Mothers & Daughters: The Replay.

When life gives you mishaps, you learn to let go. Sometimes you can fix it. And sometimes you can't.

The live event was fabulous.

Then, a mishap occurred. Here’s what I learned.

I can’t always control Mother Tech or anything else.

If you prefer to skip the essay, scroll past for videos.

The Mothers & Daughters slam was spectacular. Watch the stories and applaud the storytellers.

The Story Slam we create is more than simply a performance. More than an opportunity to strut one’s stuff. The slam is a place to grow. In intentional and not so intentional ways.

The intentional way? To do something new, even if it scares you, and find out that it’s not as scary as you thought. You grow as a writer and a performer. You become part of something greater than yourself.

The unintentional? When things go wrong, an opportunity is created for serious growth. We can grow as a community and as individuals. I grew last night and today, because things went wrong. I had no control of the first thing. The second thing that went wrong required an apology that may not be accepted. Remains to be seen.

There’s no full recording of the show. That’s the second time this has happened.

The first time was a couple of months ago. I forgot to hit “record.” An oversight. I was devastated, but it yielded positive change. The meeting is set to start recording the minute I enter the room. Now, we record the stories in advance of the live performance in case something goes wrong. We do that before each show.

A tech glitch on Saturday froze my computer. I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t see the Zoom room, though I could hear everyone . I was mortified to lose control over the situation in front of a room full of storytellers and audience members who were witnessing my distress and my rising shame. The only one it seemed to be a big deal for was me.

I switched to my laptop and came back to the room.

Due to the glitch, I was reminded of a crucial lesson I learned in my 12-step work.

The lesson’s a big one. This is it: most things are beyond my control.

I grew up with a perfectionist gene; I come by it naturally. My parents were perfectionists, too. Thinking I have control over everything is a survival mechanism and a false core belief.

There’s value in my perfectionism when I apply it to my design work. That job requires attention to detail.

When things don’t go perfectly, I descend to the flip-side of my perfectionism. Failure Black or white. No grace given. Success or failure.

Instead of “Oops, we had a technical glitch, let’s move on,” everything felt ruined.

That was before I knew we didn’t have a recording because of the crash.

My Zoom co-host, Mel Moseley, burst through my mounting shame response to engage the audience to get me to pause and take a breath. To recognize that I was among friends. Everything was okay. It was beyond my control. The audience members unmuted their mics to encourage me to let it go.

I’m a recovering codependent and control freak. When I’m steeped in my codependence, I have a need to take care of others, to overdo the care and service I give, to do things for free because I want to be loved, to want everyone around me to be happy all the time. It’s an affliction.

I forget that I’m allowed to have flaws and make mistakes. I’m allowed to be human.

I’m not beating myself up today for that. I’m happy to come to this realization. I’m grateful for Mel’s intervention in the moment when I wanted to disappear.

I thought I had my control issues and codependent behaviors licked. I do 12-step work, after all. But they’re hard habits to break; it takes mindfulness, practice, prayer, and meetings. I want to do this healing work for the rest of my life. Because my life depends on it.

When I discovered that we had no recording, I flew into survival mode, fight or flight.

I came up with an action plan to mitigate the disaster. I’d record a new intro, introduce each storyteller. I’d do the intermission patter. I’d thank our sponsors. I’d add my comments on value and supporting the slam. All of that was lost, so it had to be my job to fix it. We were going to produce a patchwork reel.

Of course, I’d be transparent about what happened.

I can’t recreate what happened at the show. Even if we did the show again, it would be completely different.

I received love and support from the people in the room on Saturday. A bunch of us stayed after the event ended. We chatted about control, about the world, about life. That’s the community I envision. It’s connection.

When I woke up this morning, I abandoned my great idea. Jeanne and I got to work, branding and uploading the pre-recorded videos. I let it be.

I have to take better care of myself in order to show up for this project to serve it well. I need to relax. I may need to do less of some things and more of others.

I need to trust the evolution of this work. I need to remember we’re new. A start-up. I want to stay fresh and open to discovering what works and what doesn’t, and that requires a willingness to stretch. To be real. To be me, even with my flaws. I can’t be perfect. There’s no such thing.

The Mothers & Daughters slam was spectacular. Watch the stories and applaud the storytellers.

I’ll do this again a month from now, and the month after that. I can’t control what happens, I can only show up and do my best. All I can do is the next right thing.

Thank you for the kindness, the love, and the patience.

xoNan

Storytellers in order of appearance:

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