No Experts Required.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay “Self-Reliance,” explained that “We lie in the lap of immense intelligence, which makes us receivers of its truth and organs of its activity” (Emerson). He believed that we were not meant to conform to societal norms. Instead, he argued that true morality is when we allow our inner voice to guide our actions. He believed that regardless of popular opinion, the best way to live is to “trust thyself” (Emerson). Emerson published these words in 1841, and although today click-bait on social media promotes concepts like these, we seldom apply them in our daily lives. I’d like to think I live my life listening closely to my heart regardless of what the world thinks. But recently I realized I missed what had been staring at me in the face for decades, when on August 31 of this year, I attended an Overdose Awareness Day memorial walk.

I chose not to attend the memorial walk last year. Christopher’s death was too raw. Too not sunk in yet. But this year I decided to go. It was my duty to honor him, so I pinned a purple ribbon on my shirt (the symbol of Overdose Awareness), and carrying the never-ending violence between my gut and heart, I drove myself to the event on an empty tank. Among the thousands of faces on banners, Christopher’s was the first face I saw. I remember taking the picture at his championship baseball game a few years ago. He was filled with joy having pitched the whole game, leading his team to victory.

Ironically, a picture of Christopher's childhood friend was posted right next to his. I looked at the boys, side by side, and remembered the two of them no more than eight or nine years old, running around in the blocked off street for the July 4th fireworks, and fell to my knees. Turns out a mother is never ready to see her son on a banner of the deceased. And even more not ready to see his friend on the picture next to him. It was proof that as hard as I tried, I had failed my son.

Behind me, lining the grass were the peddlers. I remember, years ago having so much hope as they shared why they were what my child needed to stay sober and mentally sound. Christopher had walked the halls of them all, slept in their beds, ate their soft-serve ice cream, and shared his feelings in their groups. These were the same “addiction and recovery” tables set up at every substance use disorder event. I knew them all. The same recovery centers doing the same thing they always do, and while another generation dies, they verify insurance and, with a fresh crop, do it all over again, and again. I wanted to ask them why they didn’t do something different. I wanted to ask them how they could call themselves successful, when there were so many faces on banners. I wanted to wipe their excitement off their faces. Then do something about it, my inner voice says. But what can I do? Everything has been tried. Has it? The voice interrupts. So, you’re giving up then? Gonna ignore every idea you’ve ever had? I should have written down my sparks of inspiration, but because they belonged to me and not a doctor or academic, I thought they were not good enough, so I tossed them aside. This idea is mentioned in Self Reliance when Emerson argues that those sparks of inspiration are our destiny and ignoring them is letting go of our power and purpose (Emerson).

“Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness but must explore if it be goodness. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind” (Emerson).

I thought about what I might say to those young and certain faces leaning on their tables topped with free things; pens and stress balls with logos, stickers that say, “Celebrate Recovery” and pamphlets showing happy people sitting in circles or talking one on one with a model posing as a therapist. I fell for it so many times. I thought they had the answers. I’m not angry with them as much as I am with myself. Why did I keep sending my son back to the same model that wasn’t working for him? Christopher was not a conformist, and according to Emerson, “Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members” (Emerson). I wonder if we celebrated people that didn’t fit the mold, would my son have turned to drugs to feel a part of society? Would he have turned to drugs to mask how lonely and wrong he felt? Our intuition is our “primary wisdom,” and following anything else is a waste of time and energy. It’s from within we are meant to live and express (Emerson).

It’s the faces that aren’t on those banners yet that I think of now, that don’t fit into society as we have structured it and are left with little choice but to conform. The model has not changed. Perhaps it’s time for a new way of doing things. I once imagined a treatment center or recovery house that, instead of the first questions being about drug of choice, they were about favorite foods, art, hobbies, and music. Instead of talking all day about ways to stay sober, it would center around tapping into that inner voice. I imagined the therapists would challenge their patients with a healthy way of breaking rules. Instead of isolation, they might bake together, or dance together. Instead of insisting they get a job after one month of sobriety, they get six months of time to heal. Instead of just one model of the twelve-step program, there are other pathways celebrated equally. Rather than being told to fit in and conform, they are encouraged to value and connect with themselves. I quickly dismiss these ideas when they make their way into my thoughts because I’m not an expert. But Emerson would disagree: “Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members” (Emerson).

Self-Reliance is an essay that inspires us to do better. It asks us to consider things we usually dismiss. I see the place of healing in my mind and wonder if it’s too bold to treat whole families at a time. The people at those tables would say that was a stupid idea or a pipedream. I call it something to explore. When I think of a name, Waldo Wellness has a nice ring. Doesn't it?

Self-Reliance, nationalhumanitiescenter.org/pds/triumphnationalism/cman/text8/selfreliance.pdf. Accessed 12 Sept. 2025.