As I lay there sprawled out on my back half-way down the bowling alley
with my arms flailing every which way, wishing I could be anywhere else but here, I asked myself these questions:
1. How in the world did I get here?
2. Who saw my “graceful descent”?
3. And how can I possibly get up off this slippery, surface?
With hesitation, I humbly turned my head in the direction of my fellow bowlers to discover the answers.
Question 1: “How did I get here?” I arrived at this moment in time as a result of my size 7 foot donned in the ever-fashionable red, black and gray bowling slippers that subtly crossed the insidious black foul line on the floor of the bowling lane. I gracefully, as my friends assured me, descended onto the slippery surface and skidded down to the middle of the bowling alley.
Question 2: “Who saw my tumble?” My hope was no one, of course. Dreadfully, to my dismay, Jerry, Melinda, and John, my fellow bowling friends, were all witnesses to my fall from grace, as well as the rest of the late night Rock ‘n Roll bowlers present that evening.
And lastly Question 3: “How can I get off of this oily surface?” Now that was definitely a problem. I truly felt like a wet fish on linoleum tiled floor, flopping uncontrollably, but making absolutely no progress in moving toward safety. So many thoughts and strategies were firing through my mind, but none of them could be carried out in this flailing body. The evil floor would not allow me. The only resolve was to use my fanny to “skooch” my way to dry land. Essentially, my rump became my feet. The only image that comes to mind to describe this humiliating event is a turtle involuntarily turned on his back with no where to go. Fortunately, my destiny ended more successfully than the poor turtle’s.
So you may be asking yourself, how can being sprawled out on an oily bowling alley be a life changer? Literally falling from grace in a public establishment flooded with cigarette butts and stiff cotton camp shirts in color combinations of sea green and purple, seems to be of little life significance. However, that rainy, humid July night was definitely one of significance for me, filled with an incredible release from captivity and an obvious touch of humor for a woman who had struggled with perfectionism her entire life.
The captivity in perfectionism began in my childhood. There was tremendous pressure – both covert and overt – in my home to be beautiful and perfect. Some aspects of me completely shut down as a result of this mantra being played over in my mind. Growing up I would have a tendency to not take risks because I was afraid that I may fail and thus, not uphold the slogan for my life – beautiful and perfect. Consequently, I led a very sheltered life during my childhood for fear of not being able to perform perfectly and I became overly cautious and anxious as an adult.
Throughout my adult life, there were times when I actually stirred up the courage to step out of my shell. However, I would be so highly critical of my performance and would spend so much time evaluating and picking myself apart that I destroyed any joy in the moment. I was definitely enslaved to the message – beautiful and perfect – and didn’t give myself much grace and patience when I did step out of the box to give life a try.
I was also afraid of being found out by others that I wasn’t beautiful and perfect. Therefore, I had erected towering barriers around myself and my heart, out of fear that once someone found out the truth about me, that I wasn’t beautiful and perfect, but actually a broken human being, he or she would leave me. As a result of this fear and potential abandonment, I chose to avoid relationships completely. I became a fairly lonely and disconnected woman. My coping mechanisms of isolation and disconnection kept me from the very relationships that I desperately needed to heal. My healing could only begin when I could be real, messy and imperfect in the presence of others.
Eventually this sense of isolation and disconnection came to such an overwhelming point that I knew that I needed to eradicate the layers of bricks around my heart or I would spend the rest of my life alone. I knew I needed the fellowship of other people, but I also knew that the paralyzing fear of potential abandonment and judgement from others was harnessing me from a loving community. The only way to overcome this fear was to confront it and do it afraid. I had to step out in faith and expose myself – pimples and all to others.
So of course, I was presented with an opportunity to reveal my true self. On a stormy summer night, as I slowly walked across a graveled parking lot to my car after my small group, Jerry, a regular Wednesday night small group attendee and avid bowler, poked his head out of the sunroof of John’s rust-infested, chronically coughing truck and inquired in my direction, “Do you wanna go bowling?
Thoughts shot through my head like a Fourth of July fireworks grand finale:
Bowling? But what about those disease-ridden shoes?
Bowling? I don’t have any socks with me to wear to protect me from those shoes.
Bowling? Gosh, it’s been years, can I actually still play?
Bowling? Won’t I look stupid?
Bowling? Could I hurt myself?
Bowling at midnight? Won’t that interrupt my morning routine?
Finally I put a stop to all these chaotic thoughts, choosing to see this as an opportunity to step out in faith, as I had been contemplating and I agreed to join Jerry, John, and Melinda in two games of late night Rock ‘n Roll bowling. However, I was unaware bowling alleys had oily, slick surfaces beyond the black foul line that can cause one to fall to the point of humiliation. Honestly, I don’t know if I would have gone if I had any knowledge of there being even the slightest possibility of falling beyond that black line and humiliating myself.
I went bowling that night, in spite of my fear. I wasn’t perfect that night. I wasn’t beautiful and graceful. I was me and I was received, accepted and embraced by others. I was no longer alone. This was the beginning of being released from the enslavement of perfectionism.
It may seem counterintuitive, but to overcome my perfectionism and my fear of abandonment, being placed in a position of imperfection and receiving grace was what I needed most. I received grace lying in the middle of that bowling alley with my appendages flailing every which way. That grace came through loving people who I had so terribly feared, who poured out compassion rather than judgement. They loved this overturned turtle, in spite of herself. They didn’t leave me, despite my unsightly fall. In fact, they embraced me more because I was real. I was human. I was imperfect. They could relate to this broken, overturned turtle.
This night of Rock ‘n Roll bowling was the beginning of many more episodes of me stepping out of my comfort zone and sharing my life and heart with others. I am no longer on my shell flailing, but I have turned over and I have learned to take off my shell, with grace, truth and time.
Even today, as I share this Rock ‘n Roll bowling story with others, I always tell it with such a deep belly-aching laugh. This laughter brings such a release to me, as I retell one of my many moments of imperfection. With each retelling, I am being released of the captivity of perfectionism. I am learning to laugh at myself. I am learning to expose my brokenness to others and to accept whatever reactions that others may have towards me. I am learning that whether I will be accepted or not from the exposure of my weaknesses, I will be OK. I will be protected. I will more than survive. I will walk victoriously or in this case, bowl victoriously!
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