DUNHAMISMS #8

Last Call for Alcohol!

If you had told me- when I first started soliciting questions a little over a month ago- just how this exercise would affect me, well, frankly I would have been embarrassed for future Lena. The premise was really just “lol, who would want advice from the girl who has made every mistake at least twice?” There seemed to be an irony to it, like going to see a pulmonologist who chain smokes. So imagine my surprise when I found myself ignoring pressing daily duties in order to pour over your questions. Reading them all- every vulnerable, funny, confusing query- was a reminder of just how much overlap there is between us. You wrote to me about broken friendships, heart rending situationships, disastrous family meals, grievances both petty and profound. And in doing so, you illustrated two core concepts:

1- One of the first things that happened when I got sober was that I stopped being so fucking judgey. I hadn’t even known I was judgmental… until I wasn’t. It was as if I’d been born with a set of ankle weights strapped on, and a kind passerby noticed and un-Velcro’d them. Suddenly, I could run! Emptied, for the first time in years, of my need to look around and say “wrong!” I soon found that if I got to know aaalmost anyone’s story intimately, then I couldn’t help but love them. Not pity them, or understand their suffering intellectually, or empathize with their plight, but looove them. My pals from rehab may not be my best day to day friends, and some I likely won’t see again, but I’d stand ten toes down for their right to a happy life any day. And that’s precisely how I feel about all of the advice seekers. Just the act of reaching out, of sharing, is brave and loving. Loving to you, loving to others who might see themselves reflected in your question.

You honestly all remind me of this sweet bebe, cheeky and bare bottomed and unafraid. BTW this mascot is very… of a time. And that time is not now!

2. Which brings us to realization numero dos. You are all vastly different people with vastly different lives. But if I had to distill your anxiety, fear and pain into pure emotion juice, not from concentrate, it would be: lonely & unseen. Whether it’s a boss who looks past you, an artist’s residency that rejects you, a friend who misperceives you, a partner who disappoints you (straight men are NOT coming off well in these but thank God that’s not my problem to solve) what you’re really saying is that you want the experience of being known and loved for who you are and what you have to offer. You want to be surrounded by people who “get it.” You want to find a way to reach outside yourselves and you want people to reach toward you, honestly.

And so do I, which is one of the reasons this has been so lovely. We all speak a shared emotional language- it’s not self-help, or habit stacking, or efficiency culture. It’s not a motivational wooden sign that says “be stronger than your excuses.”

AND Ito En green tea. AND Lexapro. AND The RealReal “unbranded” section. And Zyn.

We all respect and appreciate the scrabbling around in the mud that one must do in order to figure out their place in this world. We don’t need to call it “messy” or “chaos mode” or even a “journey.” We can just keep on keeping on. And indeed, I could answer a thousand of these with gusto!

But, much like Seinfeld self-cancelling the show before it jumped the shark, you gotta know when to walk away. My birthday is tomorrow. As planned, this will be our last Dunhamisms. My OCD number of choice is eight, so it works out in a very satisfying way, for me at least. An early gift if you will. I’m not going anywhere, though I will need time and space to curate the best barrettes on Etsy for you. If you need (better) advice in the meantime, check out queens of the form Haley Nahman at Maybe Baby or Ask Polly with the inimitable Heather Havrilesky.

And of course, you can always delve into the collected columns of Dear Sugar or Dear Dolly or Demetria Lucas. And I can’t wait for this documentary about the mother of the modern advice format, E. Jean Carroll.

Our theme this week is saying goodbye- endings, exits, au revoirs. I used to hate saying goodbye so much so that I would sob for two hours on the last night of sleep away camp, as we sang Arms of An Angel and lit paper lanterns, holding each other and wailing as we sent them off on the lake

Now I just tend to bolt through a side door and send a text later, which is NOT good advice.

But hopefully some of this is.

Hi Lena! I’m struggling with being in early sobriety as well as early success in my film career. I’m often obligated to go to industry parties and festivals and screenings and filmmaker brunches (latest being at the Magic Castle, ooh la la!), and although it’s amazing to have my dreams kick off towards coming true, it’s also happening with me trying not to drink in spaces where booze is everywhere. I’ve already had a couple brief relapses because I didn’t want to be a party pooper, particularly when the party is full of people who have power over me. When an executive or publicist or fancy film bro hands me a glass of wine, I don’t want to say “I don’t DO THAT!” and appear to be an unruly and unemployable former drunk that’s no fun. So I don’t know what to do. Not going to these functions helps me stay sober, but by not going I feel like I’m missing out on the all-important “networking” and “being in the scene” element of being an emerging artist. I don’t know what to do. I feel like if I keep turning down invitations, they’ll stop coming, and I’m going to get left behind in and industry that’s always moving?

BB (Betty Buzz)-

Firstly huge congrats on the lifestyle change and the career jumpstart. It’s actually really amazing that you cleared your head just in time to take this ride, and make good choices as you do it (don’t hang your body off the side of the roller coaster!) This can be really fun for you, as your dreams coming true SHOULD be. We just need to gently reframe a few things.

