So It Begins.

I had my first radiation treatment today. It was all over in a matter of minutes; I was finished before realising that they'd started.

It was painless,  but I'm told that with the attending "sunburning" of the skin which will occur, I may suffer further pain on top of what I'm now experiencing.

Last night I spent some time cleaning my glass collection, polishing the beautiful golds and reds and purples. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for my friends, my lover Robert, my sister: who cares for me, and is struggling with her own pain about it all, and my brother, who adores the painting I made for him, which he received yesterday, finally.

I miss my meetings so much, but am too ill to attend them. When someone comments here on my blog, it feels a little bit like a meeting, and I am truly grateful for your input, please know that, and keep talking to me!

I'm hoping that my fight over this cancer will succeed enough for me to go back to a more normal form of life, with meetings, and social encounters, and gardening. I'm feeling like I may be able to beat this one back enough to have some more life granted to me. I'm too young, and unwilling to accept dying yet. I want to live.

Other People's Feelings

I grew up believing that it was my job to make other people happy, however that could be managed, and I tried to do so, even if it meant that the outer me was smiling and pleasant while the true, inner me seethed with resentment, judged, blamed, and felt I was being used.

I've slowly, sometimes at a snail's pace, been able to let go of most of my people-pleasing. A newcomer approached me after a recent meeting, to ask if I'd sponsor her. It wasn't until afterwards that I realised that I'd stopped to consider carefully if I felt physically or emotionally up to the job. I don't want to do her a disservice by not being able to offer her the time she may need, but I also don't want to take on, that which is beyond my capabilities because of my health challenges.

I will be seeing the oncologist tomorrow to find out whether or not they are going to offer me another 12 rounds of chemo. If they offer, I will accept. I've been supremely fortunate in not having had much in the way of side effects, and if it can extend my life, I'd like that. I still have many yards of fabric, with plans for the garments I can make, with all those lovely materials, and patterns.

I also have lots of paintings I'd like to do.

Last week, Robert was talking to a friend who lives with alcoholism, and is miserable, but whom, after having been taken to his first meeting by Robert, didn't choose to continue with Al-Anon. I feel for him, but was astonished to hear that he had dismissed a remark made by Robert about how good it feels to accomplish goals, even the smaller kind, with a contemptuous: "People don't set goals!"

I thought that was sad. I know I get enormous pleasure from achieving my goals, whether they may be to: create a painting: make myself a coat, or other garment:  clean my apartment until it sparkles and gleams. There are many times, and many areas in which I set a goal for myself.

Before Al-Anon, my goals were mostly to change another person in some way - show them the error of their ways, perhaps, or make them feel better.

I believe that we cannot change the feelings of another person. I also believe that we don't have to be slaves to either our own feelings, or the feelings of someone else, even if that someone is a loved one.

We can detach, allow them to have their feelings without blaming, for as long as they need to work it out. While we are waiting for them to come back to a even keel, we can be doing what gives us pleasure and satisfaction.

It used to be for me, that if  a loved one was angry, I was distressed until I could "make" them happy again. I felt it was my fault if they were upset, that I needed to "fix" it, that somehow it was my problem.  I can recall my shock the first time my first sponsor said to me, "It's not your problem, stay out of it."

Stay out of it? But I had so many great ideas about how to fix it!

That makes me laugh now, the arrogance inherent in that thinking, but I was oblivious to it at the time. I merely thought I wanted to be helpful; I was unaware of my controlling.

I'm learning that everyone has the right to their own feelings, and that it is neither my responsibility nor a chore I wish to take on, to make anyone but myself happy

My main goal in life is achieving serenity.

More Treatment

I saw an oncologist on Tuesday of this week, and she said that because I'm responding so well to the treatment, and tolerating it so well, also, that they are considering another twelve rounds of chemo as soon as the present batch is complete.

I'm feeling fine with that prospect. For me, chemo has not been the horror story I had been led to expect, from all the reading and listening to stories about "My aunt had cancer, and when she was in chemo it was awful, it aged her terribly, she was sick all the time, etc etc."

In the last year or so, I have noticed that whenever some people find out that one is facing a procedure, they will immediately begin reciting every horror story  that they, or anyone they've talked to has ever heard.  I was hugely fortunate, in that a friend in program whom I love and admire, had undergone one of the same major operations I was facing, and she had me over to her place to talk all about it, show me the scars, explain what to expect, what might hurt, what might be an improvement over the results of the first operation, and a few other things.

When I got back home that afternoon, Robert took one look at me, and said, "You look much better." I told him that this time with my friend had removed about 80% of the fear I'd had about that particular part of the second operation. And it has proven to be quite true, it's nothing as negative as some told me it would be, and it is a relief after the results of the first operation, which was most definitely not a success.

Had I not had her experience strength and hope, I would have been much more frightened, and some studies have seemed to suggest that the better of a headspace one is in before a procedure, the better one is able to deal with it, and any side effects.

One oncologist told me that she thought that chemo was about 10% medical, and 90% mental. I find that I have been able to go through it with gratitude, peace and joy, for my life, and time with my beloved, wonderful Robert.

