Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Truth Be Told...


Everybody's Weird

Almost everyone is screwed up, broken, clingy, scared, and yet designed for joy...Besides, those few people who aren't a mess are probably good for about twenty minutes of dinner conversation.”
Anne Lamott (Almost Everything: Notes on Hope, p.55)

Anne Lamott's chapter in Almost Everything is titled, “Humans 101.” My friends and I often comment that “everybody's so weird,” or that we don't know any “normal people.” We laugh, but it's true, and it includes each and everyone of us. Everybody, especially people who appear to have it all together, have an equally large “not-together” side. Jung called these two parts of us the persona (how we appear to others and how we often perceive ourselves) and the shadow (those parts of us we try to keep hidden, or don't know about at all). Many of us function in the outside world as competent and reliable people, while on the inside, we are filled with fear, and blundering. Our incompetence may show itself in our personal life—in how we keep our home or how we treat our family. We may be besieged by fantastic fears based in unreality. It is almost as though we make up things to torment ourselves. Humans...we are well and truly strange.

Given that all people have quirks and inconsistencies, I would say simply that these are the very things that make us interesting. These parts of us, some capable, some utterly pathetic, give depth and color to a life and a personality that would otherwise be robotic. Because we know our own incapacity, we all feel insecure, which we either try our dead-level-best to conceal, or else fall prey to crippling anxiety in the face of it. We compare our insides to other people's outsides—our shadow to their persona. It's an unfair comparison. In the best of all worlds, we could own all our parts, and actually learn to love them. I am competent, and I am absolutely screwed-up. I am honest and trustworthy, and I am a rogue and feral creature. I could go on, but I'll spare you the dark details.

The 12-step programs insist on uncovering all the parts we know about—the good, the bad, and the truly ugly. They teach honest self-evaluation, and disclosure of all the secret fears and destructive behaviors, first, to one's sponsor, and then, to the group in the telling of one's story. I confess I have never stood before a group of my peers and revealed my seedy side and my failures—it must take super-human courage to do that. But this is the way we learn to stop lying to ourselves and to everybody else about who we are—in our entirety. What we learn, too, is to not take ourselves so seriously; to laugh at our own weirdness, and to understand that there are plenty of kindred spirits out there who share our insecurity. Once revealed, we feel cleaner and clearer. We can start over and begin to face our fears with courage and strength. Now, we've brought our shadow, or at least some of it, into the light of day and incorporated it into our persona, giving depth and texture to the person we recognize ourselves to be. And sometimes, our stories are truly hilarious, which is why tears and laughter mix at 12-step meetings. In addition, revealing our “insides,” our insecurity, our failure, is like taking off a hair-shirt. It opens us to freedom and possibility. Humans---we are complex and weird, and “designed for joy!” Thank God for that.

                                                                In the Spirit,
                                                                      Jane

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