I’ve always been able to laugh at myself, which is fortunate because often I bumble through life feeling one part Lucy, two parts Fred.
The other night I excused myself from dinner at a steakhouse to find the ladies room, and then simply couldn’t. I wandered through a well-lit doorway and into a hotel lobby and knew I’d gone too far, but pride pushed me forward and ultimately onto an escalator. I thought how funny it might seem to my dinner companions if they looked through the doorway at that moment. “Oh look, there’s Kristen trying to find the ladies room and taking an escalator ride instead.” It wouldn’t surprise anyone. I am distractible and prone to over-complicating things, only occasionally to comedic effect.
While this is not new, I am able to laugh at myself in a different way lately. I’ve always been self-deprecating, but in a way that rang harshly at times. Now I am kinder to myself.
I am no longer doing things to regret or bury, so maybe I just like myself more. Or maybe this is yet another side-effect of being more comfortable in my own skin, which I’ve heard sober people talk up since Day 1. I feel kinder and gentler and more accepting, not just with others but finally with myself.
Eventually I found a ladies room, though it took so long the waiter had time to refold my napkin and place it on the chair like a tiny teepee. Later I learned I was not alone because two other people from my table had gone on escalator rides too! Another had found the restrooms right around the corner on his first try. “Either that or I did something horrible in the broom closet,” he said and we laughed and laughed.