Eff You and the Horse You Rode in On

Or Don't Tell ME What To Do

The other night, I drove my two friends home from a meeting. As I went to make a left onto my friend's street, a car coming the other way randomly stopped in the middle of the road, even though we weren't at an intersection and there was no stop sign. The driver waved to us to make the left turn in front of him. A nice gesture, right? Um, not to us. You should have heard the string of curses coming out of our mouths: "What the f*ck, man?" "Douche!" "Just drive, d*ckhead."  

I took the left because otherwise, we'd be in an awkward stand-off, but as I turned, we all shook our heads in disappointment. Why did the driver feel the need to tell us what to do? If he had just kept driving, we could have easily made the left turn after he passed. In fact, what he did was dangerous because a car behind him might think he was stopped and gone around him, potentially causing an accident. 

Just follow the rules of the road, man. But in retrospect, our reaction seemed a little extreme. Why did this seemingly kind but albeit dangerous act trigger such an angry outburst from three normally sane* middle-aged moms? Well, it's because …

NO ONE LIKES BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO! 

This adage holds particularly true for me. 

I don't like writing prompts. Don't tell me what to write about!  

I don't like people ordering for me at restaurants. Don't tell me what to eat!

And I certainly don't like to be told to "relax!" (Just ask my husband!) Don't try to regulate my emotions! 

Specifically, there is something about that little wave drivers do with a pinched face to tell you to go ahead that really irks me. It feels condescending like they are saying: "You obviously don't know how to drive, so I'll tell you what to do." That little wave makes me want to punch them in the face. 

I recognize that this over-the-top negative reaction may be a defect of mine. Nobody likes to be told what to do, but maybe I'm a little … extra. 

This is why I'm so grateful for one of the basic concepts behind the 12-step program that got me sober. In my recovery program, people do not tell me what to do. Instead, they "share their experience, strength, and hope" so that I may follow in their footsteps or take a different path if their experience ended in disaster.

When I first entered the church basement rooms, a snotty sobbing mess, the women who gathered around me didn't demand, "You must go to this Beginners meeting. You must find a sponsor." If they did, I would have run out the door. Instead, they said, "Here's the meeting I went to that helped me. I can meet you there." In early recovery, when I shared a fear about staying sober on a family vacation, my sponsor told me a story about a trip she took to Ireland and how she was able to keep out of the pub. (FYI - The solution is to find a meeting no matter where you are.)  

First of all, as a lover of all personal stories, this practice of sharing your experience is particularly effective for me. If you're willing to be vulnerable, to tell me how screwed up you are/were, I will listen and learn. In addition, what you say will have more impact on me because you have been in the same position as me. 

As it says in the Big Book (the tome of our 12-step program), "We are like the passengers of a great liner the moment after rescue … The feeling of having shared in a common peril is one element in the powerful cement which binds us."

Once, in a writing class, I got feedback on a sentence that said something like: "Even when I didn't want to drink, I poured myself a vodka cranberry." A classmate said, "I don't understand this. If you didn't want to, then why did you?" I nodded and thought, well, this piece of writing isn't for you then. This is for the person who totally gets not wanting to pick a drink, promising yourself you weren't going to do it, knowing it's the last thing you should do, and still doing it anyway.

I will listen to someone who understands what I’m struggling with, but if you’ve never been in my shoes, please keep your opinions to yourself.  

The other day, my sponsor was explaining her plan to fit more meetings into her busy schedule. "I can no longer go to Tuesday at Noon, but I can switch that with Thursday at 7 p.m.," she mused. Her point came through to me loud and clear. If she had said to me, "You should attend more meetings even though your schedule is busy," I would have thought, “f*ck you and the horse you rode in on." But she didn't. She told me her plan, which made me think about my plan. 

Something about the phrase "You should …" closes my ears. But the "Here's what I did … " keeps them open. I don't want to be told what to do, but I'm willing to learn from your experience. It's a subtle line, but it's what works for me. 

As I said, I'm grateful to be in a recovery program that adopts this practice. However, it is certainly a practice that could be embraced by all, not just alcoholics. Often, when we talk about our problems, we're not seeking advice. We just want to be heard. 

My friend recently shared with me that she had dinner with a colleague, in which they both discussed their struggles with a child who suffers from anxiety. My friend will talk about this issue with anyone. But her colleague had never discussed it openly with another person. She was so relieved and grateful to talk about her issues and listen to someone else's similar experience. Neither was telling the other what to do but sharing their experiences.

How about you? Have you ever been irked by unsolicited advice? Or found solace in someone's shared experience? Share your story in the comments.

As for me, I’m going to try to tone down my over-the-top negative reaction to that little wave drivers do. Maybe there is a legitimate reason they are telling me to go ahead, but I wish they would just follow the rules of the road.

*I mean "sane" for three perimenopausal women whose kids are in constant danger due to gun violence and whose reproductive rights are getting slowly chipped away.