When I was still so upset about the call from my ex, and obsessing as to how he had managed to secure my unlisted number, I called up my first sponsor here, and asked if I could come to talk? She immediately and warmly agreed, and I went to spend an hour and a half with her wisdom and support. When we hugged goodbye before I left, we were both a little choked up and teary. We have talked a few times about her unfortunate comment, and my over-reaction to it, but have put it down to just a misunderstanding, and agreed this time to resume working through the new 4th Step workbook, "Reaching For Personal Freedom"

We had barely started with it, when the misunderstanding took place, but I find that I miss the meetings with her, talking and laughing. My new sponsor is a great help to me, and I enjoy and appreciate her enormously. That doesn't mean I can't also enjoy and appreciate my first sponsor, and spend time in her company. We may not consider it a sponsor-sponsee relationship, but I'm thinking that it's in name only - the sharing of experience, strength and hope is all still there.

Knowing that I have people to whom I can turn, during difficult times in my life, has been a blessing for which I am continually, deeply grateful. And I truly believe that the practise of gratitude transforms our lives in ways we cannot imagine when we first start to try to work it.

Some Days Are Better Than Others.

I was listening to an Al-Anon speaker yesterday, while I was making soup and seasoning a new wok, and have been thinking about one comment he made. He said that working the program doesn't mean that we won't feel pain or suffer during the stressful periods in our lives, it means that we have tools with which to deal with life's trials and tribulations.

Some of life's trials won't go away. We endure health problems, as I have done recently, and after the treatment, our body doesn't work in the same effortless way it used to. I've been very fortunate, but there have been changes, and I need to live with them, since I've no other choice. Some days, I can accept and let go. Occasionally, I'll have a bad night, as I did last night, with patchy sleep and physical complaints, and wake up feeling down, as I did this morning.

I'm feeling grumpy and dis-satisfied and in need of a spiritual boost. I know I'll get it when I go to the office operating committee meeting this afternoon. I'll see my sponsor and other members of my home group, women I love dearly, who make me laugh, give me hope, and life my spirits when I'm already happy. When I'm feeling a little down, as I am today, they are a lifeline to regaining my usual good mood.

Robert is out at the moment, but I know that when he returns, he will smile at me, and I will feel the comfort and blessing of his love for me, and mine for him, and my gratitude for the blessings in my life will dissipate this touch of melancholy, like wood smoke on the breeze.

In Al-Anon, I'm learning not to panic when my mood shifts occasionally. For many years, I was afraid of my feelings of pain or sorrow, because I feared that there might come a day when they wouldn't end. Now, I am aware that they are a part of me that can be acknowledged, accepted, and released.

This too, shall pass.

A Year Later.

My dear friend died last year on May 17th, today. I woke up this morning remembering, and wept for the loss of him. Seems like every song I put on reminds me of some aspect of his character. He was wonderfully confident and caring and the people in his life flourished in the light of that attentiveness and focused attention, just as his garden flourished from the care he lavished upon it. Rarely have I met anyone so universally adored, he made friends anywhere he went, and the warmth of his nature was unjudgemental, he was just one of those amazingly loving people you find once or twice in a lifetime, if you are very fortunate.

I thank my Higher Power for the trip my friend and I took across to the big city on the mainland, because that was the last time before he went into hospital, and never came out.

I remember his humour, never biting or unkind, but screamingly funny all the same, he had a turn of phrase that could render his listeners helpless with laughter. He was generous with his possessions, his time and his love, and I miss him.

Our Perceptions Create Our Reality

When new to this idea, that our perceptions create our reality, I was also new to Al-Anon, so I hadn't any experience in living my life differently, to which I could point to remind myself that I might not have all the answers to my own questions.  My first spiritual awakening wasn't light and fluffy, it was a powerful life-changing experience. Since then, I've had many more spiritual experiences, and they have affirmed this understanding to a greater degree each time.

When I can let go, and let my life unfold without too much editorialising, planning, arranging, or deciding on my part, it works out in ways I don't have the imagination to invent in my projections. I've learned to ask for what I want, but to ask in such a way that all I'm doing is asking for the desire, I'm not giving instructions as to how that desire shoud be granted to me. There are replies to my requests which come with shattering speed, so that I'm standing leaning away from them a bit saying, "Oh, already, well, yes, that's beautiful indeed, and just what I wanted, but I'd kind of planned on having the 4-6 week delivery period to adjust to having this in my life..." when the truth is, I wanted it, I asked for it, and here it is, right in front of me, and am I going to let fear stop me from stepping forward to meet it?

I've been talking to my Higher Power a lot on recent walks, telling him how I feel about this response of his, and how the package was unrecognisable to me until I'd unwrapped it a bit, and then when I saw what it was, I was shocked, unready, anxious - feeling that this was too soon, I wasn't expecting it, and I don't think I do want it after all, so could he please take it away again, at the same time as my heart swells with gratitude. When I'm out walking alone, I can convince myself I don't really want the gift after all. When I'm within 50 feet of it, I know that this is what I have wanted all my life. I'm trying to relax, pray for strength to accept that this is meant for me: live in the moment: revel in the joy of it.

I pray to understand that answered prayers can be frightening, but I don't have to pick up the fear and run with it. I can set it down, decide to live for now, and feel my good feelings.

Old Pain.

I have never cried like this. Leaving without my dogs was agony, it seems to have ripped the store-room door wide open, and all the pain of all the years in which I could not cry even had I wanted to, is pouring out, an unstoppable river of tears.  I have enough self-possession to drag myself into a state approaching calm when I must, to deal with life's necessities, and to keep my friends from thinking that I have lost my mind, but all other times, it just rains out of me, a force not controllable by any other way but pleas to my Higher Power to grant me peace.

