Write a New Ending

DISCLOSURE:  I, the quintessential rule-follower, am about to stray from my pattern of bringing traditional Jewish sources.  This week, I want to highlight a new blog I've discovered:  Momastery (note:  you do not need to be a mom to appreciate this site).  Momastery's blogger is a woman named Glennon Doyle Melton.  She is a recovering bulimic, alcoholic, and drug user, and believe me, she has what to teach us about living with authenticity and showing up despite our imperfections.  And, it just so happens that her message is pretty much perfect (I think) for Elul.  So, hang in there with me, and it will all come together!

My introduction to Momastery was the post, "Rising Strong:  This is My New Ending."  One of the main purposes of this post was to promote Brené Brown's latest book, which I definitely plan to read, but that's not the point.  What is the point is the way Glennon tackles the theme of how we experience "failure"--and how, as adults, we get the chance to rewrite our own stories.  In case you don't want to read the whole post, here is my favorite excerpt:

As I read this, I kept thinking, Yes! Yesyesyesyes.  Not to the cheerleading bit specifically (that actually would have been my worst nightmare), but to the broader theme of receiving the message from the world that we are not worthy, how we carry that message with us into adulthood, and how maybe--no, definitely--it is time to write a new ending to our defining moments of "failure."

From age 6 until college, I never had a best friend.  I had good friends, but no best friend, and what kid doesn't want a best friend?  So, I tried really hard--I did whatever I thought might win someone's allegiance--but at the end of the day, I was always passed over in favor of someone else.  The lesson I extracted from this whole experience was:  There is something wrong with me.  I stopped expecting I would ever have a best friend, and settled on what I considered the next best thing:  having people need me.  If people need you, I reasoned, they keep you around.  And what I knew, in that adolescent brain of mine, was that it was better to be used than ignored.  I remember very clearly how, when I was in my high school biology class, all the "Cool Girls" would suddenly become "friends" with me before every exam.  I knew exactly what they were doing--using me for study help--but I let it happen; in fact, I looked forward to it because in those moments of usefulness I had a taste of what it felt like to be "in."

As an adult, I can look back on that and shake my head and say, That was so ridiculous to let myself be used by girls I didn't even LIKE, but the truth is that even as an adult, I am still vulnerable to this dynamic.  I want people to like me.  But the Core Belief that I've carried around since those childhood rejections is:  People will only like me if I please them and do things for them.  This belief led me straight into anorexia ("Oh, let me just be small and unobjectionable!") and is something that I've had to work very hard to reframe in recovery.

But Glennon gives me an idea.  Why not rewrite the ending to that story?  If I could go back in time and talk to high-school me, here is what I would tell her:

I know it has been hard for you.  I know that.  But you have to hang in there.  One day, you WILL have a best friend.  And in the meantime, know that you are 100% worthy of love and belonging regardless of what you can "do" for other people.  Respect yourself--don't sell yourself just to win someone's approval.  You don't need it.  Not everyone is going to like you, and you're not going to like everyone, and that's okay.  But you don't need to change who you are, or let people use you, just to win friends.  You are awesome,  just as you are.  

The truth is, that's a message I could still use.  And so I am going to carry it with me into the end of Elul as I prepare for the new year--the knowledge that I can rewrite that story and live out a different ending in the present.  From now on, I am going to remind myself of how much I've grown since I was that teenager.  Recovery Headline:  I do not have to buy my worthiness.  I get to be myself--authentically imperfect--and know that I am worthy of connection without changing myself or selling myself out to suit someone else's whims.

I think we all probably have stories like that, stories that we wish we could rewrite...and the thing I learned from Glennon is that in recovery, we CAN.  And there is no better time to do it than right now, at the turning point into a new year.  So:  for what story do you want to write a new ending?  Recognize old narratives that aren't working for you anymore, toss them to the curb, and write a new ending!  You deserve nothing less.

שנה טובה ומתוקה!