In honor of 20 years since Amy Winehouse’s calamitous death by alcohol poisoning at age 27, I rewatched “Amy,” the British documentary that I believe was the most tender examination into the deeply soulful star with a voice for days. Grasped through old video footage and heartrending dialogues captured in interviews with her friends, there is nothing at all exploitative about it, which is its own feat of magical realism.
What we discovered in the rendering of her early days was that her lyrics were her breath and autobiography. “Rehab,” “They tried to make me go to Rehab, and I said, NO, NO, NO!” is the most wilful chorus in the history books that I have ever known, in total opposition to more willing awareness and responsibility for our needs. Indeed, my nieces would sing “NO NO NO!” as toddlers in defiance of bedtime when that song came on the radio, emboldened by its tantrum vibrations.
Wilfulness is one side of Radical Acceptance, before we have determined to resolutely and utterly accept a construct in our lives. We all have, indeed, experienced those defiant “NO” tantrums. What was yours? I certainly struggled for many decades with fully accepting people in my life for who they totally and utterly were, and with not being in denial about how our past behaviors might predict the future. This is the equivalent of loving conditionally: “I will love you if you do not do something that you’ve done in the past.”
Amy Winehouse’s “no no no” tantrum was about going to rehab, which her most treasured friends still intuit could have been life-saving. “My daddy thinks I’m fine” is a line that perhaps speaks to her father’s wilful denial of reality. Why would a father not want to willingly accept that her life was at stake? Not accepting her truth and misadvising her haunts the imagination.
The most devastating and accurate depiction of the function of drug addiction lies within the documentary itself. Amy Winehouse’s friends gather for the Grammys, for which she promised she would be sober, and she was. Upon winning a Grammy, presented to her by her hero Tony Bennett, her friends ask her how she is doing at this elated life moment, what you would assume to be one of deep wonder, awe, and pride. “It’s so boring,” she answered tragically. This is how drugs deaden our pleasure centers, making everything else terribly boring, even the presumptively proudest moments of our lives.
Amy Winehouse taught me and the world about the power of Radical Acceptance and the lack thereof. May her memory be a reminder of our blind spots and all of our internalized and externalized “NO!” tantrums. May we all listen to our kindest friends and inner resources. Here’s to radically accepting their wisdom.