Before Al-Anon, the only way I knew how to detach, was with sufficient anger to keep me motivated to withdraw.
With years of program behind me, I can recognise, accept, let go, and detach, all without any anger at all. Some times, many times, what I'm feeling is wonder, at my own inability to see a situation with clarity, even when I've experienced it's like, many times in my own past.
Denial is like that, though - once I stop denying and begin to accept the reality of a situation, I can be stymied and baffled by my own ability (and willingness) to ignore red flags, ignore my own body sending up signals which indicate my discomfort, ignore the evidence of my own eyes, because I don't want it to be that way. I want it to be this way, instead. I'd like to rewrite reality, please.
When I heard in Al-Anon that I had a part to play in every situation in which I was personally involved, I fought the idea tooth and nail. I wanted to blame the alcoholic for everything, I didn't want to believe that I had any responsibility, and was completely resistant to the idea that anything I was doing, or had done, had contributed to my misery.
In Al-Anon, I have learned that if I'm there in the room, I have a role, and although it may be a small one, it's got my name on it.
Showing posts with label maturity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maturity. Show all posts
Monday, December 8, 2014
Friday, October 24, 2014
What Qualifies as "Gossip or Criticism."
I was raised in an adoptive family in which the major form of humour was sarcasm. I picked it up along with some other bad habits, and used it right into the doors of Al-Anon.
Before progam, I used sarcasm as a weapon, as a rebuttal, as a defense, and to score points in an argument.
I spoke to my first sponsor about it, and she reminded me that in our closing, we read, "Talk to each other, reason things out, but let there be no gossip or criticism of one another. Instead, let the understanding, love and peace of the program grow in you one day at a time."
I define "let there be no gossip or criticism of one another" very narrowly. Many times, a new sponsee will ask me who my other sponsees are. I don't tell them, because that runs up against my strong belief in keeping confidences. If one sponsee wishes to break that confidence by talking about who their sponsor is, that's up to them. Nobody is going to hear it from me.
I'm not comfortable in hearing about who irritates or bothers you at a meeting, because they are too this or that. I am not at a meeting to sit and fume because someone has a personality quirk I find irritating. I am at a meeting to share the experience strength and hope I have to offer, to bask in the atmosphere of love and acceptance, and to learn.
My experience in this program has taught me right from the start, that it would invariably be the person who was irritating me the most, who had the lesson I most needed to hear at that time.
In my second group, which was a home-group meeting, we went to a member's apartment, and we were no further that just inside the door, before I was silently judging her for her décor. (I was a supremely shallow person 30 years ago, I lived in anger, fear, and judgement.)
During the meeting, I was judging this same woman for the way she spoke, her choice of clothing, her speech patterns; everything about her, got my goat. The meeting ended, I went home, and found that one thing she'd said, was getting more and more powerful the more I thought about it. It applied to my own character defects, and it stuck in my head all week, like a cocklebur seed to a sock. It poked, prodded, and needled at me day upon day. I finally called my sponsor to complain about this obsession, and we had a very interesting and to me, madly infuriating discussion, in which she suggested, not for the first time, that what most annoyed me in another person, often turned out to be a character defect or personality quirk of my own that I disliked.
I swallowed and muttered and grumped while she explained this idea in greater detail. When she was finished, I didn't have much to say, I was too offended, so I said a stiff goodbye, thanked her, and hung up.
Talking to her hadn't helped me in the way I'd hoped or wanted. I didn't get what I thought I needed from that discussion; instead I was, as so often in the early days with my sponsor, mightily offended. I took offense very quickly when I was new to Al-Anon. My self-image was so negative and so shaky, that even the slightest suggestion that I was wrong could send me into a tailspin for days. After a few months of dealing with this aspect of my personality, my sponsor suggested that perhaps by being offended, I didn't have to hear what she was saying?
That hit home with a thump, because it was simply, and undeniably true. A large part of my judgement, when it wasn't about allowing me to feel superior, because I didn't do that at meetings, was about being to cut that person out, as someone I didn't need to listen to very carefully.
This woman taught me to listen carefully when anyone speaks during a meeting, because I've learned that the most (to me) unlikely person, may be the one person at the meeting who is carrying the message from my HP, that I most need to hear.
Before progam, I used sarcasm as a weapon, as a rebuttal, as a defense, and to score points in an argument.
I spoke to my first sponsor about it, and she reminded me that in our closing, we read, "Talk to each other, reason things out, but let there be no gossip or criticism of one another. Instead, let the understanding, love and peace of the program grow in you one day at a time."
I define "let there be no gossip or criticism of one another" very narrowly. Many times, a new sponsee will ask me who my other sponsees are. I don't tell them, because that runs up against my strong belief in keeping confidences. If one sponsee wishes to break that confidence by talking about who their sponsor is, that's up to them. Nobody is going to hear it from me.
I'm not comfortable in hearing about who irritates or bothers you at a meeting, because they are too this or that. I am not at a meeting to sit and fume because someone has a personality quirk I find irritating. I am at a meeting to share the experience strength and hope I have to offer, to bask in the atmosphere of love and acceptance, and to learn.
My experience in this program has taught me right from the start, that it would invariably be the person who was irritating me the most, who had the lesson I most needed to hear at that time.
In my second group, which was a home-group meeting, we went to a member's apartment, and we were no further that just inside the door, before I was silently judging her for her décor. (I was a supremely shallow person 30 years ago, I lived in anger, fear, and judgement.)
During the meeting, I was judging this same woman for the way she spoke, her choice of clothing, her speech patterns; everything about her, got my goat. The meeting ended, I went home, and found that one thing she'd said, was getting more and more powerful the more I thought about it. It applied to my own character defects, and it stuck in my head all week, like a cocklebur seed to a sock. It poked, prodded, and needled at me day upon day. I finally called my sponsor to complain about this obsession, and we had a very interesting and to me, madly infuriating discussion, in which she suggested, not for the first time, that what most annoyed me in another person, often turned out to be a character defect or personality quirk of my own that I disliked.
I swallowed and muttered and grumped while she explained this idea in greater detail. When she was finished, I didn't have much to say, I was too offended, so I said a stiff goodbye, thanked her, and hung up.
Talking to her hadn't helped me in the way I'd hoped or wanted. I didn't get what I thought I needed from that discussion; instead I was, as so often in the early days with my sponsor, mightily offended. I took offense very quickly when I was new to Al-Anon. My self-image was so negative and so shaky, that even the slightest suggestion that I was wrong could send me into a tailspin for days. After a few months of dealing with this aspect of my personality, my sponsor suggested that perhaps by being offended, I didn't have to hear what she was saying?
That hit home with a thump, because it was simply, and undeniably true. A large part of my judgement, when it wasn't about allowing me to feel superior, because I didn't do that at meetings, was about being to cut that person out, as someone I didn't need to listen to very carefully.
This woman taught me to listen carefully when anyone speaks during a meeting, because I've learned that the most (to me) unlikely person, may be the one person at the meeting who is carrying the message from my HP, that I most need to hear.
Friday, September 26, 2014
'Obedience To The Unenforceable.'
I've heard that phrase used to describe how 12-Step meetings work - we all agree to a loose framework of behavior which makes the meeting safe for everyone. But in truth, there is no-one in authority who will, or can, force us to abide by the framework of respect and consideration; we do it because we want the meetings to be comfortable, useful, hopeful, and a soft place to fall for each of us.
Now and then we will hear a newcomer, or less often, a member with some years in program, admonish a meeting for being a certain way - the member might feel that some people are laughing when they shouldn't, or perhaps topics aren't being addressed the way this member feels they should be.
In the book, "How It Works, for Families and Friends of Alcoholics" a group conscience is defined as "the voice of the majority of the members." This voice is reached through discussion, and then voting on the subject, with an agreement beforehand that we will abide by the decision reached.
I've seen group consciences where one member asked for a discussion and vote, on something about which he or she felt very strongly, and I've seen the discussion bring to the surface, aspects that other members hadn't considered, and which in the end, changed the way we voted.
I've also seen members ask for a group conscience because they felt that something wasn't right, and the vote went with the majority of the members voting against their idea. Some members can accept this as the voice of the majority, apply Tradition One: "Our common welfare comes first, personal progress for the greatest number depends upon unity" and with good grace, understand that they are in the minority on this issue, and things won't change to suit them.
By contrast, I've seen members become more and more agitated about having been voted down, until their anger causes them to decide to attend a different meeting. I once worried that this was a bad thing, that in voting, and the voting going against their pet idea, we might be "driving them away."
It was my first sponsor who pointed out to me, that each of us has a Higher Power, and that maybe this person needed to move to another meeting, in order to be able to learn something he or she desperately needed to learn, in order to continue to grow.
Many Al-Anon members have spoken to me about how one person has said something in a meeting which was life-changing for them - I like to call these "startling revelations." I enjoyed the first meeting I attended, but it wasn't until I moved away, and began attending a new-to-me meeting, that I had a startling revelation about some part of my life. It was the result of hearing a member speak who had I not moved, I'd never have heard. She was a force for change in my life, but I had to go to a different meeting to meet that force.
Because of this, I believe it is vital for all of us to allow meetings to be run by our Higher Power. The more that I can set aside my ideas about what should be being read, or discussed, or evaluated, and allow the meeting to flow with its own speed and power, the more I am uplifted, refreshed and granted serenity.
