Not Taking Myself So Seriously Is a Great Tool

A few days ago one of my dearest friends came up to me with good news. “I have a boyfriend!” she said. I was so happy for her. She really deserves it. I was always asking myself why someone as beautiful, kind and smart as she is wasn’t in a relationship. I even thought that maybe she had some kind of problem, like my sexaholism. Then it struck me that now I was (and still I am) the only single girl amongst my various groups of friends.

So, into action—3,2,1 go, beginning with self-pity: “Nobody wants me. I’m too fat, too ugly, too stupid. I will be forever alone”, and so on. Next, to resentment; and so, “Why can’t I have what I want or what I think I need? I’m praying, I’m surrendering, attending meetings, doing my stepwork! Why me?” I actually began to cry on my way home. And then it hit me that these were crocodile tears. Yes, crocodile tears. In my own silly, selfish, ego-maniacal way, I was enjoying these pitiful emotions. And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to … ME!

The next morning, I sent a message to my sponsor sharing all that had happened and how I was feeling about it. I was worried about a relapse because those kinds of emotions can lead to fantasizing, at the very least. And I thought, “Gosh, if I feel that low, magnifying in my head the consequences of my friend’s good news, what would I be like if a real tragedy occurred like, say, if my grandmother died?” I love my grandmother so much. I was deeply upset just at the thought. “Well, push her down the stairs and let’s start the process of getting over it today,” my sponsor said.
I laughed all morning. It’s 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. Having a laugh at my disease, at my 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 and so the only one still with a plate! I was mad at his behavior! Even now, twenty-five years later, I still get mad whenever I think of it. My sponsor said to me, “Right. Next time you see him, I want you to run him over with your car and yell at him, ‘You shouldn’t spit cherry-pits onto other people’s plates!’ then drive away leaving it all behind. Or you can let it go and forgive him. 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 […] So we think cheerfulness and laughter make for usefulness […] But why shouldn’t we laugh?” (p.132)