I Am Not Groot
For many years I’ve had trouble expressing my thoughts and feelings out loud.
Last Sunday, I had a Zoom call with one of the fellows from my group––and by fellows, I mean women, but we call each other fellows because that’s 12 Step program language.
She asked me how I was, and feeling playful and happy I started to say, “I’m good,” but instead, this popped out,
“I am Groot.
I am Groot!
I am Groot?
I ammmmm Grooooooooot!
She looked at me with a quizzical expression on her face. I filled her in.
Okay. I am not Groot. I am Nan. Who is this Groot, you ask? If you had posed this question a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have known the answer. I met Groot because my girlfriend introduced us. She was really into Marvel movies. All of them. I don’t think I’d ever seen one before we met.
Because I wanted to know about the things that she loved, I signed on to get educated about the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Superheroes fighting evil forces in a make-believe world is not something that’s terribly appealing to me. Although these days, I wouldn’t say no to a real-life superhero making a dramatic entrance to save us from the bad guys. Because right now, there are an awful lot of bad guys. But in the movies? It’s okay, but it’s not a genre I’m drawn to. I’m not a fan of science fiction or fantasy.
We watched Captain America; Captain Marvel; Iron Man 1, 2, & 3 (because even I think Robert Downey, Jr. is hot); The Incredible Hulk; Thor; Thor (the Dark World) Thor: Ragnarok, Avengers 1, 2, 3, & 4. I saw the cat who’s not a cat, but a Flerken. We didn’t watch them grouped by superhero, but in the order in which they were made––apparently, it’s the best way to do it. The movies were entertaining, sometimes a little too loud and violent, but I was kind of into it.
Then, we watched Guardians of the Galaxy 1 & 2, where I made my acquaintance with Groot, and something flipped for me. I fell hard for the guy.
What can I say about him? In a word, Groot is a tree. He’s not an ordinary tree. He’s a tree-like being, a Flora colossus from Planet X. He’s strong, and brave, and powerful. He can be killed, but he’s got the ability to regenerate over and over––as long as someone’s taken a cutting. Groot is cute. Groot is also almost mute. He’s a tree of few words. Three to be exact. I AM GROOT. He can communicate effectively through the use of inflection and tone. As people and other beings get to know him, they start to understand what he says. Underneath his scant vocabulary, he’s quite a sophisticated thinker, if one knows how to listen. Context gives meaning to his limited lexicon. His stiff wooden larynx prevents him from saying more. This is the case with all members of his species. They all say, “I am Groot.”
Over the course of the three Guardians of the Galaxy movies, I got to know Groot as a baby (he’s extra cute), a teenager (kind of annoying), an adult, and a giant version who can fly.
What do I love about Groot? Well, I love that he’s a tree. He’s firmly planted, and capable of surviving devastating injury and death. He gets up again, and again, and again.
He does have trouble expressing himself verbally. That reminds me of aspects of myself, though the reasons are different. For many years I’ve had trouble expressing my thoughts and feelings out loud, though my larynx is just fine. I don’t always process ideas and emotions quickly, or easily. I’m a muller. When confronted in the moment, especially if the moment is heated, I can shut down. I have a “deer in the headlights” look on my face, and I want to melt into the background, or run away. The trip from my head and heart to my tongue is often arduous. I have to sit with things that are hard, that require thought and time to understand. I need to mull, and in my rattled state, I put pressure on myself to respond right away. I experience fight, flight, and freeze almost simultaneously. Responding in the moment rarely works out well.
When my words come out as a response to conflict, it’s the result of being in a state of reactivity, not wisdom, not patience, not calm. The words, the thoughts are muddled and chaotic. I want to prove that I’m right. I can’t stand to be wrong. There’s no constellation of possible responses. For me, it’s always been black or white.
In recovery I’m learning to pause, to ground, to ask for space, instead of letting my words burst forth, untethered and undisciplined. I’m giving myself permission to not know my answers right away. Taking responsibility for my reactions, instead blaming my difficulties on something outside of myself, is working much better. Learning to slow down allows me to get to know myself, trust my instincts more, take care of my heart, and accept myself for who I am. I think Groot accepts himself for who he is. It doesn’t matter that he’s often misunderstood. He speaks and sometimes his messages get through. He doesn’t seem to care what others think of him. That’s inspiring. I want that for myself. Part of my inability to speak my truth has been because I’m afraid I’ll be judged harshly.
All of this is still a balancing act, because at this point in my recovery, I haven’t gained muscle memory for a gentler way to express myself. I’m so accustomed to feeling like I have to defend something. It’s hard for me to honor my need to go slow, to sit with and identify my true feelings.
The more time I spend on my road to recovery, the more I’m able to express my thoughts and ideas, my joy, and my sorrows. I’m coming forward, counting myself in, and using my words to belong to the world. I’m more able to say what I need, what I want, and what I don’t want.
When I’m writing, it’s easier, because it’s just me, my laptop, and the freedom to ponder in a quiet place. I like to let things simmer for hours or days. Since I started writing more regularly, I’ve been afraid that I might run out of things to say. Instead, I’m discovering that the more I write, the more I write.
Sometimes I’m surprised by what comes forth. I said that? That was me? Eloquent in ways that make me see that my ideas have value. All of the feelings that have been buried deep are surfacing. When I take time to stop, get curious, and listen, the more I’m able to share. I’m not afraid to be heard anymore, and so I speak when I’m ready, out loud or on the page. And unless I’m way out of line, I’ve stopped apologizing for who I am.
He is Groot. I am Nan. At the end of the third Guardians of the Galaxy film, Groot says something new and every one hears it. Do they hear him because he’s gained the power of speech, or because they know who he is and have learned how to listen?
There’s another thing I share with Groot. I’ve gotten knocked down by life a lot, I’ve had moments of wanting to give up, but I never do. I get back up. Again, and again, and again.
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NAN!!! I love Groot too!!! My favorite superhero is not really a traditional superhero, but it's the Ents from Lord of the Rings :) also a tree 💚
So much of what you said I really relate too. I tend to speak before I think and will let words fly like daggers if I'm feeling defensive. And then I'll immediately shut down. I have learned that the best thing I can do is say how I feel and then ask for space to process everything. I cannot think clearly if I'm perceiving being attacked.
I love how you tied together the ability to listen and hear once you know the other. I believe that makes all the difference in relationships :)
Thank you for this piece today! It'll stay with me for a long while 💚💚
Maybe we are Groot! (Or at least a distant cousin 💚)
💯 Completely and totally - I could write a whole post about this too, but I'm glad you did, Nan - and I applaud your journey. Two more three word responses that I've adopted to express the unexpressable: "I am uncomfortable" (from an old friend) and "I am confused" (from Tom Pendergast of Out Over My Skis.) 💜