Killing the Elephant

My blood father has come and gone and I am just now starting to regain my serenity, which to me is my goal in recovery. It turns out that the reason I was fearful of being alone with my father isn't for what he would say to me, but for what I would say to him -and how I would say it. The good thing that came out of his visit and a serious conversation we had one day was that I finally killed the elephant in the room.

That elephant was WHY? Why did you not visit me as a child? And why haven't you visited your grandchildren for 17 years? My father's answers are not as important as the fact that I asked the hard questions and then told him how I felt, both as a child whose father left and never came back and as an adult whose father only visited when it seemed convenient for him.

He was not appreciative of my bringing these things up, but the result was that I told him all was forgiven. I do not know where those words came from because I really did not feel forgiveness. However, I've been practicing forgiveness ever since - of my father but more importantly of myself for having been angry for so long and having expressed my feelings in an angry tone.

I'm learning to have compassion for myself - a little girl who was told to shut up, that her feelings did not matter; a young woman who was told to obey her husband (who was an alcoholic); and a middle-aged woman who believed that her relationships should never have any conflict ever again. I've been wrong about that last one. Conflict happens. It is how I deal with it that matters.

To tell you the truth, I did not deal with my father the way I wanted. I spoke louder and longer than necessary. Yet my voice was heard. He heard me. He said that I was hurt as a child. He said he was a good person who had done some very bad things. When I apologized for being so hard on him, he said he probably deserved it. Then I told him all was forgiven and hugged him. I also said that I was done talking about it.

The rest of our time together was a lot more relaxed because the elephant in the room was dead. It is a lot easier to be with others when there isn't a huge beast in the room. Even though I feel like I am still fumigating my world and needing extra rest and needing to talk a little longer in meetings and with program friends - I am regaining my serenity. I am accepting things for the way they were, what happened, and how things are today.

I am forgiving myself as well as both of my parents and my husband. I feel like I want to hold onto my original resentments because they are such an integral part of who I was most of my life. At least, God, let me have just a little resentment... but that's not how surrender works. I need to surrender 100%. It is time. I believe I am letting go and letting God, for good. I believe I am trusting the God of my understanding to do for me what I cannot do for myself.

I believe some of us have a harder time giving up our grudges. I am one of those people, even though I know they hold me back, they weigh me down. No longer. I'm asking God to remove them from me again, before they drag me back to that bitter, ugly person I was when I came into the program 20 years ago. I know it will happen. I've experienced this miracle before. I can feel them lifting and leaving in their wake SERENITY. Now I can get on with living my life.

Alcoholism - A Killer Disease

My Saturday Al-Anon group was reminded again that alcoholism is a disease that kills. A member shared that her spouse had died. I don't know why we were shocked, but it so seldom happens because most of us have loved ones in recovery. But it could have happened in my life and it still could. I need to be grateful again for recovery, mine as well as others.

It's hard for me to understand that alcoholism is a disease. After all, it's treatment is mostly spiritual rather than with medications or chemotherapy. It is unlike cancer which a close family member is now battling. We don't expect her to get herself to all her doctor and chemo appointments while taking care of children and household chores. Instead, we are willing and able to assist in any way we can. We believe this will help her get better.

With the alcoholics, however, we have had to detach with love and not enable them by trying to fix them or the consequences of their drinking. In the past, this kind of help has only prolonged the disease, keeping them from hitting their bottoms and getting the real help they need. We have had to let go and let God and take care of ourselves, which is the best way to be prepared when the alcoholics ask for help.

We still need to be cautious that we only do for them what they can't do for themselves and what the God of our understanding asks of us. Often this is simply encouraging them in their recovery and spending more time alone while they go to meetings and take on service positions. One of the best ways I've dealt with this aspect is to do my own service work, including positions and sponsoring. This almost always works to get me out of self-pity and the blame game.

After all, I don't blame my loved one for having cancer. I just accept it and take care of myself so I am able to help when I am asked. In this way, dealing with the two diseases is the same. If I let myself go to pot, I'm no good to anybody. I practice "live and let live" so I don't push my opinions on anyone or hover unnecessarily. And sometimes I have to say "no" because I have made another commitment or simply need to have some fun.

