Self-Deception.

From AA's Big Book, page 58:

""Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves. There are such infortunates. They are not at fault; they seem to have been born that way. They are naturally incapable of grasping and developing a manner of living which demands rigorous honesty."

I sat in my home group this week, and listened to one of these people. I've never, in all my years of program, seen anyone attend 2-3 meetings each week, and remain so untouched, and unchanged. I'll never forget the night I sat in a meeting and listened to this woman speak, after everyone else had spoken, on the topic "justifiying our own behavior" and got a cold shiver down my back as she said, with no apparent understanding of what she was saying, that she was grateful for her justifications, because they allowed her to behave however she liked, without having to worry about someone else's feelings. She'd been in Al-Anon, attending numerous meetings in a week, for 3 years by that time.

(It's probably not very politically correct of me to say this, but I see this woman as an object lesson of what happens when we cannot give up our self-deception to work an honest program.)

I've seen many people attend meetings long enough to realise that the next step necessary for their growth is to examine their own behavior in detail, and then they stop coming to meetings, and one never sees them again. They just cannot face it, for whatever reason.

I've seen people reach this point in recovery and run headfirst into the proverbial brick wall of their own defenses, and stay stuck there, trying to find a way to slide out, or by, or around. I've watched people try to bargain, reason, argue or barter their way out of doing a Step 4, and I've seen how their recovery is a truncated and measly thing because of it, allowing them just enough relief to make it possible to keep plodding along, tolerating their lives instead of living joyfully.

The Big Book of AA goes on to say:

“Half measures availed us nothing. We stood at the turning point. We asked His protection and care with complete abandon.”

I call that "a leap of faith." I throw myself off the mountain of my discontent with complete abandon, trusting God to catch me. I can stand at the edge and look down and wiggle and squirm and struggle and protest, but until I jump, I haven't jumped. I can make fake-out lunges, and tell myself I almost jumped. I can decide to go home and jump some other time. I can practise all manner of self-deception, and most likely, my friends in program will nod and agree that yes, I did almost jump, and not point out that no, it doesn't work that way, you have to actually leave solid ground for it to count as a jump. My sponsor will, though. She'll smile lovingly at me, and point out that we are up here, rather than down there, so all self-deception aside, I didn't jump, did I?

I'm so grateful that with the help of my first sponsor, and all my other program friends, I was able to let of my ego's need to steer, and be able to climb into the back seat and let God take over the wheel. Although, I must confess, even then, I did my share of back-seat driving. Until my sponsor suggested I try something novel - shutting up.

Just say yes to God, and whatever He offers. The catch to that being, He requires that I be honest with myself, and with Him, to demonstrate my willingness. Just as it works for alcoholics in AA, it works for us in Al-Anon, that half-measures avail us nothing, and we stand at a turning point. I love that: "complete abandon."

Asking For What We Need.

My little female dog is a lover of close physical contact and snuggling. When she wants this from me, she will come to wherever I am, and ask for it. She has a certain silly dance she does when she wants to be cuddled, and I can never resist her. I'll scoop her up, put her on my lap inside my sweater, and she will settle in with a sigh of contentment.

Dogs are uncomplicated that way - when we've been living with them for a short period of time, we pretty much figure out how to communicate, and they let us know when they have a want or a need, and ask for us to fill it.

Humans can be a puzzle, especially when the person doesn't know themselves what it is they want or need. Or when their needs and wants seem to be in direct conflict with our own - then what do we do? If you are like most of us when we came into Al-Anon, we always put the other first, not hard to do when faced with the strength of the alcoholic ego sweeping all before it. Anyone who has lived with alcoholism for any length of time can know that feeling of "Anything to keep the peace." I know I was so shut off that I'd lost sight of the importance of meeting my own needs in life, as well as being a source of comfort and solace to others. I wouldn't allow anyone close enough to be a source of comfort and solace to me. I didn't think I needed it, I was tough. I thought. Truly, I was just numb. The only feeling I had was anger. I used to shake with rage.

From Hope for Today, page 159:

"I rarely cried while I was growing up in my alcoholic family. I was sure it was a sign of weakness. However, my emotions came as a package. When I turned off one feeling, I also shut off all the others."

I shut off all but anger - I was consumed with it, and had been from the time I was a child. Children know, when they are being physically abused, that this is not right, or fair, and ongoing abuse lights a terrible rage within, which if not dealt with, will ravage them as an adult.

