Am I Open To Constructive Criticism?

Today I was nattering to Robert about something, and he replied in his laidback way, with a grin, "Thank you for making me aware of those alternatives," at which I burst out laughing. That's his gentle way of saying - "I know that, I can think for myself, you're being controlling."

Constructive criticism used to make me squirm and writhe, with shame and anger. I had no way of understanding that criticism didn't necessarily mean that the person was condemning me as a human being, perhaps they were offering me a different way to do something, another viewpoint about a topic, or a new way to frame a problem, which reduced it to a manageable size, and allowed me to have a completely changed outlook.

I took criticism as an insult and a betrayal. I couldn't hear it, I wasn't interested in receiving it, I'd go miles out of my way to lay the blame at the feet of anyone else, so I didn't have to be told that what I had said or done was not the best way to do it.

When anyone would offer me even the gentlest of criticisms, my first response was first a hot anger, then self-pity, and then a seething resentment. How dare they? Didn't they know that I was already struggling with an unmanageable home life? That I'd had a rotten childhood? That I was exempt from the normal feedback because I was unhappy and depressed?

When I consider what it must have been like for my first sponsor, I have to laugh. That woman offended me more times than seems humanly possible for anyone acting from the best of intentions. She'd offer me a constructive criticism miles more delicate than the one of Robert's mentioned at the beginning of this post, and I would swell up like a puffer fish and take serious offense. I will never forget the day that she said gently to me, "Well, you know, righteous indignation is delicious, but it's not the best way to go about things."

I thought she was talking about the drinking alcoholic. I said, "You mean him."

She looked at me with loving eyes, and replied softly, "I mean you."

I was shocked and mortally offended. I wasn't righteously indignant! I had a darn good reason for my feelings. I was a martyr! I had a right to be obnoxious, because I was only responding to what I received with like behavior. And with my first husband, that may very well have been true. But it wasn't helpful to him or me, it wasn't kind, it wasn't loving, and it got me exactly nowhere at all in working my program.

That was one of the first times in which I slowly came to believe that what my sponsor was offering me was a way to see more clearly, and a way to change. It took a while from her comment until my grasping dimly what she was on about, but it did slowly happen.

When I can accept my character defects without blame, shame or guilt, I am free to behave differently. I can accept that I am not perfect, and never will be. I can clarify Step Seven for myself:

"Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings."

I need help to change my behavior, I cannot do it on my own, because I have only my mind and my personality to do it - I need a power greater than myself to be able to stop, admit, accept, and then let go, and try a new way of responding.

Selective Vision for Step 8

I've been to several meetings this week on the topic of  Step 8: "Made a list of persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all."

I find it interesting how many people seem to see this as another way to look at what the alcoholic has done to damage us. That's not what this Step asks us to do. We aren't  making lists of all the people, including ourselves, harmed by the alcoholic, we are taking a clear and careful look at our own character defects, and how those have caused pain, grief, sorrow and trouble to the people in our lives.

It wasn't until I was willing to admit that I could be a jerk, that I began to get much from this program. As long as I was still fixated upon what the alcoholic had done, was doing, might be about to do, my focus was skewed.

I don't attempt to suggest that we haven't been harmed in this alcoholic relationship, one is always getting toes snipped off and bits gouged out when we love an alcoholic, it's the nature of their disease, of the inflated sense of self, and overweening ego, which accompanies the other symptoms.

But we become equally as self-absorbed in our confusion and our pain, "irritable and unreasonable without knowing it." That's why we need a sponsor, because when we start out on this journey, our defenses will have us insist that we have no character defects, that we don't need to make a list, that we haven't harmed anyone. Over the years that I've been in this program, I've seen this happen time and again - someone relatively new insisting that they don't like this character defect stuff because it sounds too punitive, or they havn't done anything compared to the alcoholic's crimes against the world, or just a general sense of outrage when it's suggested to them that they learn to focus on their own faults.

 I've been that person, wanting to blame another for all my unhappiness. It wasn't until I became more willing to sit down and have a good hard look at myself that I began to find change in this program. But that requires some beating down of our own egos, and open minds with regard to who our sponsor sees
when they look at us.