I go to Al-Anon meetings, and no sooner am I in my car afterwards, but it all sweeps over me again, and I'm driving home sobbing. I remember things I haven't thought of in 15 years, which caused me awful hurt at the time, but because back then I couldn't cry, they were stuffed into that internal store-room and the door firmly closed against them. That won't work as a solution anymore, the door itself has been removed.

I'm trying to let it go, to let it out, to validate that person who believed in love, who was crushed to be treated so harshly by a man who swore he loved her. I accepted his blame for all of it, and I tried so hard to be some other way to make it work. When he told me it was my fault that he was emotionally cruel to me, I believed it, why wouldn't I? I'd been getting that message all my life.

I remember the hope I had when we were starting out, and the early beliefs that this time I would figure out the way to make us happy, since according to him, it all fell into my area of reasponsibility. If only I would be a different way, then he would be, too. It never worked, he was the same no matter what I did.

I started this blog because my denial was finally smashed. He said something to me which broke through: he told me he had treated his first wife exactly the same way. When he said that, he set me free.
Freedom at the moment seems to consist of hours of weeping punctuated by sleep. I want to let it all go, I don't want any of that old sorrow festering inside my heart and soul. I want peace. I want to be an instrument of my HP's peace, and to do that, I must be emptied out.

Fighting Fear.

Today my friend (who has just undergone major surgery to remove cancer tumours) was finally well enough that I could go to the hospital to visit him. When I walked into the hospital room, I had a second's pause of my mind utterly refusing to believe that this ghostly pale, thin. weak man was my wonderful, loving friend. Only a month ago, he was still a vibrant energetic man. Now he's lying in a hospital bed too weak to speak much above a whisper, with IV's in each arm, and various drainage tubes, catheters, pain medication feed lines all running into and from his arms. I didn't break stride, and I asked God to please grant me the strength not to let the shock show in my face, or body language. I bent to hug him as gently as possible, and kissed him, saying how lovely it was to see him, and agreeing that the view from his window wasn't too bad, since he could see mostly trees.

He patted the side of his bed for me to sit, so I did, and was joking with him, teasing him lovingly, talking about gardening and my little dog, while the shock of seeing him looking so dreadfully thin and ill resonated through me like a cold ache. I stayed for a half-hour or so until he said he was beginning to tire, then hugged and kissed him again, went out into the hallway, took the elevator back to the ground floor, and walked slowly back out to my car.

 I'm still feeling that shock of my first sight of him, and the prognosis, told to me by his partner, and by my friend himself - he has been given 3 months to live because the cancer has metastasised to his liver in "hundreds of places" according to the oncologist. When I was sitting there with him today, he looked at me, and said softly, "I might not make it."  I gave him the little silver ankh I'd brought for him, the Egyptian symbol of everlasting life, and reminded him that doctors are just trained people with opinions, and that he has a ferociously strong will and life force.

I'm writing this while wearing a leather vest he gave me not long ago, it somehow brings him near to me, and reminds me to keep on praying for him. He's been a source of love and kindness for many of us in his 61 years, one of those special people with a loving generosity of spirit.

I wish that I could find a way through tears to break up the stone of aching grief in my chest, but I can't weep. I'm feeling bottled up, trying to find my way to acceptance through praying for my friend, and for my little dog. I love them both so, and I can do nothing in either case, it's beyond my control, I can only live with however it will be. I am grateful for the live that each of them has given me, and for the love I've felt for them. Love is a precious gift, and I've been blessed in my life.

Acceptance.

I've been struggling with this the last 24 hours, having to time and again turn my mind to positive thoughts, and ask my HP to help me, for a couple of reasons, one being that my friend has been diagosed with colon cancer.

My little dog is a good indicator of how well I'm doing in my attitude, because she senses it, and responds accordingly - last night, after receiving the bad news, I wandered around the house for a few minutes, with her close at my heels, giving me little nudges with her nose when I stopped to gaze out the front window. Glancing down, I saw in her body language the mirror of my own distress, and going to the kitchen, picked up the phone and called a dear friend, telling her what I'd just learned, asked if she'd like to go for a dog walk. She agreed, and within 20 minutes was at my door, hugging me; we gathered up dogs and leashes and went out for a long walk. I talked about the diagnosis, and my fears, and my friend gave comfort through her willingness to walk with me, and give me the gift of allowing free expression of all my feelings, the joyous, and the painful.

This morning, I realised that I've been fighting off tears ever since my friend called to tell me that he's been diagnosed with cancer. This is old behavior, rooted in childhood, this not allowing myself to truly feel my feelings, trying instead to surmount them. I've expended enormous energy in my life, doing this - going through my days with sorrow half-choking me, because at some point I had lost the ability to release the pain through tears, and then when I regained it, I didn't want to submit to weeping, to surrender.

I have no control over this. It will be what it will be, and I will go with it, because when it comes to life and my powerlessness, I'm a twig going over Niagara Falls. My only choice is in my attitude - am I going over screaming in fear and anger, or am I going in peace, knowing that I have the precious gifts of friendship and love in my life? I am truly blessed with the people in my life - fascinating, witty, generous people - and I am blessed to have had a family doctor all those years ago, who kept telling me, "I think you need to go to Al-Anon." I had no concept then, of the love and growth I would be offered, or the healing. I went to my first meeting seeking a way to stop my alcoholic from drinking, and here I am, so far from that day in time and place, with a gratitude I cannot begin to express for all of those who've helped me along the way.

