Let There Be No Gossip Or Criticism...

One of the many reasons I wanted to move back to the city, was the variety of social life that is offered in such abundance here - one can find a group of like-minded people interested in gardening, books, hiking, cooking, or a specific breed of dog.

I joined one such group, and am enjoying myself enormously. The only jarring note, is the odd mild little criticism of one another tossed off, labelled as a joke. It grates on the ear, when one is used to Al-Anon groups.  So far, when someone does this, I've been responding with a comment along the lines of: "I really like so-and-so, I find him/her delightful/interesting/funny/great company." Or, if I'm feeling really brave, "I don't like to criticise other people, because I've got so many faults of my own, that I stay busy just trying to keep them in check."

Truth is, that second comment rather burst out of me, when I was cornered by someone determined to fill me, the newcomer, in on how she saw each and every member of the group - I had tried fending her off with changes of subject, but she was a juggernaut, and rolled right over my rather feeble attempts, until I desperately
came out with that one, and she stopped talking, looked me in the eye for the first time, and abruptly did a complete about-face, and began to tell me everyone's good characteristics. I relaxed, sipped my decaff and thanked my Higher Power. This woman hasn't offered me any criticisms since that time, for which I'm truly grateful. I guess I made it clear that I didn't want to hear it.

I've been thinking about this lately, and how that one reminder, "...but let there be no gossip or criticsm of one another..." helps to make our meetings, and our groups, a safe place for all of us.

My grandfather had a saying: "If they'll do it with you, they'll do it to you."

I've found that to be a pretty accurate way to look at these sorts of things, and it makes clear for me, who is safe, and who is unsafe. If a person will criticise and condemn other people to me, then they will criticise and condemn me to other people. I keep my distance from those people, choosing instead to make friends from the wide group of those who look to the good, and focus upon the positive.

We had two of those members of the group over to our house for dinner last night, and it was a wonderful evening of discussion and laughter, with not a single criticism passed all night. My kind of fun.

Pressure.

For many co-dependents, other people's opinions can be like a tide against which it is difficult to sustain our footing. For some of us, it's family members who push and pull at us, wanting us to behave in the way they decide we should. They make judgements about our situation and choices, and feel no compunction whatsoever about stating these, clearly, and often. Others have spouses, friends, or coworkers who do the same thing.

It can be somewhat of a balancing act to maintain our serenity while not allowing other people's opinions to affect our decisions.

How do we remember why we made a particular choice, when we are being buffeted by the opinions of others? (Others who may have a vested interest in our changing our minds.)

Write it down. Choose a time when you won't be interrupted, sit quietly, and then write down exactly why you are making this choice for yourself. Be blunt. Put it down exactly as it comes from your deepest self. Make it as direct and as uncompromising as possible, because you're going to need that clarity later on. 

Take this piece of paper and put it into a safe place. There might be a day when you truly can not remember why you made this choice, and the only person who can remind you, is you.

When you are being swayed by another person's opinion, or by pressure of any sort, whether loving or angry, you will be able to go find your piece of paper, and remind yourself - right, that's why I chose this.

If nothing has changed, you can put it away again, take a deep breath, and go on as before, secure in the knowledge that this is the best for you, and what other people think/say/feel about it, doesn't have to sway your decisions.

We can respect each other without allowing ourselves to be manipulated.

For those of us who know we are susceptible to pressure from outside ourselves, this little reminder can be incredibly helpful.

I've used this myself, and it was amazing to me how powerful it was, to read my own words stating my reasons for my life choice. I was instantly grounded: re-energised to choose the best for myself: able to withstand what as an old AA guy used to describe as "just a bit of breeze." This man had been sober for many years by the time I met him in an open AA meeting, and that was how he described other people's efforts to convince him to do something against his better judgement; he joked that he would smile, and shut his ears off, and then the air coming from their mouths was no longer words, it was "just a bit of breeze."

I loved that. I've had times in my life when I've been about to speak, and that has popped into my head, and I've decided to remain silent, because I didn't think I needed to be contributing a bit of breeze.

Write it down, put it into a safe place, and then you have it when you need it, when you are being blown about, swept back and forth in the gale winds of pressure from others.

Think of this writing as a gift you are giving to a future you.

Faith Knocking On The Door - Am I Out?

