I was at an NA meeting tonight and the chair was great, as were the shares. An old-timer had a fantastic, quotable comment. He was talking about when he had four years, went to a convention, and saw someone there he had seen when he first came in to the rooms. They were excited to see each other and he said to him, "I did everything you said--I went to meetings, I was of service, I got a sponsor, and I worked the steps."
The other guy replied to him, "I know."
"You know?? How could you know?"
"Cause you're still here."
This Sunday meeting is one I have yet to share at, interestingly enough. I've been many times, always put my name on the list, and somehow always seem to be there on a night where they don't use the list and allow people to just volunteer instead. Which is fine. I did find myself thinking about what I might share, and my thoughts went to my feelings about being unemployed, about my music, and about how I still have this feeling from time to time that I have to do something totally amazing in order to justify my existence.
The chain follows from my music because I know that I'm really good at it. Maybe it's not stuff that would make millions or get teenagers screaming, but it's damn good. I've put a lot of time and energy in the crafting of my sound. And the beauty of doing it as my art is that I don't have try and move millions of sales units. I can uphold myself to a standard of quality, write music that I like, and do it to please my tastes, not those of the masses or some record company executive.
And yet... I live in this place called 'America' where my culture says that you're not really good at something unless you're making money doing it. And I'm a perfectionist. And I have *ahem* issues with self-esteem. All of those combine into a terrifying force that makes the pursuit of any art just for art's sake a challenge, to say the least.
The path of my low self-esteem starts simple enough. Maybe I feel sorry for myself because more people aren't into my music, ignoring the fact that there are many people out there who make great music and aren't recognized for it. Maybe I beat up on myself a little because I can't produce tracks in some particular genre, forgetting for a moment the wide variety of styles that I CAN produce in. It starts so innocuously, and then *BOOM* I'm questioning the waste of skin I am and feeling guilty for misusing the air I breathe.
Okay, I exaggerate a little. Certainly there are dark days where that is what I'm going through. Thankfully, they continue to be fewer and farther between. Sometimes I just call it my fucked up brain, sometimes I call it my disease. The disease still wants me dead; that's the clue as to why these thoughts are circling. Why would I be feeling down? Because over the past week I've been working hard in my home studio and have busted out three new fantastic tracks, of course. And because they're good, my disease-distorted instincts respond by causing me to feel shitty about myself.
I didn't share this in the meeting, but I'll share it here: I'm fucking great at what I do. I'm a good person and it shows in my actions. It sucks that I've got this shit in my head always telling me the opposite. It sucks that I have to work so hard sometimes just to be who I really am. But this is What Is, and continuing to stay sober, continuing to work the program, gives me the opportunity and tools to fight.
I'm thinking now of a couple years ago when I was exploring the idea of becoming a minister. In all my prayers and seeking guidance, the only concrete message I heard back was that I don't have to prove anything to anyone anymore. The only mission in life that God has ever given me is this: Zach, just be who you are as I have made you.
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