I've gone from a bitter, furious, resentful woman who hadn't cried in years, to someone who knows how to get through anything. Reach out, ask for help and support, and then when it's offered, accept it.
Let the tears flow, let the pain out, ask my HP for serenity, and be willing to let it all go. Give back to others what was so generously given to me by the women at my first meeting, and every Al-Anon meeting since - love.

The Wild Windstorm That Wasn't.

Weather forecasters apparently were warning of a "wild windstorm" which was supposed to hit us yesterday  - you couldn't call the wind we received more than a "slight breeze" and even that sounds like an exaggeration.

My husband likes to watch the weather channel so that he knows what's in the forecast; seems to me that that all he accomplishes is to be warned about weather which never arrives. Snowstorms which turn out to last for ten minutes and then all evidence vanishes in the hot sun which follows - big storms which don't materialise, serious warnings given by grave-faced weather people who sound so certain, and can be completely wrong time and again, yet people still wait to hear their pronouncements.

Rain has a scent before it arrives, and I can tell when it's going to snow by the appearance of the clouds, they have a smooth, flat look. The birds become active before the wind, and the dogs are restless. Other than that, I tell the weather by gazing out my window.

Human beings want to know what's coming - we kid ourselves that knowing ahead of time helps us to prepare for it, but that's not how it works it real life. When the event actually arrives, and we're in the midst of it, all the advance preparation in the world doesn't ameliorate one moment of the feelings we go through. Life has to be lived in the present moment, and my serenity is undisturbed when I am undisturbed by the happenings of daily life - when I roll with the punches, they don't hurt any less, but I recover my equilibrium much more quickly..

Standing Guard At The Door Of My Mind.

From One Day At A Time In Al-Anon, page 226:

"Why do I allow myself to suffer? Is there any meaning or validity to the items I am permitting myself to suffer from? What if "he said this" - or "she did that." Even if it was meant to hurt, it cannot reach the real me, if I stand guard at the door of my mind."

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The first few hundred times I read that paragraph, I felt distinctly annoyed with the writer - how was I supposed to not be hurt, when deliberately hurtful things were said and done by the alcoholics in my life?

And just how was I to "stand guard at the door to my mind" anyway? What did that mean? Following swiftly upon my annoyance would be a feeling of despairing frustration; I was never going to "get" this program!

Until the first time the alcoholic said something designed to wound, and my internal dialogue, rather than feed the fire with exclamations of "How dare he! The nerve! That (rude word) has been drinking all day, and I've been working, and I come home in a good mood and he ruins it by..." offered up the first line of the Serenity Prayer:

"God grant me serenity."

That's how I stand guard at the door of my mind. By changing my thinking - asking my Higher Power for help, so that my first response is not anger, frustration or despair, but a deep breath, a reminder to myself that this is a sick individual, and a refusal to accept whatever unkindness is being offered to me.

I don't have to take it on. I may not always be standing guard effectively, and some things may get past me, and cause me hurt. Learning this new behavior, can feel like trying to use one leg to block a determined cat from getting outdoors, while still opening the door far enough, to be able to have a conversation with the person standing on the step.

That's where another reminder to ourselves comes into play; let go of expecting perfection.  Good enough is good enough. We'll try again next time. We may not in this lifetime attain such a blissful state of serenity, as to never be affected by the unkindness of those who profess to love us. That's okay. We do what we can, with the knowledge and skills we have at the time.

Relentless Self-Criticism.

When talking on the phone to a sponsee last night, I went to get my Courage to Change, as I had a page I wanted to read to her. It's one of my favourites, (a program friend says that she's certain she's heard me say that about every page of this book, at one time or another) so I'm going to reproduce it here in its entirety.

From Courage to Change, page 103:

 "It's only natural to want a quick fix or an immediate solution to a difficult situation. As one member jokingly puts it: "Grant me patience, Lord - and hurry!" My sentiments exactly! Do have some discomfort or a problem in my life? Let me fix it, or be rid of it now. Is it a situation I've lived with for twenty years? Fine, I'll give it fifteen minutes. Perhaps I've lived with it all my life - well then, an hour, maybe even two. It is connected with alcoholism? Do its roots run really deep in the ground of my being? In that case I'll make a few program calls and share at a meeting.
 Is it still hanging on? Very well, I'll launch a major campaign of self-criticism. What's wrong with me? Why do I have all these feelings about something that isn't important? I'm sure I caused all this myself: somehow I'm to blame.
  Heaven forbid I should surrender, accept my discomfort, and pray for guidance.

Today's Reminder
  Willpower cannot eliminate in a day troubles that have taken root and flourished in my life for decades. Things take time.

    "You cannot create a statue by smashing the marble with a hammer and you cannot by force of arms release the spirit or the soul of man."
                                                                   Confucius"

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I have recognised in myself, and in many other members of Al-Anon, one similarity - relentless self-criticism. We feel whatever we feel, as a result of life happenings, and then when we can't control those feelings by wanting them to go away, we begin to nag and harp at ourselves for having them at all. Just as the reading states, we begin to ask ourselves and others, "What's wrong with me?"

What's wrong, is that we are having the normal human response: pain, or sorrow.

Our culture doesn't allow much room for either of those - why else would so many of us be confused as to what's going on, when we feel them? We are exposed on a daily basis to many messages from the culture, to seek help immediately - get counselling, take this medication, start this exercise routine, and feel better!

