Why I Hold Grudges

I’m working the Steps this year by reading and answering the questions in Paths to Recovery. The first question in the defects section in the chapter on Step 4 – made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves – asks why do I hold onto my resentments? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked myself this question; I’ve only acknowledged that I do indeed hold onto grudges, thinking it is what I learned growing up with a very sick mother, having been abandoned by my father.

Perhaps knowing why I continue to hold onto my resentments even when I know they hurt me is the key to really letting them go. Suddenly I realized that I hold onto my grudges to protect myself from getting hurt. As a child, I put on my suit of armor and became as hard as steel so no one could hurt me again like my father had and like my mother continued to do. Even then they got through, although I didn’t feel it, not really.

But as I grew, both physically and emotionally, the suit of armor became too small; it began to spread apart and the gaps left me more and more vulnerable as time wore on. I still had resentments, but my coat of grudges no longer protected me the way it used to. As I’ve grown spiritually in Al-Anon, I’ve learned that my health depends on me completely shedding this false protection that no longer serves me. Instead, I will cover myself in God’s acceptance, love, forgiveness, and approval of me, as well as my own acceptance, love, forgiveness, and approval of me.

In this way, I no longer need to hide behind steel plates; the problem with the armor was that it protected me from everything – even the good stuff in life! Now I am protected by a transparent bubble that lets hurtful opinions and actions bounce off of me while letting kindness and love through. I no longer need to fear what others can do to me, so I can let go of my old, childhood resentments and finally be free of their constraints. I can grow up and enjoy the maturity of adulthood. Just for today, I know that I did the best I could even as my parents did the best they could.

Lessons Learned in Service

I am so grateful for service work in Al-Anon. It is what we do after working the 12 Steps for our own recovery. It is part of the 12th Step to pass on our own experience, strength, and hope. But it is also how we keep our recovery going and don't slip back into old ways of thinking and behaving. I am grateful that I've had the opportunity to learn lessons in a safe environment.

I've learned how to communicate with others.

I've learned how to ask for help.

I've learned that I don't have to do it perfectly.

I've learned to show up and shut up.

I've learned that I can love someone with whom I disagree.

I've learned more tolerance for others in their struggles.

I've learned that keeping busy is sometimes the best way to stay out of someone else's business.

I've learned to let go of resentments, old ones as well as new ones.

I've learned to feel my emotions without letting them get the best of me.

I've learned patience with myself and others on this path of recovery from living with the disease of alcoholism.

I've learned that it's never too late to grow up, get out of myself, and stop pointing the finger of blame.

I've learned to not whine and stay away from Pity City, Pop. 1.

I've learned that I can love myself the same way others love me - I can really listen when they compliment me rather than just hear the constructive criticism.

I've learned that even a hopeless case that was me can become the person I was meant to be before I reacted negatively to my parents' behavior.

I've learned that I have always done the best I could, just as my parents did the best they could.

I've learned that the best way to live is to ask God each and every morning to let me be of service, even if some days that service is taking care of myself first and foremost.

Thank you for letting me share.

Sometimes It's Okay Not to Feel

When I heard that my mother was in the hospital with serious side effects from taking too much of her narcotic pain medicine, it crossed my mind that she could die. She is, after all, almost 80 and has been in bad health for years. When her possible death did not bother me, I was a bit bothered by my lack of emotion. I simply thought, "Should she die, I would go to her funeral." Period.

Then I read in Hope for Today (March 19th) that we have sometimes already grieved the loss of someone long before they are actually gone. We have already shed our tears and gone through the appropriate stages of grief, which I believe are denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, and acceptance. After years of trying to fix a relationship that was not to be, I realized I was already at the last stage of acceptance, thus the lack of feelings (or at least intense feelings).

I was more into thinking about Dad and how he would do as Mom's death would affect his life dramatically. This still didn't prompt in me the need to be by his side, for it would mean travel when that was the last thing I needed right now. My first obligation is always to myself, to take good care of me. Plus I have a sister right there should Dad/Mom need someone. And I have other family members close by me that I need to help in the coming month.

Fortunately, Mom recovered and is now home with a new regimen, and Dad is relieved. If I had gone into my prior mode of drama resulting in rescue, rather than calmly accepting what is and what could happen - without getting into all the what-ifs - I would have wasted energy that I do not currently have to deal with Mom/Dad, again. I've spent time on those relationships, even travelling to Europe once to rescue them. As such, I've made my amends. I've done what I can do and that is enough.

This may sound cold to some of my readers, but I assure you that it is simply the result of years of grieving over what I never had and never will have with my parents - healthy, functioning, nurturing relationships. Both my sponsor and a professional (who included my mother in my therapy for a time) told me that some people simply do not change. I had to move on to take care of myself and look to other relationships for my needs - first and foremost the one with my Greater Power.

With that comes love and forgiveness of myself as well as the same for others. Forgiveness, by the way, does not mean we forget. It means we let go of the resentments. And love isn't always a feeling, it is more a willingness to respect another's humanity - flaws and all - realizing that they, too, are children of God. I also rely on the God of my understanding to let me know when and if I should step up to the plate, and this time it was obvious that I belonged on the bench - simply watching the game and praying for those involved in the action.

Spiraling Upward...

Recovery and progress in this program have often been described as a spiral, that we deal with the same issues over and over again, only on a different level. Many times, it seems like we're sprialing downward - you know, the one step forward, two steps back feeling. As we grow, however, by really working the steps, reasoning it out with others, attending meetings, and doing service work (vital, in my opinion), our spirals tend to go upward more than downward.

