Just Say No

I don’t know what it is about Nancy Reagan, she just makes me laugh. The picture above makes me laugh.

I was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to have the opportunity to play Nancy Reagan at an improv show some years back. Let’s just say she wore the role better than me. I did my best to be demure and outspoken against drug use. I most associate Nancy with the phrase that was taught to me during my middle school D.A.R.E. unit. Just say no. No to what? To drugs, of course.

Saying no is not something I’ve ever been good at. And yet saying no is characterizing this moment of my life.

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Improvisers learn to say “yes, and” during improv scenes. This does not mean they agree or even like the piece of content that was established, it just means that they acknowledge and build off of what has happened. Learning to say “yes, and” is extremely difficult. It is also important. Both in improv scenes and in moving through reality. Acknowledging what is there and then moving forward matters.

The kind of no that characterizes my reality right now isn’t really in opposition with how I think about “yes, and.” Right now I’m learning to acknowledge what is here in powerful ways. That includes some of the emotions and anxiety that have characterized almost all of my life. I’m learning to move forward with those things in ways that don’t minimize or repress them. I’m doing my best not to hide from, push down, or run away from some of what is scary inside of me. Part of doing this necessary work, for me, is learning to say no to certain things. To lots of things. To almost everything right now.

I put so much energy into trying to please people. Trying to give them what I think they want. I avoid speaking up when I’m hurt, angry, or upset. I suspect I learned this at a very young age as I tried to cope with the unstable and dangerous terrain of my childhood. It is true this dimension of my character has been important as I’ve moved through the world. Being other-orientated and attuned to the needs of other people has served me as a teacher and in my relationships. I’ve spent myself wildly in my jobs, in my relationships, and in service to others. What often happens, though, is that I reach some sort of breaking point and then, unable or unwilling to enter into conflict with people I care about, I’ll try to pretend everything is okay, frustrate the other person, and then some sort of breakdown or rupture occurs. In trying to please them, I often can’t please them.

A breakdown or rupture is occurring right now. I can’t say for sure why. Spending myself wildly at work, giving myself to my family, trying to keep up with the world around me while not expressing what I actually feel. Suddenly, I find myself on stable and safe terrain and, instead of enjoying it, I’m flooded with feelings I suspect I couldn’t handle as I clawed my way to get here. My experience of the world right now is scary, new, and a lot. I think it needs to be.

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I’ve had to say no to a number of things this fall. Work things. Family things. Even things that I do for myself. I’ve hit a wall where I can’t keep saying yes.

Saying no has led to important, intimate conversations with people. Even at work. Say what you want about me, I guess, I can be vulnerable and honest about things. I’m being that way right now.

I’m worried about letting people down. My wife, my sons, my students, my colleagues, my friends, even if I’m honest, the Creator of the Universe. Still, all of these people (and deities) have seemed compassionate and understanding. Well, most of them. The ones that matter, anyway. I just can’t give what I’ve given so freely my whole life. I can’t keep spending wildly anymore.

I’m moving through this moment slowly. I have faith in another moment around the corner. Some light in the darkness. But I need to go through what I’m going through right now in order to get there. No more pretending away, no more repressing, no more running from what scares me. Just saying no to those things, Nancy, is much harder than turning down a joint.

So it is a heavy moment. But, even in a heavy moment, I can laugh at a picture of Nancy Reagan. I hope you can laugh too. Laughter is important. A bit of relief.