Mirrors, Mirrors, Everywhere

or wherever you go, there you are…

I had a humbling experience recently that reminded me that my recovery is an ever-evolving process. The old “two steps forward, one step back.” As I go along my merry way, thinking of how far I’ve come, proud of myself for letting go of negative behaviors and attitudes, situations pop up that remind me to stay humble, to trust that as far as I’ve come, there will always be challenges that present themselves to test my recovery and nudge me in the direction of greater honesty and self-awareness.

When I’m in a 12 Step meeting, I’m surrounded by like-minded people who understand the language I’m speaking because they speak it, too. But when I’m out in the “real” world, it’s up to me to live that language. To put the principles of Program into action with the choices I make, the interactions I have, and the way that I communicate.  And especially the ways in which I react…or over-react.

A couple of weeks ago, I had to go to the dentist to get an implant crown re-cemented. It had been loose, and then completely unglued for at least a couple of months, but somehow, when it would pop out of my mouth, and I’d shove it back onto its post, it would stay put for a little while. I did this over and over again for weeks. I was busy and didn’t want to make the time to get it fixed. I figured it was cool, as long as it didn’t fall out in front of other people, or I didn’t swallow it in my sleep. Not such great self-care, I know. I can be a procrastinator, which is also a behavior that needs my attention. One night, the crown jumped out, and finally refused to resume its place in my mouth. It was time.

I called the office, and they kindly squeezed me in, but told me I’d have to see a substitute dentist. Fine, that’s not an issue. “It’s just some cement,” I thought to myself. I arrived and was escorted to a treatment room by a dental assistant I’d never met. She was chatty, and a little overly familiar, but that was okay. I can be that way, too.

The dentist came into the treatment room and said hello, introduced himself and examined the crown and my mouth. He asked who did the work for me, and I told him my former dentist’s name. The assistant jumped in and said, “I hear she’s a real wacko.” Did I react? Oh, boy, did I ever. I looked her, and said, “That was entirely unprofessional and inappropriate! You have no idea what my relationship is with my previous dentist.” I was furious and self-righteous. I was aghast. I was appalled. Of course, I didn’t tell her that I thought the old dentist was a little nutty, too. BECAUSE THAT WAS BESIDE THE POINT! Oy, sometimes it’s really exhausting being me.

The dentist finished cementing the crown, in a treatment room filled with discomfort and tension. He left me sitting in the chair as I waited for the cement to harden, and the assistant came back to remove the cotton rolls I’d been biting down on. That was something else for me to be pissed about. The dentist should have known better than to leave me with her. She made a half-hearted attempt to apologize, but admitted that she didn’t really understand what she did wrong. I was less than gracious about it. When she was done, I marched out to the reception desk, privileged and indignant. I indicated to the office manager that I needed to talk to her, she nodded and mouthed, “I know what happened,” but she was with another patient and couldn’t talk to me. I mimed that I would talk to her later, left the office in a rage-y huff, went home, and churned, and stomped, and talked to myself about how right I was, and how wrong she was. I swore to myself I wasn’t going to pay the bill, and I wasn’t done complaining. The manager called me, she attempted to assuage my anger, and confirmed to me that I was right. She said that what happened was terrible, that the assistant would be spoken to, and that there was no charge for the service. Still not satisfied, I complained more, and she listened and agreed. I was just lovely. A real treat to be around.

Did I bother to look more deeply into my reaction? Why was I so angry? What about that experience knocked me off kilter? No, I didn’t look deeply. I didn’t get curious. I didn’t calm down.

A couple of days passed, and I was talking to a friend from program, and explaining what occurred. We share a practice of checking in daily to do an inventory of our actions, misdeeds, eating behaviors, and to discover amends we might owe to people. We also talk about what we’re grateful for.

As I was telling her about the dental debacle, my inner lightbulb finally lit up! I was hit between the eyes with the truth.

The truth is that I’ve had a habit of doing the same thing she did. I’ve gossiped about other people, I’ve shared my opinions of others with people in my community, without having any idea of whether they have relationships with the individuals I’ve disparaged. I’m sure it’s never left a good impression, and it’s certainly worked to make me look untrustworthy in others’ eyes. It’s a behavior that I was once unconscious about, until I wasn’t. I’ve been making an effort to be more aware when I’m about to open my mouth. What I know is when I disparage another, it’s due to my own deep insecurities and lack of self-esteem.

In Judaism, there is a prohibition against a behavior called lashon hara, which translates to “bad talk,” and it means that it is forbidden in the Torah to speak negatively about someone else, even if it is true. I learned about it years ago, but realized that I haven’t been very good at observing it. Not by a long shot.

That woman hit the nerve that triggered my response. She was a mirror. I’ve been looking in mirrors intensely for the last year or so in my recovery work. I sit in meetings every day, and have to look at why the person who’s sharing is making me feel angry, impatient, judgy, you fill in the blanks, because there are plenty. There are times when things make me so uncomfortable that I want to take control, and make it stop, when it’s really none of my business. Letting go of control is so hard for me at times. What do I learn from the people who push those buttons, who trigger me so intensely? Those people are my best teachers. They hold up a mirror so I can look at myself and get honest, if I’m paying attention. As uncomfortable as those moments can be, they’re one of the greatest gifts I receive in working my program. I am grateful and humbled for the awareness. This is the beginning of recovery. Arriving at recovery would be ceasing the behaviors altogether.

This week, I’m headed to my dentist’s office to apologize to the assistant, take responsibility for my actions, and pay that bill.

Learning to take responsibility for my reactions to other people is an opportunity for growth, and a reminder that I can’t control anything outside of my own actions and reactions. The only one I can fix is me.  

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My 12 Step group uses this version of the serenity prayer at the close of every meeting:

God grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change. The courage to change the one I can. And the wisdom to know that one is me.

I say it every day, at least once a day. It always helps.

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