I had this type of growth spurt recently. Just a few blogs ago, I mentioned my blood father again. I had actually started this blog with the last time I was in contact with him. Since then I've been working on forgiving him for not only his past behavior but his current behavior towards me. Watching the movie The Savages last month brought it all to the forefront again. I saw these adult children who had been abused as children forgiving their father by taking care of him in his last days. It was moving considering they hadn't had much contact with him for years and years.

But that didn't mean that I had to take care of my blood father in his old age. As someone said to me early on in the program during a step study, you can forgive someone but that doesn't mean you have to take them to lunch. And as my current sponsor says, you can forgive someone without forgiving their actions. Also, you don't need to put yourself in harm's way if that person continues in their destructive behavior. Which my blood father has, continuing to abandon me over and over again while at the same time blaming my mother and me for his estrangement.

So what happened recently besides seeing the movie The Savages? I went to NYC last weekend and visited Ellis Island. It occured to me that I didn't know enough about my father's family to look up if any of them had come through Ellis Island. (I knew about both sides of my mother's family, that they had hit the states and the West around 1852.) When I got home, I found the genealogy book my father had given me in the 1990's about his father's family, and in it was a family tree with his mother's maiden name and her parents' names.

With that information, I went on the Ellis Island website and found three women who could have been my great-grandmother. Then I went on websites in Minnesota to find my great-grandparents' wedding certificate or my grandmother's birth certificate, to find out more about my great-grandparents. I didn't get anywhere, although I didn't make any phone calls to find out more. Instead, I decided that I might have to contact my father to find out more. Then I was reminded from the family tree that tomorrow is his 80th birthday.

Suddenly I felt like it was time for me again to try to contact him. After all, it was his 80th birthday, and his mother would be 100 next month were she still alive. Now I have been advised by both my sponsor and therapist to emotionally divorce my father, and I've been working on that for several years. So I called my sponsor who did not give me advice but told me to pray about it, determine my motives, and think about the consequences, if I could live with the outcome. I pleaded with her to tell me what to do and she said I already knew what to do.

I didn't, but I did know - and I told her so - that I do believe I had finally forgiven him. I had finally let go of that deep resentment that was my original resentment. I didn't really realize it until I said it, but it was true. My insides match my outsides now. I no longer have to fake it till I make it. I truly am serene about the whole situation. It is what it is. I have accepted it and moved on or upward into a different level of living, no longer pulled down by the past.

So after dinner, I started to write a letter to him about Ellis Island and wanting to know more about his mother's side of the family. I fully intended to say Happy 80th Birthday and all that, but just a few paragraphs into the letter I felt very strongly that I was wasting energy and time, and this wasn't in God's will for my life. That I could be open to having a relationship with him, but he would have to initiate it this time since he was the one who broke it the last time. I learned last year that I don't need to mend a relationship that I didn't break!

Even though I used to try, over and over and over again. And where did it get me but not serene. Yet here I am now, serene, although things don't appear right with my world, they are, because they are right in my heart, with my motives, with my God, and with the universe. Each of our stories is different. Each of us follows a different path in recovery. One friend may forgive her father and take care of him in his old age. Another may have to forgive her father after his death.

As for me and my heart, although I don't see or talk to my father, I have forgiven him and wish him a Happy 80th Birthday. He is, after all, a child of God and suffering from this family disease called alcoholism. And because of that, I can be compassionate, but I can also detach with love for myself, moving ever upward in the spiral of recovery.

Wouldn't It Be Nice!

I got this letter today that promises me all my wishes will come true, like winning a million dollars, my children will find love and success, I will lose weight, I will have more friends, I will be happy in my work, etc. etc. etc., and I only have to buy this special wish ring. Just $5 plus shipping and handling and following the instructions that come with it. Wow. What a promise. Unfortunately, there is no magic ring that will make my dreams come true. There is no "secret."

Instead, there is hard work, honesty, kindness, love, service, and prayer, yes, prayer, but not the kind that asks for material wealth and a perfect body. The kind that asks "only for God's will for us and the power to carry that out." This means to me that I shouldn't even be asking God for specific things for me or my children, rather simply for God's best for us and how may I be of use to God and others.

There are days God tells me to take care of myself, to be good to myself. For example, when I suffered some head trauma in a motorcycle accident, I needed extra rest. Without it, I wouldn't be good to anybody. In fact, I was acting like I used to before recovery, shooting off my mouth, blaming others for my unhappiness, making unnecessary demands on others, and being generally miserable. After a few days of rest and doing almost nothing, I felt better.

Now I am able to serve again and enjoy life again, even if there is no shortcut to losing weight and no magic spell to make sure my children find love and happiness. There is only God, love, forgiveness, and letting go. Oh, and putting one foot in front of the other, doing the next best thing, and suiting up and showing up. All the things we hear at meetings. They do work, unlike a so-called wish ring.

To the Parent I Hardly Knew

I have a few memories
as a child—your letting go
of my bike seat, not letting me know,
letting me think you were there
holding me up, while all along
I was on my own,
like I would soon be.
And you buying me the gray
stuffed poodle for my birthday,
the one I left outside in the rain,
ruining it—I remember peering
through the window, seeing it
in the far corner of the yard,
just like I had first spied it
through the window of the drugstore,
on that first visitation weekend
we would have after the divorce.
One of the few we would have,
for it was that same year you would
say goodbye, telling me you were
moving to another state and you
wouldn’t see me much—little
did we know that would be the
last time, until I was grown.
Even then, the visits were short, just
a few days in the summer—hardly
enough to rebuild a relationship
broken by years of silence,
that have now turned into months
we don’t speak, and years
we don’t see each other, again.
So now it is time, perhaps the last,
that we’ll meet face-to-face—
it’s time for me to truly forgive you,
time for me to at last, let you go—
the parent I hardly knew.

©2006 Al-Anon Lifer