Much emphasis is placed upon "feeling better"; so much so, that when we can't force ourselves to feel better, we become anxious and disturbed, and begin to bash ourselves for whatever it is that we may be experiencing.

Human beings cannot get over the loss of a relationship in a few weeks. We must go through a process of grieving, and that takes however long it takes. Some people can work it through fairly quickly, others take longer. We can't judge ourselves by the culture's yardsticks, or by other people's example. We have no real idea of what is going on for them; we see only the public person.

When I am in pain, or grieving, if I then add to my pain by "launching a major campaign of self-criticism," all I manage to accomplish is make myself feel much worse.

I add shame, and this complicates things by blocking the working-through of the original feeling. I don't feel it any less, I just can't process it.

I have a right to my feelings. When the process isn't blocked by shame or self-criticism, those feelings will rise, peak, and subside. This happens continually over a period of time, and each rise is a little less, until I reach a place of calm acceptance.  Ultimately, I will be able to say, "This happened." without an accompanying rush of painful feeling.

That's the process for all of us; that's just how it works. When I allow myself to feel my feelings, I can acknowledge it: "I'm feeling this now."

I can allow the pain or sorrow, let it move though me, because experience has shown me that it will pass. At the peak of the feeling, I may believe that I will feel this pain forever, that I'll never be happy or peaceful again. I let myself feel the pain of that idea. If I'm really struggling with it, I will call my sponsor or a program friend, read literature, ask my Higher Power for guidance and support.

At one time in my life, before Al-Anon, I could shut my feelings off like flicking a switch, by repeating a little mantra of "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter..." After a few repetitions, I'd go numb. That was how I managed to stay in my first marriage for ten years, by using the same techniques learned earlier in life, to numb myself to pain.

Numbing myself to pain, stunted my ability to experience joy, delight, fufillment. This is another one of those blasted either/or truths: we get none of the feelings, or all of them. Pain and sorrow are included in the package. If I want the joy and the delight, I must accept the full scope of my feelings. That means that at times in my life, I am going to feel pain or sorrow. I pray to be accepting of all of my feelings, and not to shame myself for having them.

Perspective In Maturity.

An Al-Anon member reminded me of a joking comment made by a mutual program friend ... he'd sighed heavily, and stated ruefully, that he'd come to the understanding that he wasn't the center of the universe. The rest of us at the table burst into laughter, but most could relate. When new to program, we may feel as though our feelings matter more than anything else around us.

Perhaps we believe that the strength of our feelings should cause people to treat us differently, make allowances, change a long-held policy or tradition. We may have been in pain for so long, that we don't know any other way to operate apart from using our feelings as a starting point for all of our decisions, justifying our behavior with our feelings.

We feel what we feel...

... and that's as far as it goes.

That feeling needs to begin, and end, with us. A feeling does not give us the right to demand change from someone else. It does not justify childish, manipulative or
vindictive behavior.

I speak from experience; I used my abusive childhood both as a shield, and a spear. I heard an AA member say something at an open meeting which stayed with me. He said that no-one cares what kind of misery we may have undergone then; what they care about, is whether or not we're a kind and loving person now. I couldn't shake that remark; it leapt into memory when my feelings were roused and I was about to behave unkindly.

I slowly, over time and practise of the Al-Anon program, began to understand that while I could live the rest of my life carrying that same rage and fear, I also had the option to let it go. How did I let it go? The same way we let anything go - by deciding to open my hand, relax my grasp, and let it fall away.

In program, I have learned that I have the right to my feelings. I've also learned that using my feelings as markers is not the best way to operate, since my feelings aren't always stimulated by the higher parts of my being. Sometimes they are the lizard brain, or the inner child demanding to be heard. I don't want to be a three-year-old all my life, I want to mature and grow. That means that oftentimes I need to feel my feeling, and then let it pass before I take any action - speak, write, or whatever the feeling is telling me to do. I can feel my feeling, observe that I'm feeling my feeling, and then share it with another member.

Not recite the way in which I arrived at that feeling: "I said this, and he/she said that, and then I said.." but share the feeling: "I'm feeling angry/lonely/frustrated/hurt."

Or recognise my feeling, and decide that it's all very interesting, but not worth verbalising, since if I am truly honest with myself, I can see that this is my inner three year old speaking. It's not the best idea, to let small children give me life advice. Before Al-Anon, I allowed my inner child to tell me what to say and do, because she was in a rage, or furious with hurt and pain, and wanted to have a temper tantrum to release the feeling.

We label certain behaviors "childish" because they are most often demonstrated by those young in years. When we have many years under our belt, and still act in that way, we have a problem. And we are a problem, to those who must deal with us.

I feel what I feel. That's fine; I let that happen, but I do it quietly, and without a lot of fanfare nowadays. If after a few day's contemplation I still feel strongly, and I can honestly say that I am not trying to change something or someone, I may speak up. I try to refrain from splashing my feeling about with much noise and drama.

Maturity has various components - mental, emotional, behavioural. That same AA guy I mentioned earlier, said something else that stayed with me. He said, "It's so hard!" is not a reason, excuse or justification. It's hard for all of us. It's just as hard for the person who has to put up with you, and your shortcomings. Think about that next time you start feeling sorry for yourself."

Questions.