Now and then we will hear a newcomer, or less often, a member with some years in program, admonish a meeting for being a certain way - the member might feel that some people are laughing when they shouldn't, or perhaps topics aren't being addressed the way this member feels they should be.
In the book, "How It Works, for Families and Friends of Alcoholics" a group conscience is defined as "the voice of the majority of the members." This voice is reached through discussion, and then voting on the subject, with an agreement beforehand that we will abide by the decision reached.
I've seen group consciences where one member asked for a discussion and vote, on something about which he or she felt very strongly, and I've seen the discussion bring to the surface, aspects that other members hadn't considered, and which in the end, changed the way we voted.
I've also seen members ask for a group conscience because they felt that something wasn't right, and the vote went with the majority of the members voting against their idea. Some members can accept this as the voice of the majority, apply Tradition One: "Our common welfare comes first, personal progress for the greatest number depends upon unity" and with good grace, understand that they are in the minority on this issue, and things won't change to suit them.
By contrast, I've seen members become more and more agitated about having been voted down, until their anger causes them to decide to attend a different meeting. I once worried that this was a bad thing, that in voting, and the voting going against their pet idea, we might be "driving them away."
It was my first sponsor who pointed out to me, that each of us has a Higher Power, and that maybe this person needed to move to another meeting, in order to be able to learn something he or she desperately needed to learn, in order to continue to grow.
Many Al-Anon members have spoken to me about how one person has said something in a meeting which was life-changing for them - I like to call these "startling revelations." I enjoyed the first meeting I attended, but it wasn't until I moved away, and began attending a new-to-me meeting, that I had a startling revelation about some part of my life. It was the result of hearing a member speak who had I not moved, I'd never have heard. She was a force for change in my life, but I had to go to a different meeting to meet that force.
Because of this, I believe it is vital for all of us to allow meetings to be run by our Higher Power. The more that I can set aside my ideas about what should be being read, or discussed, or evaluated, and allow the meeting to flow with its own speed and power, the more I am uplifted, refreshed and granted serenity.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Road Rage - Another Name For Bad Manners
A few days ago, after checking first, to make sure I wasn't being followed closely enough to be rear-ended, I slowed to stop for a pedestrian at an unmarked crossing, and when he looked at me to make sure that's what I was doing, I waved him on. He was young, in his early twenties at the most, and when he smiled, gave a wave of thanks, and stepped off jauntily to cross the four lanes of traffic, a shattering blast of horn broke out behind me. He froze in front of my car - he knew that I, at least, knew he was there and wouldn't mow him down.
A look in my rearview mirror, and I saw the man in the large pickup behind me, wave his arms in that gesture meaning, "What are you doing!"
I pointed to the pedestrian, wondering if the driver hadn't seen him, and was thinking I'd stopped at the end of the block for no real reason.
His response was to punch the fist of one hand, violently into the palm of the other, face suffused with rage.
I thought of the phrase I use as a meditative tool: "Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace." and not knowing I was about to do so, blew the enraged driver a kiss.
Rather than respond with increased fury, the driver's rage seemed to deflate; he changed lanes and dropped back. It was as though he'd lost interest in that which had so infuriated him just a moment before.
I thought of myself, so angry at everything when I came into this program, so completely unable to see my own part in the troubles of my life, so desperately longing for connection and a sense of love, and yet unable to attain it, becauce first, I had to understand that if I wish to have a friend, I must be one. If I wish love, I need to behave in a way that does not alienate and hurt the people in my life.
We none of us live in a vacuum, but so many of us newly in, are self-absorbed to the point we are unable to recognise the pain that we have called. We rationalise all of that.
Step 4, we stop with the game-playing and the blaming. We accept that each of us has human frailty, and admit that we have done some harm ourselves.
A look in my rearview mirror, and I saw the man in the large pickup behind me, wave his arms in that gesture meaning, "What are you doing!"
I pointed to the pedestrian, wondering if the driver hadn't seen him, and was thinking I'd stopped at the end of the block for no real reason.
His response was to punch the fist of one hand, violently into the palm of the other, face suffused with rage.
I thought of the phrase I use as a meditative tool: "Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace." and not knowing I was about to do so, blew the enraged driver a kiss.
Rather than respond with increased fury, the driver's rage seemed to deflate; he changed lanes and dropped back. It was as though he'd lost interest in that which had so infuriated him just a moment before.
I thought of myself, so angry at everything when I came into this program, so completely unable to see my own part in the troubles of my life, so desperately longing for connection and a sense of love, and yet unable to attain it, becauce first, I had to understand that if I wish to have a friend, I must be one. If I wish love, I need to behave in a way that does not alienate and hurt the people in my life.
We none of us live in a vacuum, but so many of us newly in, are self-absorbed to the point we are unable to recognise the pain that we have called. We rationalise all of that.
Step 4, we stop with the game-playing and the blaming. We accept that each of us has human frailty, and admit that we have done some harm ourselves.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Common Denominators - Trust Problems.
Too much trust is equally as problematic as too little, because it has the same result - an inability to see other people with any clarity. If I'm not paying attention when other people "tell me who they are" through their actions and characteristic behavior, I'm setting myself up for future trouble when our two moralities and belief systems collide.
I came into program a strange mix of distrust and denial, fearful of others, afraid of what I might do, unable to relax for even one minute into confidence in anything or anyone. I learned in the rooms of Al-Anon that before I could have any confidence in myself, I first needed to believe in my own worth, my value as a human being. Once that was established, I could take the next small steps of trusting in my own judgement.
I learned that the world contains many wonderfully delightful people who are a joy to know, and who enrich my life immeasurably. (I couldn't have imagined I'd ever write that sentence, when I was new to program.)
Many of us come into Al-Anon suffering from the effects of too much trust, of denial of the evidence given by our own senses, in favour of what we'd prefer to believe. We turn our faces away from reality when it's presented to us, and wave it off like a bad smell, insisting that it isn't really that, it's this, and this is okay, we can live with this. And then five or ten or fifteen years later, when denial cracks, or the other person forces the reality of who they are into our consciousness, we're devastated. I knew my first husband was dishonest in many ways, I saw it happen daily, but through some convoluted thinking, somehow was able to believe that his love for me would triumph over his dishonesty, when it came to his dealings with me. That's called denial.
I knew who he was and how he operated in the throes of his addiction to alcohol, yet I deliberately put that knowledge off to the side, and once it was over there, out of my peripheral vision, I could continue daily life as if it didn't exist.
That was a choice, as is every decision to trust or not to trust a choice. I didn't know back then, before Al-Anon, that it was a choice, or that I was making it, but once I did, then the onus is upon me, and I can't put the blame upon the other person anymore. Once I've understood that it's me putting myself into this position, I may feel anger, shame, or distress, and I need to work through my feelings towards myself for having put myself into jeopardy, and then I need to let it go.
I need to trust in my Higher Power, who will never abandon me. I need to face life honestly, no more denial to cushion the unpleasant realities. I want peace, and that requires unflinching acceptance. Acceptance makes life possible with serenity. When I see with clarity, and say, "Yes, I see that it is this way, and I accept it without a fight" I have granted myself freedom.
I came into program a strange mix of distrust and denial, fearful of others, afraid of what I might do, unable to relax for even one minute into confidence in anything or anyone. I learned in the rooms of Al-Anon that before I could have any confidence in myself, I first needed to believe in my own worth, my value as a human being. Once that was established, I could take the next small steps of trusting in my own judgement.
I learned that the world contains many wonderfully delightful people who are a joy to know, and who enrich my life immeasurably. (I couldn't have imagined I'd ever write that sentence, when I was new to program.)
Many of us come into Al-Anon suffering from the effects of too much trust, of denial of the evidence given by our own senses, in favour of what we'd prefer to believe. We turn our faces away from reality when it's presented to us, and wave it off like a bad smell, insisting that it isn't really that, it's this, and this is okay, we can live with this. And then five or ten or fifteen years later, when denial cracks, or the other person forces the reality of who they are into our consciousness, we're devastated. I knew my first husband was dishonest in many ways, I saw it happen daily, but through some convoluted thinking, somehow was able to believe that his love for me would triumph over his dishonesty, when it came to his dealings with me. That's called denial.
I knew who he was and how he operated in the throes of his addiction to alcohol, yet I deliberately put that knowledge off to the side, and once it was over there, out of my peripheral vision, I could continue daily life as if it didn't exist.
That was a choice, as is every decision to trust or not to trust a choice. I didn't know back then, before Al-Anon, that it was a choice, or that I was making it, but once I did, then the onus is upon me, and I can't put the blame upon the other person anymore. Once I've understood that it's me putting myself into this position, I may feel anger, shame, or distress, and I need to work through my feelings towards myself for having put myself into jeopardy, and then I need to let it go.
I need to trust in my Higher Power, who will never abandon me. I need to face life honestly, no more denial to cushion the unpleasant realities. I want peace, and that requires unflinching acceptance. Acceptance makes life possible with serenity. When I see with clarity, and say, "Yes, I see that it is this way, and I accept it without a fight" I have granted myself freedom.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
How Has My Thinking Changed In Al-Anon?