Common Denominators - Rigidity

 In which areas am I rigid? What are my "rules?"  Rules are different for each of us, and can range from "Don't complain" to "Dishes must be arranged in the dishwasher in this order" to "Don't let the dog up on the furniture" to "A good friend would never do _____" to "When gardening, always deadhead before watering." It can be an interesting experiment to try to figure out as many of our rules as possible, then begin to work to let them go.

I was raised by a ferociously rigid adoptive mother who enforced her many rules and regulations with physical abuse. It wasn't until I had some time in Al-Anon that I gained an understanding that her rigidity was powered by fear - she lived in a constant state of fear. She'd had a hard childhood herself, had learned that the world and the people in it were not to be trusted, and as an adult, tried to cope with her fear by coming up with rules to cover any and every eventuality.

I didn't want to be anything like her, but I'd been well-trained into the idea that there's only one right way to do something, (and that when I became an adult, I could make up my own rules and enforce them) so it was a long hard haul uphill to try to change this way of thinking. Before I could begin to change it, I needed to understand which feelings drove it, and the purpose it served.

The feelings behind most of my rules were/are: fear, and a desire for control. If it's not one, it's the other, and  I've expended much energy trying to make the various alcoholics in my life follow my many rules. (Good luck on that one.) When I catch myself being rigid, I've learned to stop, investigate what my feeling is, why has it arisen, what do I believe will happen if my rule isn't followed to the letter, and can I choose to let this go?

So many of the things that I once believed should be done my way have been repeatedly proven to be equally as successful if done someone else's way. It doesn't matter one bit how they are done, as long as they get done. Muddling through works fine most times. There's very little in most of our lives that needs to be done precisely. This isn't rocket science, brain surgery, or computer programming.

Seems like I'm always discovering new areas in which I need to let go. Whenever I hear myself using the word "should" in a sentence, I know I need to stop and take a good look at that thought process - "should" or "shouldn't" has become a red flag for me. Much of my martyrdom was about other people refusing to follow my rules. How dare they? My first sponsor suggested a better question might be, "Why would they?"



The more I can let go, the more serenity I find. The plants don't care if I water before deadheading, or afterwards. They have a few basic needs, and as long as those are met, they will thrive. I too, have only a few basic needs. I too, can thrive if I choose to.

Common Denominators - Martyrdom

A martyr creates an identity built around one central idea - suffering. Before Al-Anon, I was deeply committed to my vision of myself as a martyr. I'd had a hard early life, and here I was, married to an alcoholic, and still suffering. That vision of myself was rather rudely put to rest during the working of my first Fourth Step, as I slowly became aware of my own character defects, aided by a sponsor who couldn't be manipulated - she knew exactly what I was doing when I was doing it, because she'd done all of it herself.

I would be full-rant about the latest terrible thing the alcoholic had done or said, and looking up, would find that she was watching me with a loving gaze, and that blasted eyebrow slowly climbing up her forehead. When it began the ascent, I knew I was about to be challenged. In time, I had only to see it rise enough to create the tiniest suggestion of a wrinkle, and I knew I was in for it.

I hated the way she seemed able to see right through me, and could be deeply irritated that she wasn't interested in providing me an audience while I elucidated the minute details of my martyrdom. One day, when her eyebrow was at its peak, and I was still defiantly whining and moaning about how hard my life was, I glanced at her, and without knowing I was about to, stopped, grinned and said, ruefully, "Nobody knows the trouble I done seen."

She responded instantly with, "Gotta suffer, if you want to sing the blues."

We howled together, one of those laughing fits that leaves you gasping and wiping your eyes, and wondering afterwards why that was so funny, but smiling again at the memory. I doubt I recognised at the time that I'd just experienced one of those massive shifts in understanding which can forever change us for the better, if we are willing to quickly follow through with more excavation of self.

Without further work, I have learned that I will forget the lesson and have to relearn it at a later date. It will be a more painful lesson that next time, and even more so the next -  experiencing that truth has not been pleasant, but it's the "sure and certain" outcome when I've been obstinate in my refusal to accept.

My Higher Power will give me what I want, and if I want opportunities for martyrdom, and to be a victim, I'm going to get them. When I decided once and for all that I had had enough of that, and I wanted change, that's what I received.  It's that simple.

12-Step is a simple program. All my efforts to complicate so as to have a good reason not to do it have served me about as well as you'd expect. When I surrender, when I accept, when I let go, life is good, and I'm at peace.