"I'm new to Al-Anon, (about a year) and I'm getting wierded out because I never thought of myself as an angry person but I'm getting angrier all the time. Now when I look at my partner, that's all I can feel, p_____d right off at her for still drinking, and me for staying with her. What's going on?"
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I came into Al-Anon an angry person; it wasn't even slightly underground in my case. I woke up angry, went to sleep angry, and muddled and stomped through my days with my level of anger intensifying to a boil, and decreasing to a simmer, but the burner was always turned to "on." Anger was my main coping mechanism, instilled in me when I was a very young child, through years of extreme physical battering and abuse. When my anger became too much to bear, I could shut myself down, much like flicking a switch, with a mantra of "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter," repeated a few times, and then - blessed numbness.
Others come into Al-Anon feeling distressed and upset, but not particularly angry. I've heard members speak of bewilderment and confusion - where is all this anger coming from? Why can I no longer control my feelings?
I think the operative word is "control." We may feel as though we are losing control, frightened at the strength of the emotion, or the thoughts which arise.
This is perfectly normal.
When we have been hiding our feelings even from ourselves, and denying reality, it is no easy matter to begin the slow process of hauling it all out into the light and trying to take a dispassionate look at just what is there. I have heard many members share about a similar slow building of anger, as they continued to come to meetings. When feelings have been blunted through denial, the re-awakening can be agonising. No strength of feeling is lost through being stored, and when the coping mechanisms fail at last, and the emotions burst through the wall of numbness, a complete emotional breakdown can be the result.
We come into Al-Anon at various stages of various processes, but the one thing we have in common, is our need to be validated, to feel heard. And the one person by whom we need to be heard most, is not the alcoholic, but ourselves.
Al-Anon meetings are a safe place to speak, and to hear. A part of us will recognise this, whether our conscious mind can or does, and that part will begin to loosen the bonds holding our denial so tightly tied. That can be the catalyst for change, if we are willing and able to sit through those awful, painful feelings, and allow ourselves to feel them. Recovery is not always a sunny cheerful place - we may arrive at that destination finally, but the journey requires a willingness to suffer just a little bit more. If we've been frozen up in our feelings, then the suffering is going to be considerable.
Behind my great anger was pain - the pain of a child, and that of an adult, all the stages of my life's sorrows, disappointments, and griefs, all shoved behind the backdrop of rage, and left to molder unspoken and unrecognised. When I began to sort them, I'd pick one up and it would rush through me like adrenalin dumped into the bloodstream, and it would have been too much to bear, had I tried to do that by myself. I needed the comfort of my sponsor, and my Higher Power. I needed someone who could reassure me when I faltered, that it would get better, that this was necessary, that I would come out the other side of my first Step Four changed, and it would be good. And it was, but I had to take that on faith, I couldn't believe it.
Anger is a normal part of recovery; if we are not accustomed to allowing ourselves this feeling, it may be frightening. Get a sponsor, use your phone list, call someone with whom you can "reason things out." If you are not comfortable sharing details, that's fine, too - you can say, "I'm feeling really angry today, and I'm uncomfortable with it." That's information enough to be going on with, you can get comfort merely from hearing youself say it aloud. Treat yourself with loving kindness, and don't get into the whole "I should be doing this, I shouldn't be doing this" cycle, which drives us crazy, by making us feel even worse about ourselves, while accomplishing nothing helpful.

Remember the golden rule of recovery: "Treat yourself wih the same care and attention you've been lavishing upon everyone else on the planet."

Am I Looking For Guidance, Or Sympathy?

How can I tell? In this, as in so much of Al-Anon, I need to stop and consider my motives. What is it that I'm hoping to receive, when I place this phone call, or open this conversation? In the past, what I wanted, was sympathy, and advice I could ignore. I felt that if someone cared about me, they'd offer me advice. I didn't want to take it, but I still wanted them to put the effort into the offering.

Also, sympathy. I loved it when someone would coo, "Oh, your poor thing, how do you put up with that?"

So when I was very new to Al-Anon, and would call my new sponsor, expecting her to give lashings of sympathy, and instead she'd suggest that I consider my powerlessness, and try turning it over to my Higher Power, I would feel frustrated, and angry. Furiously angry. I'd fall silent on the phone, stewing and fuming, and she'd let the silence extend for a while, then ask, "What are you feeling right now?" and I, of course, would respond brightly with, "Oh, I'm fine!" because I sure as heck wasn't going to tell her how offended I was by her response.

She would ask "Fine? You don't sound fine, you sound angry." And then somehow, instead of a nice satisfying (to me at the time) conversation about what a creep my alcoholic was, and what a great martyr I was, we'd be engaged in a discussion about my response to her suggestions, and why did that make me so angry, what was it that I thought she was supposed to give me, that I wasn't getting? Had I called her because I was looking for guidance, or for another reason? Did I want help, or did I want to continue in the same awful state I'd been in for so many years?

I used to come away from conversations with her feeling a mix of frustration, fury, bruised entitlement, and the dim realisation that she could help me, were I to keep trying. At the beginning of my time in Al-Anon, I didn't do what was suggested because I believed in it, so much as because she believed in it, and so did the other people in my meeting group. And I was desperate. So I would hang up the phone, and go do what she'd told me to do, whether it was to pray to a Higher Power I didn't yet recognise, or work my program in some other way.

From my present perspective, I marvel at my sponsor's patience with the childish, stubborn, self-pitying person I was at that time in my life. I was a sarcastic, chronic complainer. All of those character defects were closely tied, to my inability to love or value myself. Through my sponsor's willingness to work with me, I learned that putting the program into practise, could revolutionise my life.
I learned that were I to behave differently, my self-image would also change. This may sound like pretty basic reality to some of you, but for me, it was a revelation.