Yesterday, before returning a phone call to someone in need, I asked for help from my Higher Power, closing my eyes for a moment, and saying quietly, "Please make me worthy of this person's trust." And then, in one of those wierd little detached-from-self moments, heard what I was saying, and was for a moment, astounded at the ways this program has changed me.
And then, as is the way of these things, this topic came up in the coffee meeting-after-the-meeting last night - the ways those of us in Al-Anon for many years have changed so dramatically from the person we were when we walked through the door of our first Al-Anon meeting.
Al-Anon may be presented to us at the start as a way to become healthy whether the alcoholic is still drinking or not, but it will also, if we truly take it up and work it, bring about massive changes in our personalities. I was a woman distant from others, carefully locked away in my shame and my secrets. trusting no-one and nothing, with no hope for the future. I was unremittingly negative in my worldview - resentful, frustrated, anxious.
I still get those times, but the difference is that they are periods in my life, now, not my life. I may be feeling like that for an hour or two, or even a day or two when I do some backsliding and don't work my program or forget the wisdom I've been offered, but that is not the essence of me anymore.
Peace has become more important to me than getting my own way in all things. I might be talking to someone, and hear one part of my mind insisting upon being right - perhaps I feel that little rush of irritation I've learned to recognise as a road sign to my character defects. A sign that reads, "Don't go this way, or you'll regret it!"
When I get those messages from myself, I can do the mental equivalent of pushing the complaining insisting part of myself into another room, and gently closing the door, so that my better self can respond with love, respect, and encouragement.
Al-Anon brings out the best in us. Together, we are a powerful force for personal change. Last night, as we stood to say the Serenity Prayer at the close of the meeting, I got a shivery rush up my spine with the combined power of all our voices asking for acceptance, courage, and wisdom.
And then, as is the way of these things, this topic came up in the coffee meeting-after-the-meeting last night - the ways those of us in Al-Anon for many years have changed so dramatically from the person we were when we walked through the door of our first Al-Anon meeting.
Al-Anon may be presented to us at the start as a way to become healthy whether the alcoholic is still drinking or not, but it will also, if we truly take it up and work it, bring about massive changes in our personalities. I was a woman distant from others, carefully locked away in my shame and my secrets. trusting no-one and nothing, with no hope for the future. I was unremittingly negative in my worldview - resentful, frustrated, anxious.
I still get those times, but the difference is that they are periods in my life, now, not my life. I may be feeling like that for an hour or two, or even a day or two when I do some backsliding and don't work my program or forget the wisdom I've been offered, but that is not the essence of me anymore.
Peace has become more important to me than getting my own way in all things. I might be talking to someone, and hear one part of my mind insisting upon being right - perhaps I feel that little rush of irritation I've learned to recognise as a road sign to my character defects. A sign that reads, "Don't go this way, or you'll regret it!"
When I get those messages from myself, I can do the mental equivalent of pushing the complaining insisting part of myself into another room, and gently closing the door, so that my better self can respond with love, respect, and encouragement.
Al-Anon brings out the best in us. Together, we are a powerful force for personal change. Last night, as we stood to say the Serenity Prayer at the close of the meeting, I got a shivery rush up my spine with the combined power of all our voices asking for acceptance, courage, and wisdom.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Common Denominators - Impatience & Intolerance.
For me, these two character defects are closely linked. Intolerance leads to impatience. When I'm not being convinced by intolerance that I know better how someone should think, feel, or behave, I've got endless patience. Conversely, when I'm feeling impatient, it's because I'm viewing another person through a lens of intolerance, and deciding that, measured against my standards of behavior, they fall short.
I was told by a sponsor, that whenever I would exclaim "I'd never do that!" I was demonstrating intolerance. I remember sitting thinking to myself that "all I was doing" was pointing out that my choices were vastly superior to those of the person against whom I was comparing myself. At some point, perhaps after repeated reminders, I vocalised this thinking. And was, as I was so often at the beginning, supremely annoyed to see my sponsor fighting a smile, as she explained that it was somewhat arrogant to describe my choices as "vastly superior."
I've been asked by sponsees how I can describe myself as filled with self-loathing, when I was such an arrogantlittle snot individual. My arrogance was driven by insecurity, a secret belief that I was "not enough." Not tall enough. Not smart enough. Not pretty enough. Not rich enough. My car, clothes, house, none of these were expensive enough. Absolutely nothing in my life was enough. The only thing which ever escaped this incessant measuring-and-falling-short, was my dog. The dogs I've had through the years, were, to me, perfectly beautiful, and perfectly loving.
I had big dogs back then, not mini dachshunds, as I do today, but I've learned that the size of the canine package matters not, even the smallest of them have that amazing dog capacity for love; I think a dog is one of God's greatest gifts. I'd sit on the floor, hugging my dog, and my heart would swell with love and gratitude. I'd walk behind my dog through the woods, or beside the ocean, and feel a grateful contentment in that moment, long before I could identify that feeling.
I had what I once heard described in an open AA meeting as, "low-to-no self-esteem." The only way for me to deal with this, was to pretend first to myself, and then to others around me, that I was superior. I hid in plain sight, since the only person I managed to convince of this was myself - it seems as though it's fairly easy to identify low self-esteem in other people.
So, sneering at the choices of other people was the only way that I could feel a modicum of good feeling about who I was. But that passed off so quickly that I was always trying to find another way in which I could feel better than, superior, far above in knowledge, taste, attitudes, yada yada yada.
Intolerance led to impatience. Impatience tells me that I am being intolerant. And intolerance is never driven by a good feeling, a happy feeling. So when I feel impatient, I've learned to step back from the moment, detach, and ask myself, "What's going on? Am I hungry, angry, lonely, tired? If none of those apply, what's lurking behind the impatience/intolerance? What am I not dealing with, elsewhere in my life?"
It's never about the person cutting in front of me in traffic, or elbowing me out of the way to grab the last item on sale, or snatching away the precise head of lettuce I was aiming to get, or being rude in any one of the myriad ways of which we humans are capable. When I'm in a state of serenity, I can let that rudeness slide right on by, and just - notice it, without an accompanying rush of hot feelings. In serenity, I can wave them in front of me, get that lettuce for them; I can say with a giddy delight to my friend, "Guess I wasn't meant to have one of those sale items today, let's go have coffee," I can respond to rudeness with a calm courtesy that is sincere.
My state of mind affects the way I view my world. My world doesn't change - there's still the same percentage oflunatic misguided drivers on the city streets as any other day - but I'm driving with my Higher Power's love sweetening the air in the car, and I'm at peace with the world.
I was told by a sponsor, that whenever I would exclaim "I'd never do that!" I was demonstrating intolerance. I remember sitting thinking to myself that "all I was doing" was pointing out that my choices were vastly superior to those of the person against whom I was comparing myself. At some point, perhaps after repeated reminders, I vocalised this thinking. And was, as I was so often at the beginning, supremely annoyed to see my sponsor fighting a smile, as she explained that it was somewhat arrogant to describe my choices as "vastly superior."
I've been asked by sponsees how I can describe myself as filled with self-loathing, when I was such an arrogant
I had big dogs back then, not mini dachshunds, as I do today, but I've learned that the size of the canine package matters not, even the smallest of them have that amazing dog capacity for love; I think a dog is one of God's greatest gifts. I'd sit on the floor, hugging my dog, and my heart would swell with love and gratitude. I'd walk behind my dog through the woods, or beside the ocean, and feel a grateful contentment in that moment, long before I could identify that feeling.
I had what I once heard described in an open AA meeting as, "low-to-no self-esteem." The only way for me to deal with this, was to pretend first to myself, and then to others around me, that I was superior. I hid in plain sight, since the only person I managed to convince of this was myself - it seems as though it's fairly easy to identify low self-esteem in other people.
So, sneering at the choices of other people was the only way that I could feel a modicum of good feeling about who I was. But that passed off so quickly that I was always trying to find another way in which I could feel better than, superior, far above in knowledge, taste, attitudes, yada yada yada.
Intolerance led to impatience. Impatience tells me that I am being intolerant. And intolerance is never driven by a good feeling, a happy feeling. So when I feel impatient, I've learned to step back from the moment, detach, and ask myself, "What's going on? Am I hungry, angry, lonely, tired? If none of those apply, what's lurking behind the impatience/intolerance? What am I not dealing with, elsewhere in my life?"
It's never about the person cutting in front of me in traffic, or elbowing me out of the way to grab the last item on sale, or snatching away the precise head of lettuce I was aiming to get, or being rude in any one of the myriad ways of which we humans are capable. When I'm in a state of serenity, I can let that rudeness slide right on by, and just - notice it, without an accompanying rush of hot feelings. In serenity, I can wave them in front of me, get that lettuce for them; I can say with a giddy delight to my friend, "Guess I wasn't meant to have one of those sale items today, let's go have coffee," I can respond to rudeness with a calm courtesy that is sincere.
My state of mind affects the way I view my world. My world doesn't change - there's still the same percentage of
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Common Denominators - Envy.
I'm not a person who is particularly attached to things - I've moved so many times, and sold or given away or donated so much "stuff", that I have zero emotional attachment to furniture, dishes, clothing, any of that sort of thing. It comes, it goes, and one is equally as good as another. What I've envied is people. I've envied my friends and co-workers their loving parents and family.
