Every time I saw him at a 12-step meeting, the guy was wearing mascara — and sunglasses, earrings, a graphic T-shirt, some sort of hat. His lip was pierced. He often posted half or fully naked pics of himself on Facebook.
And when Mascara Man would share in the rooms, he’d usually raise his voice and pound the table once or twice.
Oy.
All of us in recovery run across one or two fellow recovering addicts and alcoholics who, well, rub us the wrong way.
There’s the guy who tells us we’re gonna die if we don’t work the steps.
The woman who takes all the treats/snacks home with her after every meeting, every single time.
The guy who says beautiful things about living spiritual principles during the meeting — and hits on all the newcomer women afterward.
The woman who hooks up with man after man after man after man, and always shares that she never can seem to find any serenity.
The guy who relapses and steals a recovering addict’s wallet in the process.
We’re told again and again to love our fellow recovering addicts, to show patience, acceptance and compassion – but sometimes, it’s just so hard.
So what to do about Mascara Man. Well, I’d been pretty self-absorbed and judgmental most of my life and it was going to take work to turn that around.
So, one small step: I started forcing myself to seek out Mascara Man at every meeting and hug him.
Several months later, Mascara Man relapsed, but he came back to recovery and moved in with a mutual friend.
Now, I delivered hugs and kind words to Mascara Man at meetings and in his apartment. Never offered him any advice or guidance, just hugs and kind words.
Eventually, Mascara Man took off the mascara and turned down his volume, a little, at any rate. But I still, for the most part, steered clear of No More Mascara Man.
About a month later, he asked our mutual friend for my phone number.
What the…? Uh oh.
The next time I saw Mascara Man, he — voice shaking, hands twitching — asked me to be his sponsor.
Shit.
I blanched, smiled and thanked him for asking me, and I told him I’d have to ask my sponsor.
But I already knew what my sponsor was going to say.
“Hey John,” I said to my sponsor, “(Mascara Man) wants me to be his sponsor.”
“What did you tell him?” he asked.
“That I’d have to ask you.”
My sponsor laughed.
“You already know what you’re gonna do. You already know the answer.”
Shit!
My sponsor knew what I was just starting to realize. Mascara Man wasn’t the problem; I was.
* * *
I had to take a step back and really look at this: Why did Mascara Man bug me?
Why did all his attention seeking get under my skin? There’s a cliché in recovery – You spot it, you got it.
Ya think Brad About You ever sought attention?
It wasn’t enough for me to be loud and obnoxious in bars and restaurants, I had to do it on the radio, in a newspaper column. I said yes to almost every event-hosting request that came along so I could get MORE SPOTLIGHT!
I absolutely used attention to fill a spiritual void inside me, to try to quiet that voice that always told me that I wasn’t good enough, that I was less than.
So when I see attention-seeking in someone else, it brings up my old shame, and I have a bad reaction. That can come out as judgment or hate. And all it really is is self-loathing.
Time for me to knock it off. I have to stop putting my shame out as disdain for someone else.
And while I’m at it, I need to stop judging others, or at least start to put myself in their shoes.
That guy who says we’re gonna die if we don’t work steps? Maybe he’s full of fear because a friend just died from addiction.
The woman who always takes home the snacks after meetings? Maybe she’s hungry, and she might have hungry kids at home.
The guy who’s hitting on newcomers could be looking for something, anything, to fill that spiritual hole that he used to fill with drugs and alcohol. Just like I do with food and binge TV watching and, still, to a lesser extent, attention.
Mascara Man started working steps with me, calling often, and we built a great trusting relationship — and we eventually, because I jumped around between fellowships, parted ways.
But I do know that he is now a loving husband and a loving father, to a beautiful girl. He and his wife, both active in church, are expecting another baby soon.
And he is soooooooooo much more mellow and at peace – and doesn’t wear mascara, around me, anyway.
That’s all well and good, and I’m very happy for him and his new family. And I love him more than he knows.
I’m also happy that the guy who really needed to change – me – has in fact become more accepting and loving.
Now I’m among the first guys to greet the newcomer dude wearing makeup and a crazy T-shirt.
Too, I have to keep in mind something that my sponsor’s sponsor once said:
“The hardest people to love in recovery are the ones who need love the most.”
Recent Comments