Unexpected Inspiration

What’s the first thing you think of when you hear “Alcoholics Anonymous”? Maybe it’s the classic introduction, “Hi, my name is X, and I’m an alcoholic.” Maybe you think about the 12 steps. Maybe you could even recite one or two. Before yesterday, that was about all the knowledge I had about it, too.  

            You know those assignments you get in classes that you start dreading the moment they are mentioned? The ones you can’t find the purpose of and that you feel like are a waste of your oh-so-precious time? Well, that’s how I went into this AA meeting feeling. I had been assigned to attend a meeting for my Abnormal Psychology (the study of mental disorders) class. Obviously I knew that AA was a great program and respected it, but I felt no need to go and experience it for myself. Plus, I hated the idea of observing something of that nature in the first place. "They aren’t animals in a zoo to be observed and analyzed,” I thought to myself, “what right do I have to encroach on their privacy and personal struggle?” On top of the doubts I had already, the meeting ended up being in a horrible part of town. I’m the first to admit that I am a scaredy cat; if I don't feel safe I ain’t doin’ it 99.9% of the time. This time, however, the nerd in me prevailed over the wimp and my friend and I braved the walk into the meeting.

            What I saw and heard in the hour and a half I spent in that meeting was nothing short of inspiring and uplifting. There were men and women of all ages, colors, shapes, and sizes in that room and the only thing that connected them to each other was the dark cloud of alcohol addiction they fought every single day. And yet, despite this less than sunny connection, the heaviest emotion in the room was caring. That sounds mushy, I know, but I assure you there were plenty of manly bikers and grown, serious looking men and women in the room. It wasn’t a bunch of weak, soft people that most people picture when they think of group therapy. There were people who had been sober for a day and people who had been sober for 35 years and every amount of time in between. The long-sober members were there primarily as a source of inspiration and support for the newer members and that alone was magical to me. So many times I feel too busy to help even my best friends with the simplest of things, and yet here were these people who were perfect strangers outside of that room coming week after week to meetings to help each other live a better life. I was continually surprised at the information they shared. God and Christianity permeated the conversation. Everyone in the room was a comedian and laughter was not only accepted but also encouraged. Most of all, everyone very obviously cared about everyone else in that room and believed in the power of the program he or she was a part of. How many situations are you in daily that you can say that about? My answer is far too few.

            Attending this AA meeting was the single most impactful learning experience I’ve had this semester. Not only did I learn about what AA really is and how great of a program it is, but I also was re-affirmed in my choice of career path. Even though I’m not sure how I’m going to do it exactly, I know I want to help people through tough situations with therapy/counseling. Sometimes I lose sight of that desire in the midst of worry and doubt, but every time that happens I have an experience like I did yesterday that reminds me that I’m in the right place. If you ever get the chance to go to anything like what I went to, take it. You may feel uncomfortable at first, but I promise it will give you insight and empathy into what anyone you pass on the street could be going through and will give you faith that people will to extraordinary lengths to help each oth

Conversation Partner- 2

            Before break, I had my second meeting with Monica. Despite my efforts to begin the meeting speaking in English, she quickly began speaking in all Spanish. For whatever reason (maybe it was the 57493058340 tests and papers I had due that week and my brain had just stopped working) my Spanish speaking abilities were horrible that day. I could barely think of how to say the simplest things; it was one of the more frustrating experiences of my life. Again, this feeling gave me insight to how Monica must feel all the time. I honestly don’t blame her at all for taking her time with me to speak in Spanish. She was beyond patient with all my mistakes and errors; I’m fairly positive I made next to no sense throughout our entire meeting. Somehow, though, I managed to get the point across that I had a Spanish test right after our meeting and she immediately volunteered to help me.

IMPORTANT: We are not the only language that hates grammar! Even while explaining it in Spanish, she had NO idea what the infamously dreaded “subjunctive mood” was until I showed her some examples. Even after, her way of trying to explain it to me was complicated and inconsistent. I imagine the look on my face was similar to the looks on some of our faces the other day in class when we started talking semicolons and dashes. Pure confusion.

The above notice was a bit dramatic. I like grammar as much as the next good Honors kid, but when it comes to the names of the parts of a sentence or trying to explain it to someone else, I’m lost. In my personal opinion, proper grammar shouldn’t even really be a problem (I say as I’m making countless grammar errors). But that's a different blog entirely.

Other than the grammar struggle, we mainly just kept getting to know each other for the rest of the meeting. I got to witness her trying Chik-Fil-A for the first time; it was so, so beautiful. Of course she loved it because everyone loves Chik-Fil-A. If you say you don’t, you’re lying. Squidward said he didn’t like Crabby Patties and we all found out that was a fat lie. We all know the truth about you Chik haters too. You’re not fooling anyone. Yet again, I digress.

      In all seriousness, though, I feel lucky to be partnered with Monica. I can tell she looks forward to our meetings and genuinely cares about getting to know me. Although we are from different counties, we haven’t come across any cultural boundaries yet. She dresses just like anyone else would, complains about school, and inquires about my day and my life. If there weren’t a language barrier, I wouldn’t even be able to tell she was from another country. I know this isn’t the case with a lot of other foreigners. I’m lucky to be able to learn about her life and her culture without worrying too much about offending her with my clothing choices or eating habits. I’ve learned in our meetings that she hates Hispanic soap operas that are shown in the US and loves American game shows like jeopardy. I know she is very busy with school and struggles with learning English everyday, but she is still very determined to keep learning. I’m looking forward to our next meeting!

