I called myself out

I was taking a walk on the beach the other evening, and I saw someone I knew. We made some small talk and found out we live close to each other. She said she watches the sunset from this beach every evening and was surprised this was the first time she saw me.

I told her that I typically wake up super early and take my daily walk in the morning, not the evening, but this day was a fluke.

We talked a bit more and went our separate ways.

As I walked away, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had said:

I typically wake up super early and take my daily walk in the morning, not the evening.

Why had I said that?
Why did I feel it was important during this brief encounter that she know how early I wake up in the mornings and go for my walks?

Then, I realized why.
And my initial thought was, Molly, you are such an asshole.

You see, I've always been a morning person, and my addiction to alcohol made it hard to enjoy this aspect of myself. Being able to enjoy the early mornings is one of my favorite things about being sober.

The woman I saw on the beach is a drinker, and she’s always reminded me of myself back when I drank—putting alcohol first and not being interested in friendships with sober people.

Telling her how early I wake up in the mornings was a way of letting her know how “good” I am.
How “whole” I am.
How “dignified” I am.
How I managed to stop drinking, and now I get to enjoy my mornings and aren’t I the best.

And she’s probably too hungover to wake up early, which is why she watches the sunset and not the sunrise, which obviously makes me a better person than her. Game over: I win.

Of course, this is all bullshit. For all I know, she may not even drink anymore and has loads of sober friends. Plus, I am no more “good” or “whole” or “dignified” now than I was when I was drinking, nor am I a better person than she is, whether she drinks or not or has sober friends or not. My brain likes to tell me all sorts of things that aren’t true.

I thought that understanding and admitting all this was a pretty baller move, and I was feeling good about calling out my bullshit.

But you know what’s even more baller?

Loving, having compassion for, and accepting that asshole part of myself.

Ouch.

Radical acceptance in my face.

What many of us think growth sounds like but is actually self-deprecation:
Molly, you’re so cool for admitting what an asshole you are.

What radical love and acceptance sounds like:
Molly, sweetheart, I love you no matter what. That thing you said—I saw what you were doing there, my love. Quitting drinking was hard, and you are really proud of yourself for doing that. It makes sense that you want others to be proud of you, too. You want to be seen and understood. Any judgments you have or feelings of superiority are so perfectly human. You’re just so cute in all your human imperfections, and nothing you do will make me stop loving you.

The work isn’t calling yourself an asshole. The work is loving that asshole.

We all have an inner asshole. Can you find radical love and acceptance for yours? Talk to me in the Facebook group using #Radical, and let’s get our imperfection on.

With love,

Molly