This morning I was awakened by a loud pounding on the front door - the dogs erupted, and I leapt out of bed and rushed to see what all the commotion was about. It was a Jehovah's Witness, wanting to proslytise me. When I'm awake and this happens, I will firmly state that I consider this an invasion of my privacy, and would they please note down this address as a no-go zone, but having not had my first coffee of the day, I refused (far more politely than I wanted to,) and closed the door.

A short while later, I read this in Courage to Change. page 117:
"Many of us need time to come to terms with the spiritual nature of the Al-Anon program. If we were required to believe in a Higher Power in order to participate in Al-Anon, we might never have continued to attend meetings. Eventually, many of us do come to believe in a Higher Power because we are free to come to our own understanding in our own time. That way, whatever we learn will have meaning for us."

Reaching Out.

I hated the idea of calling anyone and telling them I was in need, when I was new to program. I had done it all by myself up until then, and I was going to continue doing it all by myself, until one day I heard someone at a meeting laughingly comment about this same thing, and realised I wasn't alone in that, either.

Breaking through the facade can be terrifying: feel shameful, to those of us who've lived with a false front as long as we can remember. But as the program reminds us, if we continue to do what we've always done, we'll get what we've always gotten.

So reach out - give another program member the chance to help by listening, and sharing their experience, strength, and hope - they may need the exercise as much as you do, and when you call, they gain as much, if not more, from the encounter as you do.

Numbing Out.

From Courage to Change:

"When I came to Al-Anon, I didn't feel. When I lost a job, I said, "No problem, I can take it." When had a child, I said, "No big deal, just another day." Nothing moved me at all. It was like being dead."

When I first came into Al-Anon, I couldn't weep - not one tear, not even a hint of moisture - if I was terribly upset, I might get the lump in the throat, then the door to my feelings would slam closed, the steel barrier plummet down, and numbness would result.

I considered that a very good thing, because I didn't feel my feelings for more than a short time before I'd go numb. It was like flicking a switch to the off position.

I was in Al-Anon for quite some time before I began to try to figure out how that process worked, so I could try to catch it in the early stages, and not go there automatically. I discovered that I had a mantra of sorts, which I'd begin to say to myself repeatedly, and that started the chain which ended in numbness.

In program I learned that by numbing out the "negative" feelings, I made an unendurable situation (my first marriage) endurable. That  realisation was of a magnitude I had trouble grasping - I remember going through my daily round in a bit of a daze, after that conversation with my sponsor. I was unable to think of anything else, stunned at how my own reactions, worked against me.

I've reached the stage in life where I'm a sentimental fool - I can get misty-eyed at nothing much, but oh the joy that's possible when one is this opened up! Miraculous.  I laugh a lot. My entrenched character defects have gone from something shameful, to a source of laughter, when I realise that once again, I'm doing this-and-such, and now need to make an amend. I used to wriggle and squirm about my amends - now I make them willingly, humbly, with a full heart, grateful that I have this amazing program to help light my way.

I will never be perfect.  As a program friend once remarked, "I've decided not to aim for the Personality Olympics this year."

I loved that; it stayed with me as a reminder to give myself a break now and then, allow myself to be merely human. I cannot do what isn't humanly possible, and my best is good enough.

Other People's Anger, con't.

One more post on this topic, and then I'll go on to something else.
I woke up today thinking about how I was trained to accept raging as a normal part of family life. I was trained from childhood to cringe away, but to keep silent, for fear of bringing down upon myself, something far worse than just screaming and shouting and hurtful words - hitting.

I think this played a part in my acceptance of my first husband's rages - they were "only words." It was "only shouting." At least he didn't hit me. He'd pushed me a few times, but stopped short of any other physical violence, and compared to the batterings I'd endured as a child, shouting and stomping and nasty words seemed more tolerable, and milder.

From today's point of view, I realise that this attitude of mine was tied to the poor and tattered thing that was my self-image. I didn't like the way he treated me, but it was just more of the same way that people had been treating me all of my life, and I felt helpless to change this. I had no understanding of how people relate to each other, because I'd never been taught.

Al-Anon taught me how to love myself. Al-Anon was the first place in which I encountered the idea that I have value merely for existing upon this earth. I didn't have to do, be, say, or produce anything to have value - I have inherent value. That was truly a long struggle to accept and believe - I had to let go of everything I'd ever been told about myself, all the negative labels slapped upon me, and sworn as truth, all the abusive controlling painful words used to describe my character and nature - I had to decide to hand them over to my Higher Power, and start afresh, making my own.

