a million little pieces...

A few years back, I was walking through a bookstore and stumbled upon this book that caught my attention. This is not an unusual occurrence for me as it tends to happen often but usually, I just take note of the book title and add it to my list of “must reads” for the near future. This one captured me though and I bought it right then and there on the spot. I began reading it that night and for the next week, I found myself on an emotional rollercoaster that left me completely captivated by the resilience of the human condition.

This book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s the memoir of a drug addict and his time spent in recovery. Really, it’s about our relationship with ourselves and the circumstances that can arise when we avoid the deep, dark places that our journey can often take us to. It’s riveting. It’s moving. It’s one of my very favourite books.

Shortly after I finished the book, the controversy started. A website called Smoking Gun had apparently uncovered discrepancies regarding some of the facts claimed in the book and this was leaving Oprah Winfrey, who had recently selected the book for her famous Book Club, a little bit disgruntled. Apparently Frey’s memories weren’t as factually accurate as Oprah would have liked and the dispute soon discredited not only an incredible writer but also his spectacular book.

But here’s the thing; this memory is being told by a man who spent a large part of his life highly intoxicated and under the influence of some very powerful drugs. I expect his memories to be somewhat skewed. I expect his memories to be a clouded variation of what really happened. I even expect some of his memories to be completely blocked in a desperate plea for self-preservation. That’s why it’s a memoir…because everyone’s view of the world is being seen through different eyes, with waves of different emotions, leaving us to witness very different moments in time. That is what it means to co-exist in this world together…the ability to merge our collective memories to create an experience of this madness we call life!

How often do two people interact in any given situation coming away from it with completely different experiences? Likely more times than we know! I believe that a great number of the world’s disputes are a result of this very phenomenon…the emotional attachment to our own personal experience that often leaves us reacting to a reality that may only exist to us. Our drug of choice in this case…? A lethal combination of past experiences and present expectations that will inevitably cloud our vision and alter the image before us.

I read once that our emotions are not reliable and shouldn’t be trusted because our emotions do not reflect reality and can lead us down a road that isn’t necessarily built on truth. I see the logic in such a statement but as a woman who feels life very strongly; that’s a pretty tall order! But I can also see how my emotions get me into trouble…how they can take over my entire being until I can see nothing else but my own truth…leaving me with my share of battle scars and searching for my next hit. With emotion running through my veins, in a world made for the sober…what’s a girl to do?!?! What’s any girl to do?

I have lived a life along side many other people…and we are different. Our memories are different, our experiences are different, our resulting character is different…but we are still here, in this life…together. We are all in recovery from something…together. We endure our own form of rehab hoping to be set free…together. And what would we be without that? What would we be without a life to connect us all…without a middle ground to call a truce…without twelve different steps to help lift us up a bit higher to a self that is bit more familiar?

We would be lost. We would be broken. We would be alone in our reality that no one else knows. We would, most definitely, be nothing more than a million little pieces.