Dora, my darling, dear Dora, I am so glad, quickly, get your clarinet and warm up, I can still give you some guidance, even with a gammy foot.’ Nora turned to her piano and ran her fingers lightly across the keyboard smiling quietly to herself. I am a great teacher, she thought, I am a great teacher, I am a great teacher…three deep breaths now and carry on.
They took a moment and smiled a warm, genuine smile of friendship, and made music.