When I first got out of rehab, I was TERRIFIED of work contacts finding out where I’d been. I’ve barely kept a secret about myself since I peed my leggings in the first grade, but I told people I’d been on a writer’s retreat. Of course they were like “oh, cool, yeah, a 28 day writer’s retreat where we can’t send you any sharp objects in the mail, makes total sense.” I was fooling no one, but I hadn’t figured out how to talk about it yet, and I shared your exact fear: that people would see me as a problem child and run the other way.

But then it occurred to me- isn’t taking responsibility for yourself actually the best advertisement for who you can be at work? Nobody has ever claimed that drinking makes them more focused, or into sharper decision makers, or more robust artists. Even if they don’t have a drinking *problem* per se, they understand the sober solution.

Look, if you told me you were a preschool teacher in 1943, I’d say maybe we keep it quiet. But you might have noticed that the film business is not exactly a bastion of excellent mental health. Recovery is one way to combat that, and once your eyes are open to it, you’ll discover that you’re surrounded by other people in various stages of this process, quietly getting sober and enjoying the same intrusive thoughts you are having right now.

Plus, not having a drink doesn’t have to be such a big to do! You don’t owe anyone an explanation. “I am in the mood for a Diet Coke, thank you though!” Simple as that.

You describe relapsing out of a sense of obligation to whoever you’re out with (bros! Let’s blame bros.) But I’d imagine that these meetings also bring with them a certain amount of generalized anxiety, even if it’s the good kind. Stating the anxiety, and then realizing I could exist right alongside it, was actually the biggest leap of early sobriety. I had gotten so used to thinking of anxiety as purely bad, something to be eradicated as quickly as possible and by whatever means necessary. But anxiety- creative anxiety, social anxiety- is actually an essential part of our machinery. It wakes us up, gets us moving and- if we listen- it helps to keep us out of harm’s way.

As for networking, I believe it’s an essential misunderstanding that Hollywood requires you to be out and about every single night. I’ve almost never seen someone get a job because they just keep running into people by the bar, until finally the decision maker thought “okay, she seems fun.” I tend to think that the time you spend on the circuit might be best used making work you’re really proud of and plotting your next move.

It’s very this:

Okay, so I want THIS wooden sign

The invitations won’t stop coming just because you’re unavailable. If anything, the sad truth is that more will. It positions you as a precious commodity, not easy to locate and only available in small quantities! Film bros love a little mystique- and of course, so do publicists.

Hi Lena, I recently lost my beloved cat Chunky- it was such a sudden and unexpected loss that in my post veterinary ER fugue I walked all the way to the astoria regal to do a double feature of Mother Mary and Michael…The days since have been devastating- on top of his loud absence (I actually keep hearing him meow) I feel angry that nobody cares about him except for me—friends eulogize his “strangeness” and ask if I’ll get another cat soon (omg I haven’t even cleaned up his litter yet!) I guess any advice on pet grief is welcome, from such a “strange” animal lover as yourself.

Cats 4ever

Oh Cats4ever!

I am so very sorry about Chunky. While you didn’t send a photo, I am imagining an oddly shaped and verbally aggressive tuxedo cat, with a cowlick at the nape of his neck. I love him, whatever he looked like.

Here’s the tough thing about losing a pet, especially for us animal crazies: nobody is ever going to feel the depths of your loss, or of your love for him. One of the most magical aspects of having a four legged, scaled or feathered companion is that we are their primary relationship- the receptacle for all of their adoration and annoyance and neuroses and joy. Unlike with a human, who has many relationships with many people who could eulogize them in many ways, you were Chunky’s person, and that leaves you to be the keeper of his legacy. That’s painful, but it’s also incredible.

In 2018 my cat Gia Marie died super suddenly- she was barely a year old, an insanely beautiful elfin Sphynx with skin the color of blue corn.

Sweet Gia Marie at 5am- I have a tattoo dedicated to her. It’s the tagline to the 1998 HBO original film Gia: “Too beautiful to die. Too wild to live.”

On this particular morning, I awoke while it was still dark out to find her glued to my chest, persistently nibbling my chin. We must have spent two hours just like that! I took the above photos because I wanted to remember it always.

I headed to work, did the usual morning coffee and blab, and suddenly started to feel absolutely dreadful. Not my usual kind of sick, but shaky, chills, fluish right down to my bones. “I… have to… go…” I stammered, turning on my heels.

I arrived home just in time to find Gia spinning in panicked circles, wheezing and hacking. She looked up at me with what I could only assume was pure terror, and I immediately scooped her up, wrapped her in her favorite bath towel and hightailed it to the vet, one hand on her chest, which was pounding. In the five minute car ride, I felt her heart speed, then slow and finally stop. The vet did chest compressions, but she was gone- fluid in her lungs after some kind of cardiac event, a heart condition that had never manifested until now. The person I adopted her from said she had survived a house fire, but I’ll never know her true tale- only that on this morning she had summoned me home.

