Yesterday, I went to an NA meeting. I am not addicted to drugs. Drugs have never been my temptation. They scare me way too much. As an impressionable youngster in the 80's I took to heart those "this is your brain on drugs" ads.
This was a requirement for a certification I am working on; it is necessary for my job. My coworker, the only other in the same position in my agency, has had NA meetings on her shared Google calendar for 5 days each week for months now and it was high time to help her get that cleaned up. I was at her office all day yesterday and we found ourselves with a few hours with unscheduled appointments and 5 minutes away from a scheduled meeting so I said, "Let's go and get this over with!"
In a town known for its criminal activity, we pulled up to a sketchy looking building on a sketchy looking street. There was an absence of prominent signage and as we pushed the door open we saw a dimly lit and rundown, empty room. Instantly I recalled every episode of every cop show I've viewed where the police are "clearing" rooms in search of a suspect. Had my coworker not been there, I might've ditched at this point. The bathroom door was stuck and we couldn't enter, and not a single light in the place would turn on. The only thing that signaled we were in the right place was the smell of coffee brewing and a little display of NA brochures.
The sarcasm and attempts at humor are tools I often use to soften opinion or the unpleasant aspects of reality I am abandoning at this point in order to make space for us to appreciate that some addicts allowed other addicts and 2 non-addict strangers to bear witness to the raw and real stories of their struggle. It is no small thing for them to admit that they are unable to stay clean on their own, that their best laid plans and stockpiles of what they accomplished in life were destroyed by their addictions. Once again I was reminded that we are all just bobbing around in a tossing sea, grasping for life preservers. Once again I found myself in complete gratitude for the privilege of listening to someone's story.
If you are going to try to change something about this world (especially under the umbrella of nonprofit work) let me share with you something I have learned. In my experience, there is NOTHING more powerful than connecting people by way of their stories. I believe nothing will change hearts and minds, nothing will break down barriers and form bonds between people, nothing will get people off their seats and into action the way that creating a space where people can honestly share their stories and be heard in a nonjudgmental way can. Since I've started my second career, I have seen this at play in a refugee resettlement agency, a workforce development program, and a domestic violence agency. The real work and change I've witnessed is ALWAYS centered around this. Mission and vision statements and white papers, budgets and reports and databases, campaigns and rewards, rules and regulations - they all have their place but if making space for storytelling is not a priority, then the movement you are building will not have lifeblood coursing through it.
If we identify as Feminists or Christians or something in between, we are probably aware that the worst of our identities happen when we don't allow the truth and heart of individual and collective stores to shape our movement. When we rigidly follow prescribed tenants and silence the voices trying to tell us their stories, we fall into the traps that earn us the more sordid parts of our reputations. In trauma work there is a mantra: "Don't ask 'what's wrong with you?' Instead ask 'what happened to you?'" You are then asking to hear a story instead of an explanation for a label you just slapped on a person. The story will inform you of what is concerning that person most, what they might have to contribute, etc.
We are humans, we are going to get stuff wrong. We are going to hurt each other and draw our lines in the sand. But what could happen if we made this a practice in our lives?
