"I'm not like you."
and other lies we tell ourselves
The other morning, I went out with my husband and noticed a man sitting on the curb of a grocery store parking lot that was recently re-paved. The Tennessee heat, mixed with fresh asphalt, emitted a toxic smell. I tried not to breathe deeply.
The man on the curb had a white grisly beard and his face was burnt orange from the sun. He sat, unshaded, with the sun beating down. No water nearby. No belongings. No friends. An oversized t-shirt drenched in sweat.
What struck me about this man is that he was the same man that my kids and I drove by on another day a couple of days before, sitting on a different curb with the same muddy, torn jeans, the same grey t-shirt, the same almost smile.
“Does that man need help?” my daughter, Violet, had asked.
I thought for a minute. We were running late, had about 20 minutes to eat dinner and then run back out for extracurriculars. The man looked okay, I told myself. He looked content sitting there, didn’t have a sign asking for help. We didn’t have time anyways. What would we do, stop traffic and get out? Give him what?
“He looks like he is doing okay,” I said continuing to drive, looking his way. We passed and he continued to smile.
Was he really okay? I didn’t have time to think about it.
Yet, here he was again. Sitting there.
My husband and I went to get our expensive coffees and moved from the air-conditioned electric car to the air-conditioned coffee shop. We sat and sipped and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I turned to Matt.
“Honey, there is a man outside…”
My husband looked at me the way he usually does when I’m about to do something he thinks may be questionable. Like the way he looked at me when I wanted to open a recovery house (again) or when I asked if we could bring the unattended children from the park home. This may be illegal, he informed me.
I’m not going to share what happens next in this story because I believe that the best, most true, most impactful actions we can take for the kingdom of God are not those done in the open for all to see. They are the secret, quiet, unseen actions that bring no attention, praise, or acclaim. They do not require marketing strategies or social media posts or even books to put them on blast.
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
Constructing Walls
What makes us distinctly human, and I believe distinctly flawed, is our uncanny ability to walk into a room—or walk into a parking lot—and immediately start creating walls.
Saying: “I am not like you and here is why.”
We construct barriers around ourselves and the “other” to separate ourselves from not being what they are, whether that person is an alcoholic or addict, divorced, promiscuous, a gambler, an over-eater, gossip, or a disheveled man sitting on the curb.
Why do we do this?
“What I am is not what you are and that makes me better, smarter, more successful” –this may be our inner running monologue even if we do not hear it with our ears. Our heart knows it may be playing on repeat.
Many of us also know what it feels like to be sitting on the other side of the sentiment. Hearing all around us:
“You are not like me.”
How often have we been on the other side of the glare where we are sized up? Made to feel different? With no other options than to sit on our literal or figurative curbs? For those of us in addiction recovery, how often have we encountered stigma? Judgment instead of grace?
I see this every Wednesday and every Sunday when I go to our church.
Wednesday is the night for recovery when folks from local treatment centers and recovery homes come to hear a message of hope from a person in recovery. I usually wear a ball cap and my holey jeans and a t-shirt and bring my seltzer water. Rarely do I leave without tearing up from hearing a mighty movement of God. I always feel welcome and a part of. I always feel accepted. Myself.
Sunday is the day when we dress up and I wear eyeliner and we sing, surrounded by folks who are usually dressed up, too. If we are in jeans, they’ve been washed or are appropriately of the dark denim variety. Sometimes I cry, moved by the sermon or worship. Sometimes I feel what I like to call the Holy Spirit move through the room. Usually, I learn something new. But, most times I look around wondering where the people from Wednesday nights are.
Photo by Karl Fredrickson on Unsplash
When trauma symptoms or untreated addiction or mental health challenges control our lives, we may live differently. When we believe we are the “other” and are treated differently, we may act differently, too. Yet, this different is not that different after all.
As a dear friend said to me while sitting down for a cup of coffee:
“We are all in recovery. We need to recognize this fact.”
When we are made to feel like the place for us is over there, not in here; when we have a seat in the parking lot, but not at the table; when we are led to feel separate from and not a part of, I believe we are doing incredible harm not only to ourselves but to our communities.
The truth is when we tell ourselves: “I am not like you” it is a lie.
We are all living, breathing, struggling, human beings that have stories to share with each other that will help to heal and transform the world.
Another lie I think we might need to wrestle with:
“Recovery is for them. Not for me.”
Recovery is for everyone.
This is a weighty statement and I do not say it lightly. This is how much I believe that you and I have much more in common that we do not.
Will you join me in challenging ourselves to see the similarities and not the differences as Recovery Month approaches?
What are some ways that we can break down barriers between each other?
Understand the Impact of Stigma:
We can recognize how societal stigma around addiction and mental health can prevent individuals from seeking help.
We can explore and identify common misconceptions and stereotypes associated with these issues and challenge ourselves to approach everyone with an open mind.
Explore Personal Narratives:
Learn how personal stories and experiences can break down barriers and foster empathy.
Reflect on our own stories and the lies we may be telling ourselves to avoid facing our struggles.
Promote and Celebrate Recovery:
Gain insights into the importance of recovery awareness and education.
Understand the role of community and support systems in recovery and mental, physical, and spiritual well-being.
Encourage Open Dialogue:
Initiate conversations about addiction and mental health recovery in various settings including schools, places of employment, faith communities and yes, parking lots.
Co-create safe and supportive environments for individuals to share their experiences and stories with each other.
Foster Compassion and Empathy:
Cultivate a compassionate mindset towards those struggling with addiction and mental health issues—or any other human issues.
Understand the importance of empathy in supporting recovery and reducing stigma.
Resources for your journey:
SAMHSA’s National Recovery Month Page: Check out this comprehensive information about Recovery Month (which is in September), including events, resources, and toolkits.
Shatterproof: Ending Addiction Stigma is a fabulous campaign from an organization that walks the walk.
Share your story with Circle of Chairs: Submit your story this #RecoveryMonth and help break down walls and reduce stigma.
Join Mobilize Recovery! October 5th, the bus will be stopping in Tennessee at First United Methodist Church in Oak Ridge with featured guest Noah Thompson. You don’t want to miss this live music and community recovery event.
What are some of the lies we tell ourselves to keep us separated?
Comment below or send me an email. I’d love to hear from you.
I have othered, and have been othered. It's not something I want to experience again but I suppose it is part of the human condition. I wish we could have a world where we all accepted and helped each other.
So many of us are in need of healing, and we can all help to create an environment where healing is possible. Thanks for posting and sharing.