When I finally could accept and embrace my inherent worth, I was no longer willing to accept. or minimise, the verbal and emotional abuse dished out upon a daily basis, by my first husband.

I had learned that this was unacceptable behavior: that I had the choice of refusing to tolerate it. My spirit finally rebelled against it, when I truly honestly knew that I deserved better.

That's the process. Some come to it quickly, some of us are slower to arrive. But if we continue in Twelve Step, we will all get there eventually.

I reached the point where I wanted my husband to treat me with the same love, consideration and respect my fellow Al-Anon members did - all of the time, not just when he wasn't furious. He used his anger as a weapon and a bludgeon and a release valve for stress, and a driving force. I couldn't live with it, finally. Al-Anon taught me that I didn't have to.

During the honeymoon phase, he used to tell me that no-one else would ever love me the way he did. I knew I had reached the point of no return, the day I found myself replying, "And thank God for that!"

Other People's Anger, con't.

Those who have never been exposed to domestic abuse of any kind, can have great difficulty in understanding the dynamic involved.

Most of us don't start out with our partners shrieking ragefully at us, we start out with a small trampling of our boundaries, perhaps only an apparently offhand hurtful commet, which we excuse and minimise. This gives the abuser the information that they can "get away" with at least that much. The next time, it's a little bit worse. Again, we excuse, minimise, forgive, deny. Gradually, in this way, does the cycle progress, with the abusive behavior slowly gaining ground, and the victim slowly being backed away from an position of equality with the spouse.

Denial plays a big part in this. It's our own denial which makes us turn our faces away from the truth, and refuse to gaze fully upon the fact that we are being treated cruelly, with a complete lack of respect.

Also, in between the explosions of verbal, emotional and/or physical abuse, is the "honeymoon phase."

That's the time in which the abuser sets out to smooth away our understanding of the reality, to charm and lull us into believing that which we want so desperately to believe - he will never ever do this again, things are going to be different from now on, that was the last time, he's come to his senses, he truly understands now, he sees the light, he doesn't know what came over him, he is under stress from the business, but that is going to change, he adores us, he is yada yada yada.

We are like fish, and he is slowly, gently, lovingly, carefully, reeling us in.

When we love, we want to believe.
When we love, we want to be generous and forgiving.
We want to give another chance.
We want to offer room to move and grow.
We acquiesce in our own destruction.

At some point we reach our internal Rubicon, cross it, and there is no way back to what was. The abuser often senses this, and will redouble his entreaties to be given just one more chance, don't we love him? Don't we care about our families? How can we just throw away all these years together?

When we have made a decision, we will not stick to it, unless we accept ahead of time that we are going to be bombarded with efforts to change our mind, and decide that nothing the abuser says will make us decide otherwise.

Sometimes the only way to stop this, is to remove ourselves from the room, or our home - take the dog for a walk, take the kids out, go out ourselves.

Sometimes we need to explain to our partner that if he is willing to seek help to stop the abuse, we will entertain the possibility of us living together again in future, but that for now, we are going to be living separately. That's what I did - I left the door slightly open. Once I was out, and living alone, the relief and feeling of safety from those verbal attacks was so great that I knew I would never be willing to live with him again, regardless of how he changed, and I sought a permanent end to the marriage.

The "honeymoon phase" is a classic sign of abuse, and I've heard counsellors speak of how some women couldn't classify their marriages as abusive by what was said during the explosion, but recognised the honeymoon phase immediately when it was explained to them. They'd heard the promises, seen the demonstrations of loving sincerity, dismantled their boundaries in that phase, and found themselves quickly back in the cycle again.

With no lasting consquences, the abuser will not change.

The victim of the abuse can affect change in an abusive relationship, and we do that, when we decide that we have had enough.

Until that time, we will go around endlessly on that downward spiral of tension, explosion, honeymoon/tension, explosion, honeymoon.

I had to reach a place where I could remember the abusive phase with utter clarity, and superimpose his raging face, upon the soft loving face turned towards me during the honeymoon phase. I had to choose to remember, rather than choose to forget.

My choice.