I was born to alcoholics, and my mother walked out on us when I was two. My father turned us over to the Children's Aid, who separated my sisters and I and placed us into foster homes. When I met my sisters again in my mid twenties, I discovered that we had all been physically and sexually abused while in foster care. There were too many children, not enough foster homes, and a lack of oversight.
Back then, if the case worker thought a child was getting "too attached" to the foster parents, you were moved to a different foster home. I was in foster care for four years, and moved quite a few times. Then, at six years of age, I was adopted. I thought I was finally getting the loving family I'd always dreamed of, but within a very short period of time, I was once again being beaten - this time by my adoptive mother. Her rage terrified me, and she did an excellent job of convincing me that I deserved the abuse I received from her.
I looked at school friends, and their families, and I envied them with a desperation that was almost a physical ache in my chest. I was furiously angry and resentful that I had been "ripped off" when it came to family life. Why me? It wasn't fair.
Al-Anon has allowed me to make peace with my childhood.
That's something I wouldn't have thought possible when I was new to program. Now that I'm safely out of it, I can view my pain as compassion training. I understand sponsees who come into this program with a furious rage burning inside them, and I understand desperate loneliness. I've been there. I know how that feels. I also know that it is possible to heal. Friends in Al-Anon have told me that I have given them hope for themselves when I describe the person I was when I was new in program - vibrating with rage against the unfairness of life, resentful, depressed, despairing. They just can't picture me as that person.
I had to accept that my past was what it was, and I couldn't change it. My only choice was whether or not I allowed the past, and the people who had abused me, to ruin the rest of my life. I will never forget the moment when that idea finally registered with me: I felt the truth of it like a blow, and was staggered by the possibilities. (Until then, I'd been half hearing it, and giving it lip-service in a people-pleasing sort of way.)
I could go to my grave still raging against what had been done to me, or I could make a choice to let it go, start from this moment, and use that lessons of that old pain to be of service now, today.
Now, when I hear people speak of their parents and family with love and gratitude, I can feel happy that they are happy, grateful for their gratitude, without wanting to exchange lives with them.
That's the difference.
I was born to alcoholics, and my mother walked out on us when I was two. My father turned us over to the Children's Aid, who separated my sisters and I and placed us into foster homes. When I met my sisters again in my mid twenties, I discovered that we had all been physically and sexually abused while in foster care. There were too many children, not enough foster homes, and a lack of oversight.
Back then, if the case worker thought a child was getting "too attached" to the foster parents, you were moved to a different foster home. I was in foster care for four years, and moved quite a few times. Then, at six years of age, I was adopted. I thought I was finally getting the loving family I'd always dreamed of, but within a very short period of time, I was once again being beaten - this time by my adoptive mother. Her rage terrified me, and she did an excellent job of convincing me that I deserved the abuse I received from her.
I looked at school friends, and their families, and I envied them with a desperation that was almost a physical ache in my chest. I was furiously angry and resentful that I had been "ripped off" when it came to family life. Why me? It wasn't fair.
Al-Anon has allowed me to make peace with my childhood.
That's something I wouldn't have thought possible when I was new to program. Now that I'm safely out of it, I can view my pain as compassion training. I understand sponsees who come into this program with a furious rage burning inside them, and I understand desperate loneliness. I've been there. I know how that feels. I also know that it is possible to heal. Friends in Al-Anon have told me that I have given them hope for themselves when I describe the person I was when I was new in program - vibrating with rage against the unfairness of life, resentful, depressed, despairing. They just can't picture me as that person.
I had to accept that my past was what it was, and I couldn't change it. My only choice was whether or not I allowed the past, and the people who had abused me, to ruin the rest of my life. I will never forget the moment when that idea finally registered with me: I felt the truth of it like a blow, and was staggered by the possibilities. (Until then, I'd been half hearing it, and giving it lip-service in a people-pleasing sort of way.)
I could go to my grave still raging against what had been done to me, or I could make a choice to let it go, start from this moment, and use that lessons of that old pain to be of service now, today.
Now, when I hear people speak of their parents and family with love and gratitude, I can feel happy that they are happy, grateful for their gratitude, without wanting to exchange lives with them.
That's the difference.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Question.
"Can you give some concrete examples of how you've changed, since being in Al-Anon?"
Here's two from yesterday:
I went for lunch with a friend, to a small coffee shop near here. I ordered decaf, a chicken salad sandwich, and a cup of soup. The soup was barely warm, the coffee didn't come until I'd almost finished eating, and I received an egg salad sandwich instead of chicken salad, and you know what? None of it mattered. It was interesting to notice these things, but I had zero emotional response to them, it was more along the lines of "Look at that, egg instead of chicken - lots of mayonnaise, just the way I like it. This soup is delicious, could be warmer, but tastes marvellous. I'm so grateful to have Mary as my friend, she's a treasure. Oh, here's my coffee, that looks nice and hot. Our waitress has a lovely smile and she's so friendly, I like that in a restaurant."
Before Al-Anon, each of those insignificant things would have annoyed me no end. I'd have complained nonstop to my friend, who wouldn't have been able to enjoy her own lunch for my nattering, and I'd have made us both unhappy with my ranting. Before Al-Anon, if one thing wasn't exactly how I wanted it, everything was ruined. I'd have taken those mistakes personally, and I'd have seen them as just another indication of how lousy my life was, how things never worked out for me, yada yada yada.
I was a chronic complainer, and now I'm not. When I was first learning how, I had to make a conscious effort to be grateful: now it comes naturally.
Later, I was out delivering flyers for the business on the beautiful fall afternoon, and as I started up one driveway, a very large dog came rushing out of the open garage, walking with his tail straight up, slightly stiff-legged, and growling a warning. I decide to respect his request to remove myself from his property, and turned to tuck the flyer into the lattice on the front gate. I felt a warm bump on my thigh, and looked down to see him doing that silly little dance dogs all seem to do when they want attention, tail wagging furiously, and quite delighted with himself. I pulled the flyer from the gate, and as I walked up the drive with him, we had a nice little love-in, consisting of him giving me gentle nudges with his muzzle, and then wiggling happily as I stroked his head. As I left him, I told him to "Stay" and he did. I walked down the driveway feeling grateful for all the dogs I've known and loved, and all the ones I've only met in passing, but still enjoyed.
That got me thinking. about the way that many of my greatest life lessons have arrived looking the way that dog did - a little intimidating. When I've heard, respected and accepted the message, instead of fighting or struggling against it, those lessons have moved me forward in great leaps of understanding. With the understanding, has come a greater sense of peace and serenity.
I used to try to control everything, and now I don't. When the dog comes rushing out to say, "This is MY driveway!" I don't try to cut past him on the grass, I raise a hand in surrender, and say, "Your driveway, right, got it." Respect goes a long way in relationships; most of us just want to be recognised and heard, and once we are, we can relax and say, "You can come in, if you want; I'll walk with you."
Here's two from yesterday:
I went for lunch with a friend, to a small coffee shop near here. I ordered decaf, a chicken salad sandwich, and a cup of soup. The soup was barely warm, the coffee didn't come until I'd almost finished eating, and I received an egg salad sandwich instead of chicken salad, and you know what? None of it mattered. It was interesting to notice these things, but I had zero emotional response to them, it was more along the lines of "Look at that, egg instead of chicken - lots of mayonnaise, just the way I like it. This soup is delicious, could be warmer, but tastes marvellous. I'm so grateful to have Mary as my friend, she's a treasure. Oh, here's my coffee, that looks nice and hot. Our waitress has a lovely smile and she's so friendly, I like that in a restaurant."
Before Al-Anon, each of those insignificant things would have annoyed me no end. I'd have complained nonstop to my friend, who wouldn't have been able to enjoy her own lunch for my nattering, and I'd have made us both unhappy with my ranting. Before Al-Anon, if one thing wasn't exactly how I wanted it, everything was ruined. I'd have taken those mistakes personally, and I'd have seen them as just another indication of how lousy my life was, how things never worked out for me, yada yada yada.
I was a chronic complainer, and now I'm not. When I was first learning how, I had to make a conscious effort to be grateful: now it comes naturally.
Later, I was out delivering flyers for the business on the beautiful fall afternoon, and as I started up one driveway, a very large dog came rushing out of the open garage, walking with his tail straight up, slightly stiff-legged, and growling a warning. I decide to respect his request to remove myself from his property, and turned to tuck the flyer into the lattice on the front gate. I felt a warm bump on my thigh, and looked down to see him doing that silly little dance dogs all seem to do when they want attention, tail wagging furiously, and quite delighted with himself. I pulled the flyer from the gate, and as I walked up the drive with him, we had a nice little love-in, consisting of him giving me gentle nudges with his muzzle, and then wiggling happily as I stroked his head. As I left him, I told him to "Stay" and he did. I walked down the driveway feeling grateful for all the dogs I've known and loved, and all the ones I've only met in passing, but still enjoyed.
That got me thinking. about the way that many of my greatest life lessons have arrived looking the way that dog did - a little intimidating. When I've heard, respected and accepted the message, instead of fighting or struggling against it, those lessons have moved me forward in great leaps of understanding. With the understanding, has come a greater sense of peace and serenity.
