Clinging To Misery.

I cannot change the past. All the hand-wringing, lamenting, obsessing and examination of people's motives, behavior and reasoning will not make an iota of difference.

My choice is what do I do with today, since that's the only small moment of time I have been given. Do I stay shut up inside my house of self, blinds drawn, doors locked and double-locked and dead-bolted and reinforced, with only my insane thinking for company?

Or do I step out into the sunlight, blinking furiously against the assault upon my vision, but trusting that if I just relax and allow change to occur, my eyes will adjust, and I'll be able to see without pain?

I used to wield my past miseries both as a sheild against intimacy, and a weapon of manipulation. My choices, if challenged, were held up against the backdrop of my past; until my first sponsor, no-one had ever felt able to point out that I used my past as justification for my inappropriate behavior.

At some point in recovery, I had to begin to take responsibility today for the choices I made today. That meant letting go of all that had been done to me. I couldn't even get close to the concept of forgiveness at that stage, nor could I grasp the necessity for letting go - but I did trust my sponsor, and I was willing to try what she suggested.

Which was that I make the effort to try working the Steps, rather than just give them lip service.

In Al-Anon, I've come to the realisation that as I think, I am. If I give hours of head-room to past miseries: if I stew in that poisonous brew of rage and bitterness, I will feel dispirited, wretched and afflicted.

I was not Miss Sunshine overnight - there was a prolonged period of stubborn resistance before I was willing to capitulate to program wisdom, and sometimes I think I only ever did "give in" because I was so exhausted by the fight.

So much of Al-Anon is life-wisdom, not just wisdom in dealing with an alcoholic, but a way to live all the other parts of our lives mindfully, and with joy.

That's how I see the Steps and Traditions - as a map to a better way of life. But just like any other map, if I open it, read the directions, then close it, set it aside, and blunder off back the way I came, I won't arrive anywhere different.

I can't blame the map if I refuse to follow it, now can I?

Breakthroughs.

I had a major breakthrough in painting today; it's tremendously exciting.

I'd been working on a floral still life, and couldn't get my vision down on the paper. I'd overworked one group of blossoms, and that is a painting-killer in watercolor - once you've overworked an area, you can't get it back to the fresh and pristine look, and the more one fiddles with bandaid fixes, the deader the thing becomes.

Utterly maddening medium, watercolor.

I'd moved on to another area of the piece, a larger bloom, feeling inhibited by the fear that I was going to overwork it too, trying to make it behave. I was feeling stymied and disheartened.

I mixed a color for shadows, began to apply it, and realised it was about 3-4 times darker than I thought it should be, but I was so frustrated, I didn't care - I just kept slapping it onto that flower. The painting was a disaster anyway. I went so far as to darken some areas even further, feeling like a kid who deliberately wrecks a toy when thwarted.

Suddenly, between one brushstroke and another of that rich, dark color, that blossom stood up and practically waved at me, it was so lively. I stopped painting, and sat transfixed, looking from it to the dead, overworked area, astonished to realise that my loose and haphazard application of paint had brought the flower to life.

I got it. I saw it all laid out before me; where I'd gone wrong, and why it was working now. Once I comprehended it, I was amazed at my inability to perceive it before that moment - it was so obvious!

Understandings in Al-Anon can follow this same path for me. I'm like a remote-control car run up against the wall, backing up and smacking into it repeatedly, in an effort to make the wall move. It can take me a fair amount of time and a sore skull, before I'll try heading in another direction, and some of the best results have been happy accidents, like this flower was today.

Writing this, I realise that what happened, is that I gave up control over the painting. I admitted I was powerless. I let go. And in that letting go, I was sufficiently loosened up and uncaring of the outcome, that I could just look -  from the flower to the page, and slap down the shapes I saw before me.

Letting go is powerful, because I am, in effect, telling my ego,

"Oh, just go sit down over there and shut up, will you please?"

Without my ego yammering away in my inner ear, I can relax, and see with a different lens. It's truly a life-changing tool for me. I was giddy with delight when I finished this painting, small insignificant thing that it is, because now I'm looking at everything as light and shadows, instead of "a particular type of flower."

