#32 Willing to be wrong
and the impossible responsibility to our future selves
Earlier this year we interviewed Elizabeth Gilbert on our podcast, Quitted. Elizabeth, or Liz as those of us (borderline creeps who do not know her personally but completely imagine we do) call her, was coming on to talk about quitting stuff, and in our investigative work preparing for the interview Emily found an old essay Liz had written about the difference between surrendering and quitting—in 2014. When I read it, knowing Liz very well like I do but also absolutely not at all, I told Emily I didn't think Liz would write that same essay today. It was a bit punitive and written in the voice of an all knowing version of herself, and when we eventually read it back to her and asked her about it, my suspicions were confirmed: The Liz of 2022 would not write what the Liz of 2014 had, at least concerning the subject of quitting.
Yesterday morning I woke up to another shitty article written about me. I knew this one was coming because the woman who wrote it tried to get an interview with me for it, and while I had an idea of what it was about (me: terrible, scammer, enabler, problematic apologizer, idiot pretend-woke privileged white girl, victim profiteer, blah blah blah), the knowing never prepares you to read a take-down about yourself that is stuffed with misinformation, that is written by someone thirsty to misunderstand you and assume the absolute worst about you, that you cannot and will not defend.
(Side note: This article came out a day after I posted a 13-minute video on Instagram about misogyny, care work, women taking down women, and why recovery as opposed to mutual aid is not free so it was kind of sweet to have my point proven so quickly (the story is saved to my IG highlights); I’ve also previously addressed being torn apart by journalists wanting to assume the worst in this post, and this one.)
The thing I found so fascinating about this particular article was that because it was published now—three years post-publication of my book—and criticized me as if I am still the version of myself that wrote it between 2018 and 2019, and did not take into account the events that have happened between 2019 and today (a global pandemic, uprising, the emergence of sober curiosity and the explosion of the NA drinks market, the spikes in alcohol addiction and alcohol related deaths, my own personal changes such as my departure from Tempest, or any of the few hundred articles, essays, posts, interviews, podcasts or the like that I have published since QLAW was published/some solely to clarify and update the material like this one, etc.), was that it froze me into an outdated version of myself, of the ideas I once had or the beliefs I once held or words I once chose, and so forth. In my opinion, as the one who knows what my intentions were, who was there in first person experiencing what she writes about from a distance, this woman was wrong, almost totally, about almost everything. But she was right that some of my ideas or choices of words or who I excluded by using the word we were problematic. If I were to write that book today it would be a different book. But I didn’t write it today. I wrote it between four and five years ago. And I stand behind it not despite all that but because of it.
Sometimes I go back to an old book that was extremely important to me in early recovery, and because I am so different now than I was then it hits me differently. For instance, I recently tried to re-read A Return to Love and couldn’t, and not because Marianne Williamson did anything wrong, but because it’s not what I need now. It was what I needed then. In subsequent books Marianne has alluded to her embarrassment of the version of herself who wrote ARTL—of how naive and self-centered and frivolous she was. The thing is though, I needed that naive, self-centered, base version of Marianne when I was trying not to die. That lady spoke to me back then and that version of her, right or wrong, was perfect. Is perfect. The essay Liz wrote in 2014 was something the Liz of 2022 would never, but when I read it in 2014 (which I did because back then I read everything Liz wrote) I needed that specific wisdom she had to share at that specific point in time. I needed her all-knowing self to give me her basically made-up answer spelunked from the depths of her own narrow world view.
It is really seductive to be embarrassed by or try and distance myself from who I once was, or what I once believed, or the work I put out into the world years ago, when I didn’t know any better and I was doing the best I could at the time. Re-purposing The Mantra Project meant reviewing and updating 40 essays I wrote seven years ago. To do that I spent thirty hours with a much younger, much different version of myself and my work, and it took everything in me not to re-write those essays with the wisdom I hold today, not to erase who I was and how I thought and what I believed, to not revise her into a lady with a decade of wisdom more than she had. I didn’t. I cleaned up a few problem areas and some obviously bad writing, added some disclaimers, but otherwise I kept it in the voice and within the belief system of the Holly who wrote it, and I reserved my judgment of her. I even learned from her. She was so positive and certain! She had firm answers! She seemed to know everything.