The only way for me to let go of my fury, was to talk about some of what had been done to me, to a person who would listen while I ranted and railed against my tormentor - for me, this was my first sponsor. It was a long and arduous process to work my way past the animosity to the pain below. I was like the writer in the earlier quote - I never cried, I couldn't. I might have stinging eyes, or a lump in my throat, but I couldn't weep, even if I'd wanted to, and living with active alcoholism, I wasn't sure I did.

My sponsor kept asking me how I'd felt as a child, and I kept sidestepping with bland phrases along the lines of, "Well, I didn't like it, of course..." One day she said to me, quietly, and with feeling, "You will never get anywhere until you let yourself know what you felt back then."

Let myself know? What was she talking about? That was one of those comments which continue to rise in the mind, refusing to be pushed away, bobbing to the surface like a damn rubber ducky in the bathtub. One can either expend a fair amount of energy holding it below the surface, or let go, and watch it rise to sit directly in the path of our gaze, gently moving with the water's swell. What one cannot do, is ignore it.

For me, there was no quick relief, it took years of working the Steps - slowly working my way down through my defenses, through the anger and the resentment to the pain beneath.

The bewildered agony I had felt as a child, molded me into the adult I had become. Under all my rage and resentment was a gnawing, confused, agony of soul. God was my comfort and my solace in that time of excavating the past. God working through my sponsor. The kindness in her eyes could cause me an actual physical pain in my chest; I didn't know how to receive kindness, I felt anxious and undeserving. My sponsor used to reach out and hold my hand with hers, and say softly, "Just sit with it. You're an adult, and you're safe now. Trust God."

I feel with all my earthly self, that "mere words cannot express" my gratitude for all that this program, and the people in it, have given me. God bless you and keep you.

Doom and Gloom.

I don't know if it's a result of my time in Al-Anon, but one thing which has become glaringly obvious to me in the last while, is the large number of people who have only negative responses to offer when I talk about my new adventure.

I've heard a wide variety of versions of this dirge of negativity. The same ones who assured us with great authority that we'd never be able to live successfully in a small town, are now assuring us that the only reason we've been so successful is that we live in a small town, and we will fail dismally in the city. We've been told that crime is rampant, taxes are higher, people are unfriendly, that our move is a bad idea for any number of reasons.

Why do people do this? What do they get out of it? It's not a response I understand, and I've had days where I've had to bite my tongue not to snap something smartaleck back to the naysayers. My spouse finds it amusing, and has started to keep an informal tally of positive to negative. They came home one day laughing, and told me that the very same friend who had predicted utter failure here, was now predicting utter failure in the city, for precisely the same reasons.

I've been surprised to discover how many program friends respond in this same way - my detachment skills have been getting a good workout lately.

I'm choosing to put my faith in God; He's got a better attitude about these things.

What An Apology Is Not.

Any sentence containing the word "but."

As in:
"I'm sorry about what happened earlier, but I don't know why you got so upset over something so small..."

I've heard it suggested that in any sentence broken into two clauses with the word "but" separating them, the truth comes in the second half, and everything before "but" is just window dressing and padding. I think that's probably true, most times. I also would point out that the person offering the alleged apology has not accepted responsibility, they've nicely sidestepped it by using the phrase "what happened earlier." When anyone tries to pass one of these off on me, as an apology, I will stop them, and ask, "What happened earlier?" If they've taken their own inventory, and have clarity as to where they went wrong, they can state this without long pauses for thought. If they haven't done so, and are only trying to make peace, they might respond with "You know..." In which case, I'll say pleasantly, "I'm not sure, why don't you enlighten me."

Before Al-Anon, any hint of apology would have me falling all over myself reassuring the other person that it was ok, I was fine, things were great - all done in service to the people-pleasing part of my character, which finds it so painful when someone is angry with me.

I have learned that it's not up to me to do the work for the other person. I try not to rush to forgive before the amend has been made, because this gets in the way of giving them the room to work an honest program. I try not to say it's all right when it isn't. I try to say what I feel, and what I think. (I'm a work in progress, in this area - people-pleasing is powerfully intertwined with my character.)

This may sound harsh; when I was new to Al-Anon, I wondered what was wrong with smoothing things over? Now, I understand that what I thought I was doing, and what I was actually accomplishing with my peacemaking efforts, were inconsistent.

I've spent years making allowances, and inventing excuses for unacceptable behavior, and all I've achieved in doing so, is to prolong the misery for everyone involved. I've made it possible for problems to go unresolved, because I've accepted what I never should have, in the name of "being nice."

We teach people how to treat us. It's my responsibility to speak up when I don't like the way I'm being treated. I cannot expect the other person to discern this through proximity, osmosis, or guesswork. Al-Anon taught me that I have the right to say "I don't like this - I don't want you to do this to me."