Conversation Partner- 1

          On Tuesday, I met a woman named Monica Bustamante. I say woman because she was 53 years old (she volunteered that information, I didn’t ask). Within our 45 minutes together, we actually learned a lot about each other. Not that I didn't think we would get along, but I would have never imagined it would be as easy as it was with her. She’s a mother of two so she was just FULL of questions for me. She asked about my parents, my siblings, where I grew up, my major, my hobbies, and everything else under the sun. Of course I asked her everything in return. Monica (we’re on a first name basis now, basically we are besties) is from Venezuela and came to America a couple years ago to be with her son, who happens to be a student here at TCU. She also has another son, but he lives in LA so she doesn’t get to see him as often as she’d like. Other than that, we touched on just about everything, but didn’t stay on one topic for too long.

            I know we are supposed to speak in English during these meetings, but once she found out I was a Spanish minor, there was no going back to English. I would have said something, but who am I to tell a grown woman what language to speak in? That's right, no one. From what little English she did speak at the very beginning, I could tell she was still learning a lot. Honestly though, I didn’t mind having the meeting in Spanish, I can always use the practice. I can say that I had a MASSIVE headache afterward—switching languages that quickly for that long was not something I was prepared for. More than once I had to ask her to slow down, her speed plus her thick accent was more than I could handle. After a while, though, we got to a place where we could understand each other really well. She corrected some of my Spanish and I helped her figure out how to say some things in English. I have to admit that there were a few times where I just could not understand what she was saying and just ended up nodding like I knew exactly what was going on. I don’t know if she could tell when I was lost or not, but if she could she was very nice about it. I’m fairly positive more that half of what I said in Spanish made next to no sense. I don’t think it bothered her though; she seemed very relieved to be able to relax and speak her native language. That was perhaps the most enlightening part of my first meeting with her. During our meeting I was extremely worried about making sure I was saying the right things and being polite in another language that I’m far from fluent in. I had to think on my feet and find creative ways to say things I didn’t have the easiest words for. After I left the meeting I was exhausted and anxious to speak in English again. That must be what it’s like for her and all foreigners all the time; I can’t imagine it. She got an hour break with me and took full advantage of it. I can’t say that I blame her. When I go to Spain this summer, I’m sure I’ll do the same thing. For however badly I want to learn Spanish, it’s difficult and tiring. Just trying to speak in Spanish consistently for an hour was a lot to handle, so hats off to Monica and all of the other IEP students who do that every single day.

            I’m excited to meet with Monica again, but I’m also nervous—that's a lot of Spanish. Hopefully I’ll get better every time we meet; we may even try some English this time!

Self-Diagnosis and a Soap Box

Thanks to my Abnormal Psychology class, I have recently learned that I have approximately half of the disorders listed in the DSM-5. For those of you who may not know, abnormal psychology deals with explaining all mental health disorders and the DSM-5 is where you go to diagnose someone with one of these disorders. Many people who go through medical school experience a similar feeling where they believe they have all of the diseases they study so in depth. Most notably, I’ve learned that I am a hoarder and I am delusional.

            First, the realization that I am a hoarder came to me whilst watching an episode of TLC’s “Hoarders” one day in class. On this day in particular, my room was especially messy and I was a tad stressed. By “a tad stressed” I mean I had 3 tests that week and I hadn’t sleep more than 8 collective hours in the past two days. Hoarders keep excessive amounts of useless things, have emotional attachments to these useless things, and eventually have to create pathways through the junk to get around their house. While watching this show, I tried to estimate how many useless coupons I had floating around my room. Most were expired and the rest were for things I have never used in my life, such as oven cleaner (I don’t have an oven) and cat litter (I hate cats). Many had tried to convince me to get rid of these coupons, but I refused for some unknown reason. Also, that morning, in order to get to class, I had to do something resembling parkour to get out of my room. Add all this up and you will surely come to the same conclusion I did- I am a hoarder. Someone should call TLC.

            My second revelation came to me while my professor was defining Delusional disorder for the class. When I was 11, I cried on my birthday because I realized my Hogwarts letter did not come and I had to accept once and for all that Harry Potter was not real. If that's not delusional, I don’t know what is. An example she gave of the delusions of someone with this disorder was the belief in the end of the world because of the Mayan Calendar. In my mind, my delusion and the Mayan one are on the same level of strange. The fact that my delusions stopped there and were limited to that specific incident is irrelevant. I have Delusional disorder and that’s all there is to it.

            While this may be a little dramatic, I actually have found a large amount of common occurrences in the diagnosing criteria of many of the diseases we’ve studied in class. Personally, though, I find that fact comforting rather than alarming. Many people are seriously misinformed about mental health and mental disorders. Just because someone has a mental disorder does not make him or her inhuman or alien. If you ask me, no one is perfectly mentally healthy and everyone needs help at some point in his or her life. I am well aware of the fact that I am not actually a hoarder or delusional, but if I were, I would still be a person. I feel like a lot of people put such an impenetrable stigma on mental illness that they forget that sometimes. My abnormal psychology class has taught me that everyone is mentally ill at some point, be it in a big or small way, and that’s perfectly fine. Being a psychology major, I believe passionately in the power of therapy and the field as a whole. While I know not everyone will share that passion, I hope one day everyone will de-stigmatize mental illness and strive to understand what that means.