Why hold on to past memories of embarrassing moments with the written proof that they actually happened?

So that in a few years, after getting over the major trauma of it all, they can be read out loud into a microphone directed to a group of strangers in a bar. It’s a wonderful idea from which “Cringe Night” was born. Open mic nights with teenage journals seemed to have made their mark in Brooklyn a few years back, and had their very first appearance in Portsmouth last Tuesday night. Held at Still, a tapas bar on the corner of Court and Queen, all kinds of Hampton Roadsians were delighted to get up on stage and make fun of themselves while onlookers laughed and identified with their problematic earlier years.

The host, Jay Stecher, had what looked to be a freezer sized ziplock bag overflowing with carefully folded pieces of notebook paper, mostly from high school ex-girlfriend, Wendy, which he randomly chose to read aloud between guests. The aptly dubbed “Love, Wendy” notes, were filled with the inner workings of a 17-year-old drama queen. Brimming with jealousy, projection and conditionally unconditional love, the letters seemed to bring us all back to why it was that we came together that evening in the first place: to take a glimpse back to our past in order to have a greater sense of clarity of who we are now in our present.

In retrospect, we are able to find humor in even the most embarrassing situations of momentary awkwardness. And when we have the opportunity to relive and retell these horror stories of our past, we are able to discover such humility and grace in knowing that we have come so far since that seemingly distant time. How we would do everything differently now becomes more apparent because that experience allowed us so much growth within ourselves. Then we have the potential, when given enough attention, to create a parallel with how we live our lives in the present, continually cultivating wisdom at a faster pace because we have the consciousness to see the signs: lapse in supposed “ideal self” equals an amazing opportunity for personal expansion. Even when the current plight’s outcome isn’t completely clear, just knowing that the light of truth will be revealed is enough to bring us to a place of hope rather than frustration. And realizing that we are all together in this certainly doesn’t hurt either.

Creating a space where commonality between people is achieved is more important now, in this digitalized world we have manifested, than ever. Seeing each other get up on stage and tell even a small portion of our life stories brings us together in not only a physical, but also an emotional way. We unknowingly support the person on stage in possibly peeling off a layer of unnecessary anxiety, fear, guilt, shame or any number of other negative emotions that he or she has held onto for so long that a portion of their identity is created and based upon it.

Of course, the booze is a factor–we all say more than we usually do when there is an alcoholic beverage involved–but the undercurrent of trust that is held in such a setting is astounding: by allowing ourselves to speak a part of our truths and be heard has an amazingly positive effect on the way that we view our selves and our environment.

So, although my description of this experience may have delved slightly deeper into the human psychological ocean of possibilities, overall, Cringe Night was just a really great time. The energy at Still was light-hearted and fun and everyone seemed to really enjoy having the opportunity to come together in such an unconventional way. I definitely plan on being at future Cringe Nights, maybe even to share one of my many tales of early Elizabethan life! Exciting!

I hope to see you at the next installment of hilarious group therapy! Get more information on upcoming dates at Cringe Night’s facebook page.