I let my colleagues know I wouldn’t be back at work until tomorrow. I didn’t feel sick anymore, just sick with sadness! The next day, back at work sitting glumly off to the side, it was fascinating to see whose eyes widened with empathy- they had clearly loved an animal!- and who acted like my dry cleaning had been misplaced. The world really is divided into two types of people…

Your friends don’t have to understand Chunky- he was yours and you were his, and that is the truth forever. They just need to understand that this is a big deal for YOU, and that you may need some extra TLC (and not in the form of a replacement cat.) So often, when we tell people what we want, they give it to us. We sit sullenly waiting for them to figure it out, the way we hoped our caretakers would intuit our needs when we were frustrated toddlers. But sometimes adults have to be clued in, and- once they have instructions- they are thrilled to be of service to someone they love.

As for the next loud meower, trust that the Kitten Distribution System will sort you out…

My best friend of 12 years and I have been in a really rough place for the last year or so. We moved in together about two years ago (I should’ve listened to everyone who told me not to move in with my childhood best friend) and have slowly but surely grown further apart despite our physical proximity being closer than ever.

The last 4 months or so have been especially bad. It all came to a head last week when I was working from home and found her computer unlocked on our coffee table. I felt immediately compelled to read her text messages (which was incredibly invasive, but I was so curious and had a nagging feeling that I’d find something). I found around two years worth of messages, between her and essentially every one she knows, about me. They were horrific, heartbreaking, shocking, and just so obviously a blaring consequence of my own curiosity. I could never have even imagined saying some of these things or not defending her in the case of someone talking poorly about her.

We’ve been through a lot over these 12 years. I have loved her deeply and thought of her as an extension of myself for many, many years. I felt like she was the most important person in my life and I truly could not have seen my future without her.

But, the things I saw were unforgettable and our relationship will be tainted forever because of them. I know that it would be best to move out ASAP and give myself some space (her, too). But honestly, I just feel incredibly lost. I don’t know how to move through life without her, and the prospect of grieving this friendship feels impossible.

Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Every part of this is painful, and I can feel your grief and your fear and your self-recrimination in every phrase. I was particularly struck by you saying this is a “consequence of [your] own curiosity.” Because yes, you know you shouldn’t have read her texts. And you probably wish you hadn’t. But the fact is, that’s not what caused the rupture. In fact, the rupture is what caused you to read her messages in the first place! You felt something was off, and couldn’t get the clarity you needed. And it drove you a bit mad, and that madness led you to take a desperate action. And while what you discovered was horrific for you, it did serve to bring the unstated out into the open.

I am also struck by the intensity of the language around this friendship- if I were to replace the words “best friend” with the word “wife” the note would make (almost) total sense. That is not an implication that your roommate has you in a subliminal Sapphic chokehold. It’s a testament to the depth and density of female friendship, and how totally defining- in ways both good and bad- it is, especially in the years before you figure out what kind of adult family structure you want to have.

In the period between leaving our nuclear unit and finding an adult iteration of family that makes sense to us, our friends become family. That’s beautiful, but it’s also a lot of pressure, especially for people who are growing and changing with a quickness. You two intertwined your lives totally, and that can be a really cozy feeling, but it also applies all sorts of pressure. And implicit obligation can create really gnarly resentment when your expectations about what you owe each other don’t line up.

The clip below shows what happens when it goes too far!

Jordan & Alice Argue About Greg | Bodies Bodies Bodies | Max

You don’t share much about what transpired before the messages, what the dynamic was and whether you two attempted to mend it. But the fact is, even if you have been driving each other absolutely fucking nuts, that is not an excuse for her to speak about you in ways that are demeaning or cruel. I’m going to assume that you are not menacing her in the night in a Scream mask and causing her to fear for her life, but that this is just typical friend and roommate stuff: figuring out who you are in this phase of your lives and whether you can tackle it together.

Right now, it sounds like a break would be best for everyone. Sometimes, when we are afraid something is slipping through our fingers, we panic-grip it and inadvertently do more damage. Calling a time out gives both of you the chance to recalibrate and consider how you got here.

If moving out is feasible, I’d do it- nobody wants to share a toilet with someone who has been capping on them in the group chat. Perhaps you two can agree to call a truce for the remainder of your time as roommates- no pressure to repair, no need to “get this one point out.” She gives you a pass for reading her texts, and you take a beat on expressing your feelings around the findings of your iMessage study. You can set a date- four, six, eight weeks in the future- to talk honestly about it all. I think you will find that you learn a lot in that time, and the part of you that was filled with agita and need and the fear of abandonment will turn itself to the work of understanding how you both contributed to the decay of your dynamic.

As an almost forty year old lady, I can tell you that life loops back in such surprising ways, and relationships are so much more elastic than we give them credit for. I’ve found that beyond the fear of change, beyond the obsessive, anxious commitment to a relationship that is no longer well configured, lies something much deeper and more reciprocal. And if it you find you’ve reached the end of your yellow brick road together, then you have had the experience of great love and great loss- which is one of the most exquisitely painful things life has to offer us.

Thank you for rocking with me right up until forty. I think I’m ready now.

xxxxL