When I could rise above my own wants, and give of myself to another, I felt good in a way I'd never been able to achieve before Al-Anon. This is one of the basic tenets of 12 Step - when we share with another, we receive an amazing gift ourselves.

When I treated the alcoholic and myself with kindness and dignity, I felt like a good person, and that was new to me, to feel that way. I could respect myself when I used the tools of progam to deal with his acting out. The very first time I refused to respond to his rudeness and unkindness with like behavior, and instead, tried another way, I was astounded to discover that it worked. And worked very well, too.

When I was new to Al-Anon, I justified my own behavior, by pointing to the behavior of someone else - they "made me do it, by making me so angry!" "They hurt my feelings, so I hurt theirs in return." This kind of behavior may have afforded me momentary satisfaction, but somewhere deep inside, I knew it wasn't a good or loving or kind way to behave, and when I acted that way, it only added to my negative self-image.

In order to be able to love myself, I need to act in a loving way towards myself, and those around me. When I can let go of the little thoughtlessness, or perhaps unkindness someone may direct at me, I don't take it on and stew over it. I see it, I recognise it, I decide if I need to adjust my boundaries with that person, or whether I can let it pass by, unremarked upon. I choose to concentrate on that which is good in my day, because when I do, my spirit fills with gratitude, and I feel calm, centered, and serene.

I cannot change other people; I can change myself. Let it begin with me.

You Can Be A Good Example, Even When You're Struggling.

Since I'm a great believer in taking my own suggestions, I'm going to try to write today, even though I'm feeling that I have nothing useful or helpful or even halfways intelligent to say. I believe that we can be of service to newcomers and those who are really battling, when we admit that we don't have the energy or the desire or anything much to share, but we show up anyway.

I've had a rough few weeks - some childhood stuff with which I've never dealt, is now demanding to be processed, and I appear to have reached a point at which my ability to say "Not now/later/some other time," and successfully shove those memories and feelings back into their closet and shut the door, has reached an end.  (It's with some irony that I remember writing a post quite some time ago, about letting go of the past, and realise that this is only possible if it is first acknowledged for what it was. I can't let go of that which I won't even admit happened.)

My family doctor suggests that it's not uncommon in midlife, for those of us who suffered severe physical abuse as a small child, and have reached a place of overall mental stability, to have to go through this process - now it's safe for the pain to come up and be felt, it won't destroy us. I like that "overall mental stability" description; with what I've been going through, it's comforting to think someone else sees me that way. My sponsor has said the same thing in different words; I'm strong enough now, to sift through that which has never been hauled out of the cupboard, laid out on the floor, and examined.

I'm trying to stay open to the process, accept that something in me is being worked out, and that if I keep wading, clutching my Higher Power's hand, I will reach the other side of this river of pain and seemingly endless flow of tears. I'm trying to let the memories and the feelings flow through me, with no editorial comment on my part.  I'm trying to accept that for this, I can't force myself to feel better. I can only show up, and be willing.

Tears As A Gift.

Music has always had a powerful emotional effect upon me, and bagpipes most of all. This morning in my email inbox, was a link to Amazing Grace played by bagpipes - lovely haunting music which brings me to tears.

As a person who was frozen in my emotions when I came into Al-Anon, with almost nothing left to feel except fear and anger, it was a new and rather alarming experience to find myself moved to tears, by the words of those other brave souls around the table, who shared of themselves so freely. I wept continuously throughout my first few meetings, and those hot tears pouring down my face, with all my efforts to control them completely useless, were, I now believe, a gift from my Higher Power.

Had I not had that experience, which left me rather shaky, but at the same time, understanding that in those rooms was a power I could not articulate, but could feel, I might not have continued to attend meetings. I was very hardened, and closed-off to other people - had I not been ripped open emotionally, so that against all my will, I was exposed in my pain, and in return received such a loving welcome from those women, I don't know where I'd be today.

There's a person in one of my regular meetings, who moves me to tears almost every time they speak - their own emotion is so much on the surface, and their experience of Al-Anon has been so life-changing and so powerful. It humbles me to hear the amazing difference that this wonderful program has made to this person.

It takes me back. I remember when I was that newcomer, whose voice shook, and whose tears were always right at the surface, regardless of how I struggled to subdue them; they would not be subdued. Inside the meeting rooms of Al-Anon, all my usual defenses were ineffective - I could be no-one but my true self. And believe me, I tried. I would promise myself as I drove to a meeting, that this time, I was not going to cry if I shared. And then I'd begin to talk, and my defenses would collapse, and there I'd be, emotionally naked once again. It was agonising, and it was the only way.

A Quitter Never Wins; A Winner Never Quits.

That little saying, (and a few more along that same line,) were part of the reason that I was such a blindly stubborn and mulish person, when I came into Al-Anon. I had been well indoctrinated in the adoptive home, to believe that once one decided upon a course of action, the only shameful thing, was to change one's mind partway through, to "quit." That reasoning kept me in an abusive marriage for ten long years. It kept me in jobs where I was treated poorly, apartments where the landlord was a maniac, friendships in which I'd come away from an encounter with the friend feeling unheard, dismissed, negated, or mocked.

Why did I stay in those situations when I knew they weren't good for me? Because I'd chosen that apartment, friend, job, husband, and now that I'd "made my bed" I had to "lie in it."