I used to try to control everything, and now I don't. When the dog comes rushing out to say, "This is MY driveway!" I don't try to cut past him on the grass, I raise a hand in surrender, and say, "Your driveway, right, got it." Respect goes a long way in relationships; most of us just want to be recognised and heard, and once we are, we can relax and say, "You can come in, if you want; I'll walk with you."
Sunday, August 7, 2011
An Interesting Experience.
Yesterday afternoon, I was out watering the garden, when I was stung at the base of my left thumb. I dropped the hose and ran inside to get anti-histamines - my husband had used them all. I quickly changed my clothes and drove to the drug store to purchase some. I took two while standing in the line to cash out, and hoped they would start working soon. As I was driving out of the parking lot of the store, I could feel the roof of my mouth, my tongue, and my throat beginning to go numb. I turned down the road towards the hospital, and prayed for calmness as I waited at red lights and the numbness in my mouth and throat progressed, and I began to feel as though I were wearing a too-tight shirt. (The literature about anaphylactic shock mentions "a feeling of impending doom" as a possible part of the reaction - I can now say I've experienced that.)
I parked in the Emergency parking lot, and walked quickly into the hospital, not stopping to get a parking ticket for my car. I was taken into the back, an IV port put into my right hand, and a large syringe of medication was shot into me - epinephrine. This is a horrid sensation; I felt the rush of coolness go up my arm, into my heart, and suddenly that felt as though it were going to pound itself out of my chest. I also felt distinctly light-headed and strange. I had three seperate injections before the numbness in my mouth, and tightness in my chest began to go away, and after another long period of observation, I was released.
I walked outside to find a ticket on my windshield, with a notice on the back from the parking company, that if it had been a medical emergency, I could call and speak to one of their representatives about possibly having the ticket cancelled.
The doctor at the hospital gave me a prescription for 2 Epipens, and suggested that I carry them at all times.
The moral of this story is: Check the expiry date of your emergency epinephrine injector regularly, and, if you realise it is out of date, go and get a new one immediately! Don't throw the old one out, and forget to get a new one for 3-4 days - it's the laws of life that you will then get stung, experience a serious reaction, and put your life in jeopardy.
Today, I'm feeling as though I've had a narrow escape for my foolishness.
I parked in the Emergency parking lot, and walked quickly into the hospital, not stopping to get a parking ticket for my car. I was taken into the back, an IV port put into my right hand, and a large syringe of medication was shot into me - epinephrine. This is a horrid sensation; I felt the rush of coolness go up my arm, into my heart, and suddenly that felt as though it were going to pound itself out of my chest. I also felt distinctly light-headed and strange. I had three seperate injections before the numbness in my mouth, and tightness in my chest began to go away, and after another long period of observation, I was released.
I walked outside to find a ticket on my windshield, with a notice on the back from the parking company, that if it had been a medical emergency, I could call and speak to one of their representatives about possibly having the ticket cancelled.
The doctor at the hospital gave me a prescription for 2 Epipens, and suggested that I carry them at all times.
The moral of this story is: Check the expiry date of your emergency epinephrine injector regularly, and, if you realise it is out of date, go and get a new one immediately! Don't throw the old one out, and forget to get a new one for 3-4 days - it's the laws of life that you will then get stung, experience a serious reaction, and put your life in jeopardy.
Today, I'm feeling as though I've had a narrow escape for my foolishness.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
What Are My Options?
I always have choices.
I may not like any of them.
Some days, the choice I make is more choosing the least objectionable option than the most delightful, because the list of choices contains nothing I want. On occasion, that's life. Maturity involves accepting that truth, and making the best of it. Grumbling and protest, uses up energy and time better spent in working to accept that least objectionable option, detaching from it, and moving on with my day.
That's also a choice. It's ok to give myself a short period of time in which to state my dislike about having options which don't appeal to me in any way, but it's counter-productive for me to indulge myself in extended complaint.
Say what I think - to myself, a friend, my Higher Power, and then move on. Let go, and continue to believe that I am safe. Recognise that we all have times in which we are given only options we dislike; I'm not being singled out for this. The world isn't punishing me, it's like housecleaning - there comes a time when I have to dust the blinds, unless I want them to have a strange furry appearance. Dusting the blinds is a royal pain, and I don't want to do it.
Some days, my life choices and working my program is much like dusting the blinds - one slat at a time, until - that's finished, and I can move on.
I may not like any of them.
Some days, the choice I make is more choosing the least objectionable option than the most delightful, because the list of choices contains nothing I want. On occasion, that's life. Maturity involves accepting that truth, and making the best of it. Grumbling and protest, uses up energy and time better spent in working to accept that least objectionable option, detaching from it, and moving on with my day.
That's also a choice. It's ok to give myself a short period of time in which to state my dislike about having options which don't appeal to me in any way, but it's counter-productive for me to indulge myself in extended complaint.
Say what I think - to myself, a friend, my Higher Power, and then move on. Let go, and continue to believe that I am safe. Recognise that we all have times in which we are given only options we dislike; I'm not being singled out for this. The world isn't punishing me, it's like housecleaning - there comes a time when I have to dust the blinds, unless I want them to have a strange furry appearance. Dusting the blinds is a royal pain, and I don't want to do it.
Some days, my life choices and working my program is much like dusting the blinds - one slat at a time, until - that's finished, and I can move on.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Waiting With Good Grace.
The tumour which the vet removed from our little dog's leg yesterday, turned out to be considerably larger than it appeared from the surface. He's sleeping quietly in his carry-kennel. Because of the size of the wound, he must be kept on bed rest for 8-10 days. We have to wait for a week or so to find out what it was. Thanks for the concern and good wishes. I'll let you know, when I know.
I was up early this morning to give him his pain meds, and after doing that, went out to see how the garden was faring, after the pounding rain of last night. Only one rather skinny-stemmed delphinium was irretrievably bent; the rest of the garden was "bowed, but not broken." A few hours of sun, to dry the weight of the water from the leaves and blooms, and there will be no evidence of the beating the garden took from that rain.
I got up today feeling serene and peaceful. I have learned in Al-Anon that I cannot hurry life, my Higher Power, or the world, to accord to my schedule.They each move at their own measure, and I must fit myself to that. If I cannot, I will endure a great deal of unhappiness through my impatience, and all of my self-imposed suffering will not speed things up one smidgen.
I have learned to wait with good grace. Another of the many blessings of this program. Today's reading in Courage to Change speaks of "thinking in extremes." I could relate to that. I was not a person who was able to compromise or adjust; I was rigid in my beliefs, habits, and thought patterns. When I thought in extremes, I sorted others into arbitrary categories, and then dismissed them. This allowed me to get on with the real business of life - worrying.
Today, I can accept that "it is what it is." Railing against reality, hiding from it, ranting about the way it should be: these don't work for me. Prayer works. So does acceptance. Getting on with the daily tasks, keeping a sense of proportion, not taking myself too seriously; those are my better ways of coping, and I owe them all to Al-Anon.
I was up early this morning to give him his pain meds, and after doing that, went out to see how the garden was faring, after the pounding rain of last night. Only one rather skinny-stemmed delphinium was irretrievably bent; the rest of the garden was "bowed, but not broken." A few hours of sun, to dry the weight of the water from the leaves and blooms, and there will be no evidence of the beating the garden took from that rain.
I got up today feeling serene and peaceful. I have learned in Al-Anon that I cannot hurry life, my Higher Power, or the world, to accord to my schedule.They each move at their own measure, and I must fit myself to that. If I cannot, I will endure a great deal of unhappiness through my impatience, and all of my self-imposed suffering will not speed things up one smidgen.
I have learned to wait with good grace. Another of the many blessings of this program. Today's reading in Courage to Change speaks of "thinking in extremes." I could relate to that. I was not a person who was able to compromise or adjust; I was rigid in my beliefs, habits, and thought patterns. When I thought in extremes, I sorted others into arbitrary categories, and then dismissed them. This allowed me to get on with the real business of life - worrying.
Today, I can accept that "it is what it is." Railing against reality, hiding from it, ranting about the way it should be: these don't work for me. Prayer works. So does acceptance. Getting on with the daily tasks, keeping a sense of proportion, not taking myself too seriously; those are my better ways of coping, and I owe them all to Al-Anon.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
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."
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."
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Arguments and Self-Control.
I was reminded recently, of a tip my first sponsor gave to me, when I begged her for a way to avoid getting caught up in the endless, ridiculous, upsetting arguments my first husband so loved. She called it "ten-thousand counting." One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, etc, counted off silently inside one's head, until that first rush of angry desire to respond in kind passed away, and sanity reasserted itself. In effect, what I was doing, was waiting out my own emotional reactions.
Another tip, was the novel idea that I "didn't have to attend every argument to which I was invited." When the alcoholic flung angry accusations, I didn't have to defend myelf. When slighting statements regarding my character and personality were made, I didn't have to argue that they weren't true. I could say one of those marvellous little phrases she taught:
"You could be right."
"Oh yeah." (said not in a challenging tone, but in the tone one uses when bored senseless, but feeling the need to make some sort of response to prove we are still awake)
Later in program, I learned to use "broken record" - one statement, repeated and repeated, as many times as required, until the listener hears us - this may take a while. It's very effective, because it doesn't allow the argumentative one to haul us down one of those side roads.