I was doing yoga exercises tonight, thinking about how to paint the yellow pepper I bought to put into tomorrow night's dinner salad - imagine the beautiful shadows on that. Or a Streptocarpus leaf, all velvety veins and curving rim. Or my little dog, lyingwhere the sun is streaming through the patio door and highlighting the fur along her spine. I can't wait to get started.

Setting Aside Judgement.

From the ODAT, page 87:

"I will guard against looking for flaws in others; I will try to see what is good in them."

Given the appropriate state of mind, I am always able to find some supremely irritating aspect of my fellow human beings - this one talks too much, that one has a habit of snorting when he laughs, this one is homophobic, that one is passive-aggressive...when I'm looking, I can find any number of human frailties upon which to seize, and judge the owner accordingly.

I believe that I got started doing this, because that's what was modeled to me in childhood. That's a reason, not an excuse. There's a world of difference between the two. A reason is a "basis or cause;" an excuse is a "pretext or subterfuge." (Subterfuge, what a great word.)

When I look within to find out why I do what I do, I'm searching for the reason, and I can use that self-knowledge to more fully understand the workings of my character. When I use that knowledge to justify continuing along that same path, I'm making excuses for myself, and I will not grow.

Why is it so easy to sit in judgement of others, and so damnably difficult to have clarity about myself? Denial, shame, embarassment all play a part.

When I'm willing to ride out the shame or embarassment, invariably what I find on the other side is humour - the ability to laugh at myself and my foolish, stubborn, human frailties.

That ability to see myself with affectionate humour, is a gift of the program that I cherish.It's another glorious day here, and I'm content. May you be, also.

Silence, And Compromises.

I love silence - revel in it, delight in it, bathe in it, rest in it. All the years of screeching voices in childhood and early adulthood, left me with a longing, and need, for silence.

I play music in my car, but at home rarely play music unless I'm engaged in artwork, and then it's usually classical. Before I was married, I used to play music often at home. Now I'm so grateful for silence when I'm alone, that it doesn't occur to me. This is a direct result of my spouse being someone who uses the tv as a background noise. (I use the word "noise" in the full sense of the word - a cacophony, clamor, tumult, uproar.)

Over the years, we've come to a few compromises about this, and it's more bearable than it was, but were it up to me, the darn thing would never get turned on. I wouldn't have one, if it were up to me. I didn't have one, when I lived alone. I'm an avid reader, so for me, the tv has always been a poor substitute for any book.

I have no control over the fact that my spouse is an avid television watcher, who can sit for hours in the evenings, watching "the best of the worst," as he descibes it. If the sound of the tv maddens me, I can get up and come to my workroom.

Relationships require compromise - no two people are going to agree on all the minutiae of life. My task is to work those compromises, without subtly sending a message that I'm compromising like anything, even though I know my way of relaxing/training the dogs/insert activity, is superior.

It's very interesting just how many forms of non-verbal communication are consumately effective at passing that message - sighing, a too-cheery tone of voice, eye contact held a micro-second too long - all ways to get our import across, and still be able to exclaim in pseudo-surprise, "What? What?" when the other person protests this, as some braver souls will.

That's where the "When you ____, I feel _____." statements are so useful. We aren't accusing, blaming, or controlling, if all we are doing is being direct about how we feel when the other person repeatedly gives dramatic sighs which wouldn't be out of place in a Shakespeare performance, while fufilling their part of a compromise, to which they willingly agreed.

But what we must not do, is use the statement to tell the other person they are in the wrong, as in "When you sigh like that, I feel like you are mocking me." That's telling the other person what they are doing. Anything after the word "feel" in one of these sentences, must be a feeling, for this to work. And it does work, astoundingly well, most likely because we aren't attacking or blaming, we're just saying where we're at. So:

"When you sigh like that, I feel irritated." Or frustrated, embarassed, ashamed, guilty, whatever the emotion is, name it, and then leave it alone.