My God doesn't expect me to do it all or do it all alone. I also have to ask for help. It's exhausting to deal with someone else's life-threatening disease. Right now, for example, I caught a virus and am still recovering from a secondary infection. I've had to let my housework go and say "yes" to activities that get me out in the sun and out of my head. I've had to take life one day at a time, never knowing from day to day how I will feel or what will be asked of me.

In this way, I know that God will give me the courage and strength I need to do his/her will just for today. I need not go into the future, worrying about someone dying. Neither need I go into the past, regretting my past behavior or thinking about all the woulda, coulda, shouldas. Right now, in this moment, all is well. I'm feeling better. My sick loved one is having a good day. And my spouse is sober. It is easy to have an attitude of gratitude.

It helps me to remember how fragile life is and how much our 12-step programs have helped us hang on to the gift of life. Help me, God, to never forget that alcoholism, like cancer, is a deadly disease.

I've Stopped Fighting

One of my character defects due to the "fight or flight" syndrome we Al-Anons often share is that I always seemed to need an enemy - at home, at work, or even in the program. But at Summer Assembly, when someone came up to me to ask if I heard the remarks someone else made and if I thought they were rebuking something we had done, I gently said, "No, I did not take it personally."

Then at the end of Assembly, I was approached by someone else who had a strong suggestion/correction about the way I was doing part of my position. I was actually able to take this constructive criticism by saying "Point taken. I hear you. I understand. I will change that and report the change next Assembly." Not only did I say the right things, I did not feel the immediate need to "fight or flight."

Suddenly, or so it seems, I've attained some of that maturity we are promised if we work this program. Thank you, God. How good it feels not to have any enemies. Instead I see loving individuals who share the same goals I do, both in the program, at home, and even at my other volunteer work. Live and let live. Amen.

Lois Wilson's Family Home in Brooklyn

By pure luck, we ended up staying in Brooklyn on our last
weekend trip to New York City. We had some time on our
hands so were able to walk the couple blocks to Lois Wilson's family home, the home she and Bill Wilson were living in when he finally got sober. It was also the home where Bill not only held the first A.A. meetings in New York, but housed a lot of drunks. It is privately owned and not a museum, unlike Dr. Bob Smith's home in Akron, Ohio, where Bill W. and Dr. Bob had their first meeting which was the beginning of A.A. We were able to see that home in 2005 on our way back from the A.A. International in Toronto. In the future, I hope to visit Stepping Stones, the Wilsons' next and final permanent home which is outside NYC (see blogroll).

The significance of seeing Lois' beautiful home in Brooklyn Heights is knowing that even though her father was a doctor and her upbringing was that of privilege, she married an alcoholic. And even though Bill got sober, Lois was the only one working and bringing home a paycheck for years. She was also cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry for all the drunks that came and went in her beautiful family home. But it wasn't enough. She eventually lost her family home and she and Bill were essentially homeless for a long time until they were able to buy Stepping Stones.

When I read her biography, The Lois Wilson Story: When Love Is Not Enough by William G. Borchert, I realized just how sick Lois was. For 15 years after her husband co-founded A.A. she continued to take care of most his needs, enabling him to put most of his time and effort into A.A. and thus stay sober, but also to be a part to Lois losing her family home in the process. Of course, she didn't have Al-Anon like I do, and I'll be forever grateful to her for helping start a recovery program for me and all the other family members and friends of alcoholics who need a "home" for themselves to recover from the family disease of alcoholism.

Even with recovery, I stayed married to an active alcoholic for 15 years while in Al-Anon. I didn't lose my home, but I lost a lot of friends and jobs along the way, and wasted a lot of energy on negativity, anger, and dire unhappiness. My husband is sober now and I am grateful, even to Lois for enabling Bill to work with a bunch of drunks right in her home, 24/7. I can't imagine. I don't even let my husband use our family phone line for taking A.A. calls. I've asked him to use his cell phone.

I know I need to work harder at being compassionate towards alcoholics; after all, it says in one of our traditions that part of our primary purpose is to encourage alcoholics in their recovery. At the same time, I need to keep a balance between being there for them and taking care of myself. I believe that Lois learned this later on, after she lost her family home, but only after she had her own program and began minding her own business. How wonderful that she did, and that she passed it on through Al-Anon. Because of her legacy, I have discovered my own ability to "Live and Let Live." Thank you, God!