I have found self-control can be a matter of a second's choice to keep my mouth firmly closed, regardless of how overwhelming is my desire to open it. I have found it helpful to stay silent long enough to consider my motive in speaking - am I offering information, setting a boundary, or giving in to a desire to control?
I heard someone in a meeting joke that he was amazed how every year, when he turned to January 1st, in One Day At A Time In Al-Anon, and Courage to Change, the daily Al-Anon reading books, he was astounded to discover that somehow, his Higher Power had rewritten the darn things, because he was utterly convinced he'd never read that passage in all the years he'd had the book....
I find these little books of great help, because they remind me of program wisdom at times when I cannot recall it on my own. "Ten-thousand counting," followed by the polite excusing of myself, and the reading of some Al-Anon literature, teaches me self-control. I'm a work in progress, and always will be; I've come to terms with that. I try not to berate myself (don't always manage that, either) when I realise I've done it again, whatever "it" is. I work for forgiveness of myself, and pray for awareness and acceptance, so that next time, my action is a healthy one.
Now and then, my little dog will be unable to resist chewing just the outer edge of a piece of paper left within her reach, into a soggy mess. I will come back into a room, glance over at her, see her sitting, head drooping, the picture of guilty misery, and that's how I know that she's been naughty. Chewing a piece of paper is pretty mild in the list of dog sins; I don't know if her previous owner chastised her for paper chewing too severely, or why she seems so distressed afterwards - I never catch her at it, and am no good at disciplining her anyway, because I love her so. I can't bear to upset her tiny loving self. I clear it up, while she sighs heavily, and can't make eye contact, silly creature.
I wonder why she does it, when she seems to feel so bad about it afterwards? Perhaps for the same reason I've done the things I knew I was better off not doing: being unable or unwilling to resist the urge. I pray for the strength and self-control to resist the urgings of my lesser self, and for tolerance of the alcoholic, so that I do not take their illness personally.
Another tip, was the novel idea that I "didn't have to attend every argument to which I was invited." When the alcoholic flung angry accusations, I didn't have to defend myelf. When slighting statements regarding my character and personality were made, I didn't have to argue that they weren't true. I could say one of those marvellous little phrases she taught:
"You could be right."
"Oh yeah." (said not in a challenging tone, but in the tone one uses when bored senseless, but feeling the need to make some sort of response to prove we are still awake)
Later in program, I learned to use "broken record" - one statement, repeated and repeated, as many times as required, until the listener hears us - this may take a while. It's very effective, because it doesn't allow the argumentative one to haul us down one of those side roads.
I have found self-control can be a matter of a second's choice to keep my mouth firmly closed, regardless of how overwhelming is my desire to open it. I have found it helpful to stay silent long enough to consider my motive in speaking - am I offering information, setting a boundary, or giving in to a desire to control?
I heard someone in a meeting joke that he was amazed how every year, when he turned to January 1st, in One Day At A Time In Al-Anon, and Courage to Change, the daily Al-Anon reading books, he was astounded to discover that somehow, his Higher Power had rewritten the darn things, because he was utterly convinced he'd never read that passage in all the years he'd had the book....
I find these little books of great help, because they remind me of program wisdom at times when I cannot recall it on my own. "Ten-thousand counting," followed by the polite excusing of myself, and the reading of some Al-Anon literature, teaches me self-control. I'm a work in progress, and always will be; I've come to terms with that. I try not to berate myself (don't always manage that, either) when I realise I've done it again, whatever "it" is. I work for forgiveness of myself, and pray for awareness and acceptance, so that next time, my action is a healthy one.
I wonder why she does it, when she seems to feel so bad about it afterwards? Perhaps for the same reason I've done the things I knew I was better off not doing: being unable or unwilling to resist the urge. I pray for the strength and self-control to resist the urgings of my lesser self, and for tolerance of the alcoholic, so that I do not take their illness personally.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
It's All Relative, Ch 2
Yesterday, I was headed out to do something for the business, feeling hard done by, tired, and sorry for myself. I pulled up to a stoplight, and saw a young man out in the rain, carrying a sign reading, "BROKE. Hungry. Anything Helps!" I thought about the level of desperation he must feel, to be willing to stand in public with his sign, all the time getting wetter and colder, in the hopes that someone would help him. I watched as a driver a few cars in front of me handed him an orange, and seeing the way he responded to that orange, as if he'd been given a precious gift, I suddenly felt very ashamed of my bad attitude.
I had just had a very satisfactory lunch, eaten in a nice warm house, with a good book, and some dogs for company, then gotten into my warm comfortable car to drive to my destination, and I was feeling sorry for myself? I drove to the grocery store, bought some food, took it back, and gave it to the young man. I then went on with my day, but the lesson has stuck with me. It takes not very much, and we can find ourselves in that young man's position. I'm familiar with food banks through the volunteer work I did for many years, and they can barely give enough food to keep a small woman going - tall young men who are continuously hungry have to find ways to supplement that, or their health begins to suffer.
It's easy to judge and condemn and mutter darkly that people should go get a job, but the ugly truth is that entry level jobs in this country no longer pay a living wage. By the time a person pays rent and utilities on minimum wage, there isn't enough money left over for much in the way of food. We have many hundreds of thousands of hungry people getting up every day with not enough food to carry them through the month, and food banks are stretched far beyond their capabilities.
I live a comfortable life. When I'm hungry, I go into the kitchen and make myself a meal. When I'm chilly, I put on a sweater, and turn up the heat. Many people can't afford both, they have to choose between one and the other.
That young man brought home to me, once again, the reality that when I'm feeling self-pity, and hard done by, it's because my other basic needs are taken care of, and I have the luxury of thinking about myself instead. In truth, I don't have much in the way of problems. It's all relative, and relatively speaking, I've been blessed.
I had just had a very satisfactory lunch, eaten in a nice warm house, with a good book, and some dogs for company, then gotten into my warm comfortable car to drive to my destination, and I was feeling sorry for myself? I drove to the grocery store, bought some food, took it back, and gave it to the young man. I then went on with my day, but the lesson has stuck with me. It takes not very much, and we can find ourselves in that young man's position. I'm familiar with food banks through the volunteer work I did for many years, and they can barely give enough food to keep a small woman going - tall young men who are continuously hungry have to find ways to supplement that, or their health begins to suffer.
It's easy to judge and condemn and mutter darkly that people should go get a job, but the ugly truth is that entry level jobs in this country no longer pay a living wage. By the time a person pays rent and utilities on minimum wage, there isn't enough money left over for much in the way of food. We have many hundreds of thousands of hungry people getting up every day with not enough food to carry them through the month, and food banks are stretched far beyond their capabilities.
I live a comfortable life. When I'm hungry, I go into the kitchen and make myself a meal. When I'm chilly, I put on a sweater, and turn up the heat. Many people can't afford both, they have to choose between one and the other.
That young man brought home to me, once again, the reality that when I'm feeling self-pity, and hard done by, it's because my other basic needs are taken care of, and I have the luxury of thinking about myself instead. In truth, I don't have much in the way of problems. It's all relative, and relatively speaking, I've been blessed.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Immaturity
I've heard it said that an alcoholic will stop maturing emotionally, at approximately the same age they began to drink. I have seen ample proof of this - men and women who are in middle age, yet act as though they'd never made it past puberty. They can be champion sulkers, have trouble with authority figures, be stubborn in self-defeating ways, all manner of childish behavior.
This can be one of the most infuriating issues with which those who love them, we co-dependents, have to deal. Some days, I could be a public service ad for the way Al-Anon helps us to mature - I keep my cool, I repeat what I have to say calmly and clearly until I am heard ( broken record) I detach with love. Other days, I do not manage it near so well. I become irritated and begin to get sucked into the circular reasoning, and I feel self-pityingly angry that I'm still dealing with this, at my age! It's not fair! (now that is a child's cry, if ever I've heard one)
I backslide, I lose my focus, I just can't cope with it. Tonight, I arrived home after having been out doing a favour for the alcoholic, feeling exhausted, cold and wet. I wanted to be met with care and concern - being met with another demand before I'd even taken off my coat and shoes felt intolerable - and I said so, knowing as I spoke, that I'd probably be punished for this later on with an angry outburst on some other topic.
True to form, this did take place. I was hungry, angry, lonely and tired. I sat on a kitchen chair, feeling completely done in - emptied out, with nothing to give myself, or anyone else. I thought of my having agreed to meet a sponsee for coffee and a talk in a few hours, and wished I could stay home and collapse. I forced myself into the shower, made a salad I didn't have time to eat, shoved it into the fridge for later, and off I went to meet my sponsee.
I drove to the coffeehouse feeling sad, exhausted, self-pitying, irritated, and probably "unreasonable without knowing it." But I love this woman I was going to meet - she has a delicious sense of humour, and a kind heart, so I knew I'd feel better after being with her for a while. I knew we'd cover lots of ground, and it would all be good. And it was, of course, in the way it always is - we receive a thousand times more than we ever give to those we sponsor, if they only knew it.
I drove home 2 hours later, feeling immense gratitude. I was going home to a delicious salad (mandarin orange slices, mmmm!) which I was going to eat in a warm room with two beautiful canine companions. My alcoholic may be relatively new to AA - but he is there, and he's working his program as best he can - there's hope in my home.
