Originally published in ESSAY, December 2022

How lightheartedness and a little perspective can turn self-pity into self-awareness.

A few days ago, one of my friends came up to me with good news. “I have a boyfriend!” she said. I was so happy for her. Then it struck me—I was (and still am) the only single girl among my various groups of friends.

So, into action—3, 2, 1, go! First, self-pity: “Nobody wants me. I’m too fat, too ugly, too stupid. I’ll forever be alone,” and so on. Then, resentment: “Why can’t I have what I want or what I think I need? I’m praying, I’m surrendering, attending meetings, doing my Step work! Why me?” I actually began to cry on my way home. Then I realized these were just crocodile tears. In my own silly, selfish, egomaniacal way, I was enjoying these pitiful emotions. And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to… ME, King Baby!

The next morning, I sent a message to my sponsor, sharing everything that had happened and how I was feeling about it. I was worried that I might relapse because those kinds of emotions have led me to fantasizing, even if I don’t act out. Then I thought, Gosh, if I feel this low just thinking of my friend’s good news, what would I be like if a real tragedy occurred? What if my grandmother died? I love my grandmother so much! I was deeply upset just at the thought. And knowing me so well, my sponsor suggested, “Well, push her down the stairs, and let’s start the process of getting over it today.”

Instead of crying, I ended up laughing the rest of the morning. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I love the irony and sarcasm of recovery humor, and I especially admire those who can laugh at themselves. Laughing at my own skewed thinking really helps me.

Another example: One of the people on my Fourth Step list is a boy from kindergarten. He used to spit his cherry pits onto my plate because I was always the last one eating—the only one still with a plate. I was mad at him for his behavior. Even now, twenty-five years later, I still get mad whenever I think of it. My sponsor said, “Right. Next time you see him, I want you to run him over with your car and yell, ‘You shouldn’t spit cherry pits onto other people’s plates!’ Then drive away and leave it all behind. Or… you could let it go and forgive him now. Whichever.”

Irony, humor, laughing at it—not taking myself too seriously—is a great tool to disarm the tension, the negativity, the dis-ease. It always cheers me up to read in the AA Big Book: “But we aren’t a glum lot…we think cheerfulness and laughter make for usefulness…why shouldn’t we laugh?” (AA, 132).