(Don't try this with an intoxicated alcoholic, or you might get the response I did from my first husband, who replied firmly, "Well,  just don't feel that way, and you'll be fine."
I went and called my sponsor.)

I didn't want to believe I was powerless over others, but when I did slowly begin to accept that reality, then I needed some new skills with which to cope with my life and my relationships. Compromise was not a skill in my repertoire, and it felt ungainly and wierd trying it out, but the more I did it, the easier it became - so it goes.

Nowadays, I stop to consider "How Important Is It?" Many times, in truth, most of the time, it isn't important at all. I've just gotten stuck on it, like a slowly-moving car on a large speedbump, and I need a bit of gas to get me up and over, to continue my progress.

Because I am so much more willing to compromise, when I do have a point beyond which I'm not able to go, it's usually respected by the other person. Not always, this isn't a perfect world, but usually.
I can live with that.

The Last Word.

We all know those who have to have it. Nothing else matters, but being the last voice speaking. Get two of these individuals together, and the conversation can spiral into a ridiculous battle of wills, in which each combatant is determined to have the last word.

I've heard some jaw-droppingly silly encounters along these lines, and in my first marriage, used to lie in bed at night,and hear my ex and his very best friend out in the kitchen, bellowing at each other - both alcoholic, both just had to be right - so their conversations would, especially when they were both looped, devolve into the adult equivalent of "Did not!" "Did so!" endlessly repeated, in a struggle to ... have the last word.

I used to pride myself on the fact that I wasn't anywhere near that ridiculous. Until I joined Al-Anon, and discovered that I was equally as controlling, although my encounters may not have sounded quite so foolish on the surface. (Or maybe they did, and I'm just remembering through the proverbial pink eyewear.)

I too, was determined to win any conflict in which I was engaged.

I recall a member speaking about a term she'd learned in marital counselling: "right-fighting." This was defined by the counsellor, as an iron determination to be "right" at the expense of all else. No matter if the relationship suffered, and communication was stifled or cut off, being right was all that mattered to the combatants.

In Al-Anon, I learned that when I feel that irritation rising in my chest, it is time to sit back: close my mouth: let go, and let God. I am entitled to my opinions, but I am assuredly not entitled to force-feed them to anyone else on this planet: not family members, not the poor "deluded" alcoholic.

I learned that when I assign a label such as "deluded" to another human being, that's the first step down a path which leads to controlling behavior. I've had to detach from my emotions somewhat, before I could get sufficient perspective to recognise how this pattern of behavior runs for me. It doesn't begin with the first remark I make, it has its origins further back than that - back to when I assign a label to the other. It's the label which gives me justification to control - no label, no justification.

This may be as simple as thinking, "Oh you're so stubborn!" If I can view you under that label of "intractable," I can then feel quite justified in yammering on at you about how wrong you are, because I'm only trying to help you to be more reasonable.

If you weren't so _________,  I wouldn't need to be so ________.

In this way did I make the other responsible for my conduct. If I was a hounding shrew, it was because the alcoholic made me into one. I needed to think that way in order to maintain my victimhood.

In Al-Anon, I have learned that I may not pick and choose which parts of my life I will be responsible for - my life is my problem only. This may feel frightening, or  overwhelming, but if I am not willing to take on the responsibility for my own life, I will go to my grave a frustrated and unhappy woman.

I spent too many years being a victim. I want to live fully, and joyfully. I need a steady intake of program wisdom to keep me balanced on the rails. I haven't the right to tell anyone else that they need this, but I know I do.

Mental Hoarding.

I was visiting a friend, and the tv was on, one of those shows popular at the moment, about hoarding. She joked with me that she liked them because she felt like a certain home-making celebrity in comparison. I replied that I could recall when the inside of my head felt a lot like the inside of some of the featured dwellings - layer upon layer of old, mouldering, rotting stuff.

It consisted of attitudes that no longer fit me, but which I couldn't let go of, for fear I might be able to use them again: grudges from times past: old hurts, resentments, angers...all layered haphazardly upon one another, in ever-increasing piles, which tilted and wobbled dangerously, and made navigation problematic.