When I'm hungry/angry/lonely/tired, life's problems can feel monumental. I can feel as if there is no way on earth for me to manage or surmount them. Self-care isn't just bubblebaths and manicures.
Self-care is not allowing the view of the world which presents itself to us when we are at our lowest point, to be accepted as the one and only truth.
This can be one of the most infuriating issues with which those who love them, we co-dependents, have to deal. Some days, I could be a public service ad for the way Al-Anon helps us to mature - I keep my cool, I repeat what I have to say calmly and clearly until I am heard ( broken record) I detach with love. Other days, I do not manage it near so well. I become irritated and begin to get sucked into the circular reasoning, and I feel self-pityingly angry that I'm still dealing with this, at my age! It's not fair! (now that is a child's cry, if ever I've heard one)
I backslide, I lose my focus, I just can't cope with it. Tonight, I arrived home after having been out doing a favour for the alcoholic, feeling exhausted, cold and wet. I wanted to be met with care and concern - being met with another demand before I'd even taken off my coat and shoes felt intolerable - and I said so, knowing as I spoke, that I'd probably be punished for this later on with an angry outburst on some other topic.
True to form, this did take place. I was hungry, angry, lonely and tired. I sat on a kitchen chair, feeling completely done in - emptied out, with nothing to give myself, or anyone else. I thought of my having agreed to meet a sponsee for coffee and a talk in a few hours, and wished I could stay home and collapse. I forced myself into the shower, made a salad I didn't have time to eat, shoved it into the fridge for later, and off I went to meet my sponsee.
I drove to the coffeehouse feeling sad, exhausted, self-pitying, irritated, and probably "unreasonable without knowing it." But I love this woman I was going to meet - she has a delicious sense of humour, and a kind heart, so I knew I'd feel better after being with her for a while. I knew we'd cover lots of ground, and it would all be good. And it was, of course, in the way it always is - we receive a thousand times more than we ever give to those we sponsor, if they only knew it.
I drove home 2 hours later, feeling immense gratitude. I was going home to a delicious salad (mandarin orange slices, mmmm!) which I was going to eat in a warm room with two beautiful canine companions. My alcoholic may be relatively new to AA - but he is there, and he's working his program as best he can - there's hope in my home.
When I'm hungry/angry/lonely/tired, life's problems can feel monumental. I can feel as if there is no way on earth for me to manage or surmount them. Self-care isn't just bubblebaths and manicures.
Self-care is not allowing the view of the world which presents itself to us when we are at our lowest point, to be accepted as the one and only truth.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
"I've Decided Not To Go Tonight, Because ..."
I like to say this to my spouse, who will make noises of agreement and support, knowing full well that all I'm doing, is giving myself permission not to go to my meeting, on nights when it's hard to pull myself out the door. This doesn't mean I'm staying home; it's being said in the minute before I haul myself to my feet, and walk down the hall, to go get ready.
This may sound silly, but it works for me. In doing Step Four: "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves," I've discovered that I have a secretly rebellious streak. Just let me get the idea that I'm being expected to do whatever it is, and that (childish) part of me will begin to mutter darkly in the background, insisting that I don't have to do anything I don't want to, and nobody can make me do anything, and all manner of variations on that theme.
I've learned that rather than argue with my sulking inner child, it's much better to just agree with her, and continue along my adult path. (Do I sound as though I've got multiple personalities, here? Just an analogy - no actual voices arguing inside my head.)
I've learned that if I give myself permission to not do whatever it is that my rebellious streak is up in arms about, whether that be my yoga exercises, walking the dogs in the rain, cleaning the bathroom, or going to a meeting, I can sidestep all that mulishness.
MrSponsorPants has a good post today about making sure that we are listening to others, and truly hearing them. I've discovered through working my program, that I need to do this for myself, as well. I cannot ride roughshod over myself, insisting that my responsibilites require that I ____, and if I were truly mature I would ____, and I am bloody well going to do ____, whether I like it or not. This may work for some, this taking of self firmly in hand, but it often will not work for me.
It sets me up for failure, because the rebellious part of my nature will begin to place roadblocks in my path, trip me up time and again, anything to assert my independence, no matter how self-defeating the result.
I think of the years I spent pre-Al-Anon, trying and failing to force change upon myself, and in the process, waging an internal war. I recall how confused I was about my own behavior; I didn't know myself. I didn't understand that the abuse in childhood, had robbed me of my ability to feel as if I had any rights at all in life, so when I reached adulthood, all I had left to sustain me was my silently livid, internal rebellion.
I have learned that I need to listen to myself grumbling away: allow that part of me to feel heard: agree that yes, it is within my rights to not do this thing. In the strange alchemy of self-willfullness, the moment I do this giving of permission, is the moment that the internal resistance melts away, and I can get up and go do it. Strange but true, and I'd never have figured this out, if I hadn't been willing to do a Step Four. And then another and another, as I work my way down through the levels of excavation of self.
I love this program, for all that it has given me, in so many areas of my life.
This may sound silly, but it works for me. In doing Step Four: "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves," I've discovered that I have a secretly rebellious streak. Just let me get the idea that I'm being expected to do whatever it is, and that (childish) part of me will begin to mutter darkly in the background, insisting that I don't have to do anything I don't want to, and nobody can make me do anything, and all manner of variations on that theme.
I've learned that rather than argue with my sulking inner child, it's much better to just agree with her, and continue along my adult path. (Do I sound as though I've got multiple personalities, here? Just an analogy - no actual voices arguing inside my head.)
I've learned that if I give myself permission to not do whatever it is that my rebellious streak is up in arms about, whether that be my yoga exercises, walking the dogs in the rain, cleaning the bathroom, or going to a meeting, I can sidestep all that mulishness.
MrSponsorPants has a good post today about making sure that we are listening to others, and truly hearing them. I've discovered through working my program, that I need to do this for myself, as well. I cannot ride roughshod over myself, insisting that my responsibilites require that I ____, and if I were truly mature I would ____, and I am bloody well going to do ____, whether I like it or not. This may work for some, this taking of self firmly in hand, but it often will not work for me.
It sets me up for failure, because the rebellious part of my nature will begin to place roadblocks in my path, trip me up time and again, anything to assert my independence, no matter how self-defeating the result.
I think of the years I spent pre-Al-Anon, trying and failing to force change upon myself, and in the process, waging an internal war. I recall how confused I was about my own behavior; I didn't know myself. I didn't understand that the abuse in childhood, had robbed me of my ability to feel as if I had any rights at all in life, so when I reached adulthood, all I had left to sustain me was my silently livid, internal rebellion.
I have learned that I need to listen to myself grumbling away: allow that part of me to feel heard: agree that yes, it is within my rights to not do this thing. In the strange alchemy of self-willfullness, the moment I do this giving of permission, is the moment that the internal resistance melts away, and I can get up and go do it. Strange but true, and I'd never have figured this out, if I hadn't been willing to do a Step Four. And then another and another, as I work my way down through the levels of excavation of self.
I love this program, for all that it has given me, in so many areas of my life.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Admitting Our Imperfections.
Why is this so hard for most of us? Why do we kick and scream, (or if you have a different personality, sulk and emit poisonous waves of sullenness) when it's suggested to us in Al-Anon, that we too, are imperfect, and that we can improve our lives greatly by trying to do something about that fact, rather than change someone else?
I used to worry about the way other people would think about me, if I ever admitted to being wrong, or being weak, or being imperfect. My sponsor called me up one day, laughing; told me she'd just come across the perfect quotation for us, which we should write out and put up somewhere we could read it many times in a day:
"You wouldn't worry so much about what other people think of you, if you knew how seldom they did."
I, of course was deeply offended, but tried to pretend that I wasn't. I'd learned fairly quickly that although my sponsor was a woman who had enormous empathy for other's sufferings, she had little patience for me, when I was having a hissy fit, and being offended. She was well-acquainted with that defense mechanism, having used it herself for years. She'd pointed out to me that when she was offended, it was usually because she knew that what had been said was the truth, and she didn't want to face it. She suggested that next time, I try putting aside my desire to take offense, and work to be honest with myself - was I being offered a chance to see myself more clearly?
Most of the time, that's just what's happening: I only ever seem to feel upset in that precise way, unless I am recognising the truth about myself: my character, and habits of thinking. When, in the past, I've chosen to take offense, it has been an effective way to push that truth aside, and concentrate instead on the failings of the messenger - so rude! So tactless! etc etc, and after a while, I'd be wallowing in a stew of self-righteous indignation, and the chance for me to learn and grow, would pass on by, forgotten.
This week, I was finding it increasingly difficult not to worry and stress over an issue in my life. My present sponsor, is a wise woman with many years in program, and when I talk to her about something with which I'm wrestling, she always emphasises asking my Higher Power for guidance. When I did, the guidance came in the form of a realisation about a decision I'd made a while ago. I was granted the ability to see it from another angle, to realise that while some of the reasons behind it were healthy - not enabling, not allowing the other person to take advantage of me - another part of the motivation for that decision was a desire to punish by withdrawing my support. I realised that I needed to make an amend.
That wasn't an easy amend to make, because in order to do it cleanly, I needed to admit to my less-than-delightful motives. I had to say, "I was wrong to do this, and this is why."