In Al-Anon, I have learned that I may make decisions based upon the limited information available to me at the time of my decision, and then once the decision has been made, and I get further in, realise that things are not as they seemed.

I want to stop here, and explain that I'm not suggesting that it's acceptable for me to make weighty decisions and then throw them over on a whim because my ego has taken a minor bruising, or I'm feeling too lazy to follow through on my committment.

I'm talking about those times when I begin to get an uneasy feeling, which will, at first, hover just out of reach -  an amorphous sense that things aren't right, that this doesn't match what I'd been led to believe, but I'm unable at the start to determine quite how that difference is manifested. This will progress to a realisation that I'm feeling more uncomfortable with each encounter: beginning to dread time spent in that person (or person's) company: shutting down, to protect myself.

After careful consideration, and discussion, we joined a social group when we were new to this city. I was delighted to find that their mission statement contained many "12-Step-ish" principles, and that tolerance and acceptance was presented as their touchstone. This, sadly, has proven to not be the case. On the contrary, most of the members are of one mind, and not at all open to alternate viewpoints. As the membership has become more comfortable with us, the social masks are coming off, and the real feelings and attitudes are being expressed - gossip is rife, criticism is rampant, and I've been feeling increasingly out-of-place and discomfited when we attend gatherings. Those with alternate viewpoints are dismissed as anything from foolishly misguided, to uneducated simpletons.

I've thought about it, prayed about it, and last night, sat down with my spouse and told him that I'd decided that it wasn't good for me to be a member of that social group, because I felt distressed and disturbed to see the way they treated one another. We had a good long talk about how each social organisation, (including 12-Step groups) has a "culture" - how we can only go on the cultural information offered to us at the start, and that as we get accepted into that culture, and receive more information, our attitudes can change from embracing the culture, to feeling that we need to detach, for our mental, emotional and spiritual health.

It was important for me to be honest with my spouse about my feelings of shame for wanting to step back, how it triggered those "quitters never win, when you start something, finish it, yada yada yada" tapes inside my head. It hasn't been easy for me to validate my attitudes or feelings in the area of social groups or gatherings, because I had such a wierd and twisted childhood that I was socially inept, antisocial, resentful, and myself the poster child for intolerance, when new to Al-Anon. It can still require a fair bit of "reasoning things out with someone else" for me to be able to validate my feelings and ideas, and then act upon them to keep myself in healthy company.

I have only one life. I don't want to waste my time with those who indulge in gossip and criticism  I want to spend my precious time with those who will uplift me, teach me, enrich me, help me to grow in tolerance and acceptance.

Keep On Keeping On.

I had taken my blog offline for a while, until I could remove the identifying information, which I shouldn't have posted in the first place, but live and learn. I'm back on public readings again.

I haven't written here in a long time, over a month. I've been going through some changes, and it's been rocky, to put it mildly. I've written elsewhere on this blog about the fact that I seem to be a slow learner in some areas of my life and my recovery, and I've had that brought home to me quite sharply, in the last while.

I have been granted the ability to see where I've fallen far short of my program ideals, in my primary relationship with the alcoholic. I've been struggling to tread water, feeling fatigued and emptied out - feeling that I have had nothing to say which could possibly be helpful to anyone else. I mentioned this to a program friend, who sat in contemplative silence for a moment, and then suggested that we do no-one any favours when we are not willing to be honest in long-term recovery, about how we can still be brought to our knees by  alcoholism.

I could feel myself getting mildly irritated by this, so knew it was an excellent idea to pay close attention to what she was saying, and explore that further with her. It's only ever the truth that annoys me in this way.

I decided that I need to start attending some extra meetings in my week - where we lived before, there wasn't much choice, here in the city, there's plenty.

Just doing that one thing - going to more meetings, has pushed me over the speedbump I was stalled upon. I've had the fascinating realisation that in one area of my relationship with this alcoholic, I have never, ever, fully surrendered my will. I told myself I had, but circumstances have proven to me that this was not the case - I was keeping that little bit in reserve. I couldn't let it all go.

I've been clutching it, and it's been clutching me.

I've been working to allow myself, when I am in private, to feel all of my feelings, to give in to the desire to weep, instead of trying to muster cheer I haven't felt. I don't think I have ever wept so much in 53 years of life - it's been a torrent of salty water. Each time, it is agonisingly painful at the start, and peaceful at the end. I'm letting it all happen.

My own personal changes have, as is always the case, caused ructions on the home front - sustained, intense manipulation and  pressure on the part of the alcoholic to make me go back to the way things used to be. I'm working to detach, attend my meetings, speak up and speak my truth when it's my turn, and let go.

I've had love and acceptance given freely to me, by the people at these meetings, that I haven't been getting at home. It keeps me going, and it keeps me knowing that I'm a good person, I deserve to be treated with kindness and respect.

I've had some intense, startling revelations because I've been opened by the tears, and receptive to my Higher Power working through other people.

I've been granted another spiritual awakening. When I was new to Al-Anon, I had the idea that these would be like a Disney movie - I had no idea that some can only be given, after we've been scoured out by tears and pain.

Finding a Balance.

From Hope for Today, page 144:

"Speaking too little can be as self-defeating as speaking too much."

I can work my program to the best of my ability, but if I am not able to be honest about my feelings during times of contflict and stress, change is unlikely.. I must be willing to speak up, and then suffer the consequences of having spoken - the other person's anger or frustration.

I had an entire day of consequences today, and all I can say about it is - I'm glad that today is over now.