As a mental hoarder, I'd made my abode cramped, cluttered, and perilous.

From Hope for Today, page 111:

"Al-Anon has shown me that the answer lies not in letting go of people but in letting go of my outworn, painful thinking patterns to change into a more positive person."

And: "Letting go of what I do not truly need - whether it be old thoughts, things, or behaviors - makes room for new growth in my life."

"...what I do not truly need..." is, for me, the most significant phrase in that second quote. At one time, my old thoughts and behaviors may have been coping mechanisms which got me through difficult junctures in my life, but is that all I wish for myself, to continue to "get through?"

Wouldn't I prefer to flourish? Absolutely, I would. Well, then, that's another thing entirely; that requires sustained effort, and a good mental spring-cleaning. This is where Steps 4-9 come into play. It's all laid out for me, the "how." All I need to provide is the impetus, the momentum, the willingness, the desire. I must want the growth and change, more than I want the security of the mental clutter.

Procrastination - Ohhhh, I'll Do That Later.

Slogging through the tax return the last few days, I'm grateful to have learned in Al-Anon that procrastination only adds to tomorrow, a discomfort I could erase today.

My first sponsor used to say "Put it off, and suffer the tortures of the damned in expectation of how dreadful it will be, or just do the damn thing now, get it over with, and have your freedom, woman!"

I much prefer the latter. I cannot bear to have something hanging over my head waiting to be done - tainting my mood and weighing on my mind. This is very late in the year for me to be doing the taxes - I've usually got them done a week after I get the form in the mail. But this year, I just haven't had the time until now to do them.

I had a wonderful day today - got to play in the garden with good friends, did some volunteer work which made me feel useful and satisfied, and arriving back home, had a choice - work on the taxes, or paint? I decided on the taxes, because the sooner they are finished, the sooner I can relax, and devote some time to pleasurable pursuits.

I know I could pay someone else to do them, but I still have some control freak tendencies left, and this is one of them - I like to do my own taxes.

Earlier this evening, I was standing out on the deck while the dogs wandered the yard. I was admiring the magnolia tree next door which is just beginning to bloom, and feeling a quietly powerful gratitude for my life and all my blessings. Not even the tax return could dim my positive feelings.

I was talking to a woman today about envy - which is a horridly poisonous emotion, in my opinion, because it robs the bearer of the ability to see the good in their life - they see only the lack. I speak from experience - I was envious to my bones when I came into program, because I felt so victimised and martyred - it only made sense that other people's lives were far superior to mine in every way.

I felt I had been given a raw deal in life, right from the start, and there's a great deal of truth to that, but from this vantage point, what of it? Was I willing to let the rest of my life slip past unnoticed, unlived, while I seethed with envy for what others had, and I did not?

I had no concept of how to move past this, and it took years of hard work and my Higher Power's grace, for me to be content with what I was given as my share. I have learned to be appreciative for my blessings.

I've learned to see the green unfurling voluptousness of spring as a delight in which I can revel and rejoice.

I can sit reading, with a small warm dog curled up inside my sweater, her head shoved down one sleeve, snoring gently, her breath tickling my arm, and feel fortunate to be graced with this loving funny dog as a gift each day. 

I've learned to let go of my expectations that others be perfect according to my statutes, and make the effort to try to see life from another point of view.

I still have the odd instance, usually when I'm in HALT, when the martyred victimhood voice will start nattering away at me again, about how if only I was granted a 17 zillion dollar win from the lottery, I could yada yada yada, but the truth of it is, I can only wear one garment at a time, I can only drive one vehicle, I can only live one life. And this is the life I've been granted.

How do I choose to spend my time? Complaining about what I haven't been given, or thanking my Higher Power for all that I have? It seems to me that any time that snarky little voice starts up nowadays, I get a good cosmic slap upside the head along the lines of:  Feeling ripped off?  You could be suffering from this - or this - or this...and I will feel ashamed for my ingratitude. I try not to bash myself too much about it, just accept the lesson thankfully, and put the reminder into practise.