I've been in Al-Anon for quite a while, and there are still amends which curl my teeth to make, because I have to admit my lesser qualities. I will always have to admit to my lesser qualities, because I will always be imperfect.
Once the amend had been made, and we were talking about it, I was given the further realisation that on some level, I'd been uncomfortable with my decision from the start, but had been refusing to allow that discomfort headroom, because if I did, I might have to reconsider.
For me, when I admit my imperfections, it is always better afterwards. That "better" can range from the lightly giddy feeling of a clean conscience, to improved intimacy with whomever, to doors opening in my life. There is no downside to this that I've ever found, so why do I still occasionally find it difficult?
I think because of pride - I don't want to admit that I am still prompted by those imperfections, that there are going to be times when my decisions are made while I'm in the grip of my frailties and character defects. I want to be "all better now."
I can forgive other people their character defects, but I still judge myself for mine,
now and then.
So it goes. The sun is shining, and I'm feeling relieved.
I used to worry about the way other people would think about me, if I ever admitted to being wrong, or being weak, or being imperfect. My sponsor called me up one day, laughing; told me she'd just come across the perfect quotation for us, which we should write out and put up somewhere we could read it many times in a day:
"You wouldn't worry so much about what other people think of you, if you knew how seldom they did."
I, of course was deeply offended, but tried to pretend that I wasn't. I'd learned fairly quickly that although my sponsor was a woman who had enormous empathy for other's sufferings, she had little patience for me, when I was having a hissy fit, and being offended. She was well-acquainted with that defense mechanism, having used it herself for years. She'd pointed out to me that when she was offended, it was usually because she knew that what had been said was the truth, and she didn't want to face it. She suggested that next time, I try putting aside my desire to take offense, and work to be honest with myself - was I being offered a chance to see myself more clearly?
Most of the time, that's just what's happening: I only ever seem to feel upset in that precise way, unless I am recognising the truth about myself: my character, and habits of thinking. When, in the past, I've chosen to take offense, it has been an effective way to push that truth aside, and concentrate instead on the failings of the messenger - so rude! So tactless! etc etc, and after a while, I'd be wallowing in a stew of self-righteous indignation, and the chance for me to learn and grow, would pass on by, forgotten.
This week, I was finding it increasingly difficult not to worry and stress over an issue in my life. My present sponsor, is a wise woman with many years in program, and when I talk to her about something with which I'm wrestling, she always emphasises asking my Higher Power for guidance. When I did, the guidance came in the form of a realisation about a decision I'd made a while ago. I was granted the ability to see it from another angle, to realise that while some of the reasons behind it were healthy - not enabling, not allowing the other person to take advantage of me - another part of the motivation for that decision was a desire to punish by withdrawing my support. I realised that I needed to make an amend.
That wasn't an easy amend to make, because in order to do it cleanly, I needed to admit to my less-than-delightful motives. I had to say, "I was wrong to do this, and this is why."
I've been in Al-Anon for quite a while, and there are still amends which curl my teeth to make, because I have to admit my lesser qualities. I will always have to admit to my lesser qualities, because I will always be imperfect.
Once the amend had been made, and we were talking about it, I was given the further realisation that on some level, I'd been uncomfortable with my decision from the start, but had been refusing to allow that discomfort headroom, because if I did, I might have to reconsider.
For me, when I admit my imperfections, it is always better afterwards. That "better" can range from the lightly giddy feeling of a clean conscience, to improved intimacy with whomever, to doors opening in my life. There is no downside to this that I've ever found, so why do I still occasionally find it difficult?
I think because of pride - I don't want to admit that I am still prompted by those imperfections, that there are going to be times when my decisions are made while I'm in the grip of my frailties and character defects. I want to be "all better now."
I can forgive other people their character defects, but I still judge myself for mine,
now and then.
So it goes. The sun is shining, and I'm feeling relieved.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
What Would Happen If I Didn't _____?
That question is one that we do well to ask ourselves. So much of our behavior is by habit, by rote, by unquestioning following of the same track round and round. So it has been done ... so it always will be done - plod, plod.
Al-Anon was the very first place where it was suggested to me that I could choose a different way. Instead of doing the same things over and over, hoping for a different result, I found sufficient relief from the pain, to be able to stop and consider: was this rational? Was this even possible? I think I moved through all the stages of grief in the ending of my first marriage - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
I had to let go of all my old ways of thinking, seeing, and doing, and be willing to try something new - Step Two:
"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."
I didn't have to try the new at that stage, I only had to have reached a place where I believed it possible that a power greater than myself existed.
Arrogance is one of the normal human frailties, and one with which I've grappled in close personal contact; I like to be right. (No, be honest, I love to be right.) My maturity has been a slow progression:
- from denying my arrogance, heedless of the pain dealt to myself and others by my being oblivious to this character defect,
-to awareness of my arrogance, and the shame and remorse which ensued,
-to working to "practise these principles in all our affairs", meaning that I strive to catch myself much earlier in the proceedings: let go of my arrogance and desire to be "right",
- to finding a different way to be satisfied.
If I am satisfied only if I "win" an argument, I have no motivation to stop fighting. I have had to choose another definition of "satisfied" - one in which I accept my powerless over other people, and am satisfied when I see that this time, I have chosen the healthy way to deal with conflict. I can feel self-love and self-respect when I make these different choices. I can then save up the energy which would have been expended upon the conflict, and splash out with it, on a pleasurable activity, whatever that may be for me.
I pray to be paying attention more often, and to decide that this time, I am not going to ____, I'm going to work my program.
Al-Anon was the very first place where it was suggested to me that I could choose a different way. Instead of doing the same things over and over, hoping for a different result, I found sufficient relief from the pain, to be able to stop and consider: was this rational? Was this even possible? I think I moved through all the stages of grief in the ending of my first marriage - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.
I had to let go of all my old ways of thinking, seeing, and doing, and be willing to try something new - Step Two:
"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."
I didn't have to try the new at that stage, I only had to have reached a place where I believed it possible that a power greater than myself existed.
Arrogance is one of the normal human frailties, and one with which I've grappled in close personal contact; I like to be right. (No, be honest, I love to be right.) My maturity has been a slow progression:
- from denying my arrogance, heedless of the pain dealt to myself and others by my being oblivious to this character defect,
-to awareness of my arrogance, and the shame and remorse which ensued,
-to working to "practise these principles in all our affairs", meaning that I strive to catch myself much earlier in the proceedings: let go of my arrogance and desire to be "right",
- to finding a different way to be satisfied.
If I am satisfied only if I "win" an argument, I have no motivation to stop fighting. I have had to choose another definition of "satisfied" - one in which I accept my powerless over other people, and am satisfied when I see that this time, I have chosen the healthy way to deal with conflict. I can feel self-love and self-respect when I make these different choices. I can then save up the energy which would have been expended upon the conflict, and splash out with it, on a pleasurable activity, whatever that may be for me.
I pray to be paying attention more often, and to decide that this time, I am not going to ____, I'm going to work my program.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Rigidity Of Thought.
I had an experience recently, in which I was confronted with the fact that I am still, even after many years in program, able to get caught up in rigidity of thinking. I think I am bendable, but then an occasion will arise, and (always only in retrospect, of course) I will see afterwards, that I've done it again.
I'd prefer to view this character trait as I did before Al-Anon, as "having exacting standards," and "wanting precision in all things" but the reality is far more along the lines of "being inflexible because of an underlying belief that I'm right."
When I follow the thought process to its conclusion, I can see that the road originates, as so many of them do, in fear. I have a fear that if I don't express my (unsolicited) opinion, I may lose something I value greatly, through watching it be slowly watered down or changed, while I sit and say nothing.
And since I'm trying to speak up more, I can get carried away, and start giving my opinion about something that is none of my business, which is what I've done recently.
So then, it's back to working the Steps, practise Step Ten:
"Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it."
I'm so grateful for this Step - it keeps me clear that I will always be being wrong, and that I need to admit it, make an amend, and do these two things in a timely manner.
I have no control over whether or not my amend is accepted, but if I am sincere in making it, and state my apology in no uncertain terms, with an explanation of how I believe I went wrong - that's all I can do.
I can't go back in time and make my wrong not happen, but I can learn from this one, so that I'm more careful and thoughtful in the same situation next time, and I can make an amend for this one.
I'd prefer to view this character trait as I did before Al-Anon, as "having exacting standards," and "wanting precision in all things" but the reality is far more along the lines of "being inflexible because of an underlying belief that I'm right."
When I follow the thought process to its conclusion, I can see that the road originates, as so many of them do, in fear. I have a fear that if I don't express my (unsolicited) opinion, I may lose something I value greatly, through watching it be slowly watered down or changed, while I sit and say nothing.
And since I'm trying to speak up more, I can get carried away, and start giving my opinion about something that is none of my business, which is what I've done recently.
So then, it's back to working the Steps, practise Step Ten:
"Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it."
I'm so grateful for this Step - it keeps me clear that I will always be being wrong, and that I need to admit it, make an amend, and do these two things in a timely manner.
I have no control over whether or not my amend is accepted, but if I am sincere in making it, and state my apology in no uncertain terms, with an explanation of how I believe I went wrong - that's all I can do.
I can't go back in time and make my wrong not happen, but I can learn from this one, so that I'm more careful and thoughtful in the same situation next time, and I can make an amend for this one.
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