A lot of people over the years have asked me how I forgave myself for the worst things I’ve done (in active addiction), to myself, to others. I tell them I cannot rewrite history, that it’s a fool’s errand, so why try. I tell them I needed every bit of my past to deliver me to this present, so why change it. I say, if cannot be proud of every single version of myself who was doing the best she could with the tools she had, how can I be proud of this version of myself today? How can I give myself a break now if I can’t give myself a break for who I was back then? How can I be expect to be proud of who I am now if I can’t be proud of the fantastic mess that came before?
In the same way: I don’t assume I’ll agree with what I believe today a decade from now, let alone a week. I am not the final, formed version of myself and part of my work and my practice is a willingness to change my mind, to evolve, to consider different perspectives, to be wrong. In the same way I don’t fault a two year old for not knowing how to tie a shoe, or my thirty year-old self for managing her life with a mammoth amount of bourbon, I try not to fault myself, or others, for being at the stage they are at, or were at; I try and remember that development and growth means going through stages, not skipping them, that everything is built on what came before, which means that everything that comes before matters. Even the worst of it; even the things you wish you did not do, even the versions of yourself you wish you never were.
My wish for myself is that when I’m near my own end that I will have generated a body of work that isn’t perfect, ageless, or exactly reflective of my then existing wisdom. My wish is that what I see is a person who was brave enough to keep going, who wasn’t guided by her fear of being wrong, but her love of where she was at each step of the way.
Ten Things Right Now
Beer for dogs, good fiction, drinking on anti-depressants, not being able to get yourself to the desk, wellness as an exhausting obligation, the joy of chores, psychotropic hedonism vs. pharmacological calvinism.
Can you drink when taking an anti-depressant? Yes and no.
“Wellness puts the onus on the consumer to make up for everything modern society can’t or won’t provide; it extends the illusion of control.” A thought provoking article about how wellness has become yet another form of unpaid work. It also mentions Rina Raphael’s new book, The Gospel of Wellness, which I read an advanced copy of and liked very much.
I just finished reading Elizabeth Strout’s new book, Lucy By The Sea, which I loved because it was so easy to read and didn’t hurt my brain. Currently reading Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano which so far is very good and if you haven’t read Dear Edward, her first book, it was one of the best books I read last year. Also reading Elise Loehnen’s new book (an advance copy as well) about the seven deadly sins and the patriarchy which is fascinating.
“[Dear President Biden:] As one of the architects of the 1994 Crime Bill, you are likely aware that there are millions more people who are trapped under the crushing weight of other federal and state laws that use drugs as an excuse to criminalize poverty and mental health.” An open letter penned by the Coalition of Black Women demanding him to end the war on drugs.
Naltrexone, the opiate antagonist prescribed to treat alcohol addiction, might help long COVID brain fog.
Non-alcoholic beer for dogs and bourbon flavored non-alcoholic Dr. Pepper for humans why
I love how Haley Nahman’s brain works. This article on enjoying the never-ending chore that is chores rang true, and was one of the things I got the most out of Norman Fisher’s book on Zen: the doing it for the sake of doing it, vs. the doing it for gain.
Thinking about psychotropic hedonism vs. pharmacological calvinism thanks to a conversation with Dr. Carl about my own consideration of ADHD meds, which I’ll be talking about at some point
“It feels like I should know or do better, like I should have friendships figured out by now”
I went back to House of Dragons and I’m in.
The recent slaughtering of women in the recovery community speaking their truths and offering lines of hope to so many makes me want to projectile vomit. I feel a deep sense of fear that nudges me to stay quiet, avoid attention -- basically the very reasons I drank. Thank you for speaking up, and vocalizing the misogyny in all of these criticisms (including -- especially -- the article that just came out). I'd be more interested in what that writer is doing to support the recovery community than tearing others down. I imagine that person would feel stronger in their own recovery if they focused on that, too.
Yes to all of this. It’s damn hard to go first. You’re my hero.