If I want a change, I must be willing to put in the, at times, incredibly tedious work of stating and restating my position - clearly, without heat or abuse. Just the facts, ma'am. I need to be consistent, even when I'm so fatigued I can barely think. If I let the alcoholic get away with it even one time, I'll pay for it later, in their renewed efforts to change the status quo back to a more self-serving place. So many times I have had to close my eyes, breathe deeply, and ask God for help to say whatever it is, again. And again. And again. Gak.

MrSponsorPants has a post today, with a great quote from his first sponsor as to the nature of the alcoholic ego:

http://mrsponsorpants.typepad.com/mr_sponsorpants/

Those of us intimately acquainted with an alcoholic can attest to the truth of that. A program friend jokes that every now and then, she wishes for a cattle prod, so she could just give one little teeny tiny zap with it - zzzzzt! Just to get their attention. I laugh each time she says it, because I can indentify so strongly with the feelings behind it.

No rest for the wicked; but hey, what about the rest of us?

Common Sayings.

"We're just like family."

To most people, that means the workplace/church/sports team/hobby club is a wonderful positive place. But not for all. Last night, my spouse and I were sprawled in the livingroom, totally done in after a day of working on the house, watching a home-renovation show. (One-track minds these days...) The crew kept saying that - "We're just like family!" After a while, my spouse turned to me, and grinning, said, "Well, if that's the case, I'm glad I don't work there!"

As the result of our childhoods, we both have stong negative associations with the word "family."

It caused me to think about how often we use that sort of shorthand communication in daily life, to express an involved concept, and just assume that our listener defines that phrase the same way and therefore, understands our meaning.

Al-Anon was the first place it was demonstrated to me, that this is a faulty assumption. Some of us are skilled at pretending, but the reality is a far distant place. If I don't check in with my listener, and allow room for their reality in our conversation, I may come away thinking that there's only one interpretation of our encounter, and they go thinking there's only the other, and the two bear no resemblance.

True communication requires that we allow the other to speak their truth, and endeavor to be sufficiently open-minded to hear it. I know I had a tendency to just dismiss whatever didn't fit my worldview, when I was new to program.

Al-Anon teaches me to accept that difference, honor it, and allow it to educate me. This does not mean that I'm required to shift my position with each wind that comes along; bending gently makes me stronger and more able to withstand those more powerful winds which would try to uproot me.

If I'm Tired Enough, I Don't Worry.

One of the selling features for me with this house, was the incredible amount of natural light - each room has big windows on at least two walls. Even on the grayest of days, it's light inside. I've always loved that about it, but it makes window washing a day-long chore. Between that, and laundering window treatments, I'm feeling done in tonight. For some reason, I feel compelled to get this prep work done as quickly as possible.  It must be my Higher Power's nudging.

I read in the ODAT today about being aware of my finer qualities, as well as my shortcomings. I like that. Too much dwelling on what I don't like about myself, puts me into a negative frame of mind. An Al-Anon friend says: "What we feed, grows." I feel this is very true for me. If I feed negativity and self-dislike, I encourage it to grow from a small sprout, to an invasive plant, which sends out tendrils everywhere, tangling itself into all aspects of my daily life, and becoming more stubborn and resistant to uprooting.

Concentrating upon my shortcomings was habitual for me, for very many years. It has been no small task to try to shift my point of reference to a more pleasant view of myself. Habit prevails; let me work to achieve a habit of positivity.

Listening For God's Will.

From the ODAT, page 294:

"I may be ready to submit to God's guidance, I may humbly ask for it, but along with being willing I must coperate by doing my part. If I am truly receptive, He will make His will known to me step by step, each day, but I must carry it out.


Sometimes, I've asked for God's guidance, and been completely unwilling to hear the reply, because it may have been the opposite of what I'd hoped for. Al-Anon has taught me that if I fight my Higher Power's will, I invite frustration and misery into my life.

My ex used to play a game with his girls, where he'd gently put his hand on their chests, stretch his (rather long) arm to full extension, and then hold them out there, while they gamely tried with all their strength to push themselves closer. This game was always played with much wild giggling laughter - they just loved it, and would ask, "Daddy let's play the arm game!"

I've had times in my life where I feel like I've been out at the end of God's arm, being gently held back from whatever it was. But I wasn't laughing, and I wasn't enjoying myself; I was furiously sullen and resentful. I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it, and if life didn't go my way, I was a terrible sulker.

Al-Anon has taught me surrender to God's will, but it has also taught me to listen carefully for His guidance as to the work He wants me to do, to achieve my goal. He will help, but He isn't going to do it for me, while I lie around peeling grapes and giving orders.