“Gary’s scapulas used to stick out in a way that made Burton aware of the elegiac beauty of the human who was his grandson. This was his curse, he now understood, to see things at a distance, to appreciate – that awful word. His intellect was always there, mediating his experience, narrating his life as if he wouldn’t understand it otherwise.” – an excerpt from ‘Pond’ (a short story from the collection ‘Alone With You’ by Marisa Silver).

On the flight across Canada I finished reading the first of ten books that I brought with me for a three week trip to Nova Scotia (I wanted to bring more). The passage I just shared gave me chills when I read it. “Narrating his life as if he wouldn’t understand it otherwise” – that’s precisely what I do on this blog. I write about my life and the thoughts that haunt me in a mostly exasperated effort to understand how I fit into the puzzle.The further I dig, the more confused I become.

What puzzle am I trying to fit into? What am I watching for? What am I trying to understand? I feel like it all comes down to one word: Happiness. On the exterior, some people appear to live and interact with the world so effortlessly. We usually aren’t privy to the eternal worlds of others, but we all have our demons. It’s hard to feel safe when you feel trapped in your thoughts and your own experience. Reading and acting have both helped me to see that I am not alone.

What I Learned at An Alcoholics Anonymous Meeting

I went to an alcoholics anonymous meeting with someone close to me (for support) last night. Before each member took to the mic, they first introduced themselves as an alcoholic. At first, this identification bugged me. I thought to myself “by continuously identifying yourself as an alcoholic, you’ll never be able to move forward.” By the end of the meeting, my feelings had changed. I realized that alcoholism was a world that I knew nothing about. Nothing. What I do know about is perfectionism, workaholism, and body shaming. These are the ways that I attack myself. These are the ways that I numb myself to my most deeply embedded fears. Different words for different coping mechanism, but just like them I have a tendency to hurt myself in a misguided effort to protect myself. Maybe that’s just human?

“Perfection is self-destructive simply because perfection doesn’t exist,” said Brene Brown in her book ‘Daring Greatly’ (a must-read). “It’s an unattainable goal. Perfectionism is more about perception than internal motivation, and there is no way to control perception, no matter how much time and energy we spend trying.”

This is what the AA meeting taught me: healing and connection are intertwined. I watch the world because I know that I am not perfect. I watch for clues of imperfection in others so that I can relax and be myself without shame.

“Perfection is addictive, because when we invariably do experience shame, judgement, and blame, we often believe it’s because we weren’t perfect enough. Rather than questioning the faulty logic of perfectionism, we become even more entrenched in our quest to look and do everything just right.” – Brene Brown

Me too! I remember auditing an acting class with Larry Moss. It was the first time the internal worlds of other’s were so bravely opened up in front of me. I think that was the moment I fell in love with acting. Of course I’d been exposed to different internal dialogues through the stories I devoured as a child, but this was the first time I heard them. This was the first time I visually saw and appreciated the release of tension that holding our secrets – our fears – too close to our hearts can cause. I was speechless.

So what is the value of identifying yourself as an alcoholic (a perfectionist, a workaholic)?

This is what I think: I think that by acknowledging our tendencies, we release their hold over us; their power. Your ‘ism’ can’t shame you if you share its existence openly. Maybe it’s by releasing these sources of internal tension that we finally open ourselves up to connection – to more easily being able to interact with the world without fear.

I think there’s one other reason why this identification is important. This goes against my beliefs in fluid identity (slightly)… but I think there’s value in remembering where you came from. I think there’s value in remembering the traps that once clamped down on your ankles, your neck, your mind. Even in history there’s a cycle of repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe acknowledgement that we once made this decision is the first step toward choosing a better decision the next time.

I didn’t understand how the AA members could tell the room ‘I am an alcoholic’ so openly, and without voices weighed down by shame. I realize now that the reason is because – quite simply – this identity no longer shames them. They’ve reclaimed their power through acknowledgement and connection. They’ve reclaimed their right to feel strong and powerful in their lives.

“Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always beyond your grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne

As the meeting adjourned I felt overwhelmed by the strength in the room – strength I can only begin to understand. I know nothing about their worlds. There’s so much that I am blind to; ignorant to; afraid to understand. What I do feel like I’m beginning to understand is this: connection is so much of the time the answer we’re running from.