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The other day, somebody told me I did an awesome job on something… and I cringed. Like, a guttural “Oh, no!” feeling came over me.
Those don’t last long any more, because I have gotten much better at accepting compliments. I still have a weird uncomfortable feeling every time I get one, though.
And yet, I want them. Ask me if I’d like to receive 25 compliments this week, and the answer is yes. And why stop at 25 this week? Let’s do 25 per day, okay?
But then the compliments arrive and I try to bat them away because they make my skin crawl. What a bizarre thing.
Why do I bristle at compliments? I’ve asked myself that many times, and I think the reason why is pretty simple: I think it’s because deep down, I’m so conditioned to think that I am not worthy of praise that I still can’t believe when it actually happens.
Let me explain. I spent about 10 years of my life spiraling out of control into addiction. I knew as early as 2000 or so that I really struggled to just do one of anything that was good. I hadn’t heard the phrase “1 is too many, 1,000 is never enough” yet but I was starting to understand that concept deep in my soul.
I felt ashamed of that in 2000, and didn’t tell anybody. Then it got worse basically every day till I went to rehab. And by 2005, things were really bleak. I was hiding, stealing, lying, abusing pills and booze, driving when I shouldn’t have been and coming up with b******t excuses and rationalizations for all of my bad behaviors.
Most people didn’t know how bad it was. But I did. I felt like a failure deep down, and I kept making goals for myself that I couldn’t live up to. I started out telling myself I would only drink on weekends, then I threw in holidays and weekends, and then I started to include Thursday as a weekend day. Then, once I was drinking or drugging every day, I would set times for myself—no booze “until it’s dark out,” then “not till dinner time,” then “not till 5 p.m. because some people eat dinner then.” It went on and on and on.
The whole thing added up to an endless string of goals that I was failing to achieve. Not only that, but to chase those goals, I had to live a fake life, full of lies and half-truths. It’s one thing to tell yourself you’re going to go for a run and then not do it. It’s another to tell your spouse you’re running to the grocery store but you go to the bar instead for one beer, which becomes four beers and two shots and then some drunk driving on the way home. It’s a more epic fail than skipping a jog—the kind of epic fail that punctures a hole in whatever self-esteem is left in the tank.
I think I’ve gotten a little better over the years, especially now that I am not trying desperately every day to not get wasted… and then getting wasted anyway. That is a big help!
And when it come to accepting compliments, I learned the most important thing when somebody says something nice: Just say “thank you” like you mean it. I don’t need to say, “Well, you did a great job, too” just to downplay anything. I do say that sometimes. But I often start by smiling and expressing appreciation for the kind words.
So yeah, I am doing a phenomenal job. Just terrific work by me…. okay, Im exaggerating. I wanted to see how it felt to compliment myself, and I didn’t love that, either!
ALCOHOLIC/ADDICT JOKE OF THE DAY
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke.
OVERHEARD IN A BAR:
“My mother lived to be 98 and never needed glasses.”
“She reached 98 and never needed glasses?”
“Nope. She drank right out of the bottle.”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, May 2001, Frank C. from Bronxville, New York)
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