'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.

Common Denominators - Lying.

In Al-Anon, I've learned that dishonesty takes many forms. I lived 28 years believing I was an honest person because I didn't try to cheat on my income tax, or shoplift, although that may have been motivated more by a fear of the consequences than from any high moral ground, since in my personal life, I lied continually. I lied to the alcoholic about my true feelings. I lied to friends that I was "fine
I was a craven people-pleaser. I lied to myself through the use of denial.

It was a long hard haul uphill to be able to get to a place of acceptance about my dishonesty, forgive myself for it, and try a different way to live. As so many of us may do, I swung to the other extreme, and began speaking up when I should have said nothing, because my motivation wasn't good. Slowly, I settled into my comfort zone - when giving my opinion wouldn't be appropriate, I will either remain silent, or make one of those noises that mean, "Yes, I'm listening, please continue." If pressed to give an opinion when I don't wish to, I will say that I "don't have an opinion worth sharing."

I try to be honest with myself about what I'm doing - my motives.

I don't pretend to the alcoholic that I like what I do not like, or accept that which I find unacceptable. When I feel the necessity, I can say what I think, or feel, in a way that does not challenge or invite an argument, but is a simple statement of fact about me.


 Until about 3 years ago, the latter was not the case. I had good recovery in some areas, but I had a massive denial going about my relationship with my alcoholic spouse. During the many years we've been married, I had gradually allowed my boundaries to be shoved a long way back. I had accepted a lot of "jokes" that were nothing of the kind. I'd fallen into some old habits, and I was unhappy and frustrated. When the time came, and my Higher Power revealed this to me, I was stunned. I had entered this relationship when I was still quite new to Al-Anon, new enough to believe that sobriety was the same as recovery, and denial took over when I started to realise that the two are not synonymous.

Since we can't change what we don't acknowledge, facing reality is the first step on the path to change.
My rededication to honesty in my marriage caused a lot of hassle and stress, as the other person tried to force things to go back to what they had been, through a fair bit of acting out and manipulation. That was rough, but with the help of my sponsor, and my program friends, I made it through without capitulating, and things have been vastly better between us. He's very involved in AA, now, and that's a good thing.

None of that would have happened, had I not been willing to be honest with myself.

Judgement.

I met with a sponsee yesterday, and the topic of judgement arose, as it so often does with those of us in Al-Anon. I came into this program with the firm belief that it was not merely acceptable for me to judge other people, but a necessity, to keep myself safe.

When my sponsor tried to show me that I was constricting myself with my judgements of others, I didn't get it. I judged her for not judging. I marshaled all the usual reasons for my thinking, and carried on, secure in the knowledge that I was right, and she was wrong. Loving, kind, accepting, wise in so many respects, but in this area, somehow confused and mistaken.

When I am loving and accepting, I'm open to my Higher Power; when I'm in judgement mode, I'm choosing to close myself off, and live inside that tiny box of self.

I'm not suggesting for a moment that I live in complete acceptance of everyone and everything - my ego is still far too strong to allow me an unrestricted journey. It offers me suggestions on how to think on a regular basis, and is particularly vociferous when I'm hungry, angry, lonely, tired - HALT. Then it's up on the soapbox declaiming about this, that and the other thing, and it takes concerted effort on my part to remember to stop what I'm doing, close my eyes (or not, if I'm driving) and ask my Higher Power to "please take this, I don't want to feel this way."

When I ask, I always get relief. That yapping in my head is quieted to a indistinguishable murmur, and I feel love, acceptance, serenity. It's my choice - do I want to have that channel to my HP open, and feel that loving wonder? It's hard to imagine not wanting it, but the ego is amazingly strong in us. Ego tells us many stories; before Al-Anon, I thought my ego was honest with me, only telling me the truth.  Regular, daily practise of Step 10 has made it very clear that my ego is often wrong. Spectacularly wrong, too, not just slightly mistaken.  I'm tired of listening to my ego. I want peace. I can only achieve peace when I'm willing to let go of judgement.

When I realised how simple it is, I couldn't believe it. You mean all I have to do is ask?  But what about all these other complications?

The longer I'm in Al-Anon, the simpler my life becomes.
I've only recently gotten over what felt like a major hurdle with regard to my spouse, and my judgements about what he should or should not be doing, in and out of his program. From the other side, that hurdle was massive, huge, it blocked the light, it made forward motion impossible, I couldn't imagine how I was going to get over that one, or even if I wanted to, in truth.

Until I decided to surrender completely, and ask my HP for help. Up until then, I thought I was surrendering, but I wasn't; I'd always kept a little piece of it aside, and that piece was a judgement. My HP can't get to me, if I've closed myself off with a judgement. The door only opens from one side. My side.

And finding myself on this side of it, I'm trying to see where exactly it was - you mean that barely distinguishable wrinkle was my hurdle? But that's impossible! It was massive, huge, it blocked the light. I couldn't get past it, I...wow. Just that little wrinkle, that's what I've been trying to get over all this time? It's funny. It sure wasn't funny from the other side, but on this side, it's hilarious.

I pray to always want to be more loving, more accepting, to keep that door to my HP standing wide open, and propped open with the rock of Al-Anon.

Dominance and Powerlessness.

A friend used to have a small dog, who was on a continual quest to find a larger dog to bully. He could never leave well enough alone; always had to push it just that one bit further, and then - smackdown! He'd find himself on the ground, belly-up, with teeth hovering over his neck, and a strong warning being growled into his ear. (He reminded me of my first husband - seemed to thrive on conflict.)

At the time, I had a large Lab cross who was only interested in sticks, balls, or anything which could be thrown and retrieved. She dealt with my friend's dog by not dealing with him - it was as though he didn't exist. Until one day when he had been posturing and prancing about in front of her, ignored as usual, and for whatever reason, decided to give her a nip on the leg.

My dog dropped the stick she'd been holding, peeled her lips back from her teeth, put her head down, and slowly advanced upon him, legs stiff, ruff up, tail held straight out - very threatening body language.

My friend's dog realised that he had gone too far, and began to ever-so-slowly back up. My dog kept advancing, and he kept retreating, and she backed him one circuit around the yard, until he finally dropped to the ground and rolled over in the canine gesture of submission.

My dog grasped his throat in her jaws and held him for a long moment, then let go, shook herself, and trotted back to get her stick. He rolled up into a sitting position, and sat there, then went over and flopped down beneath a bush.

His entire world view had been changed in that one moment, because he was a different dog after that, according to my friend - seemed to have given up trying to dominate anything but his squeaky toys. I found that fascinating - what was it about being told off by my dog that changed him? He'd been told off by Rottweilers, pit bulls, you name the breed, he'd challenged them and been put in his place, and it hadn't changed his behavior; why now? What was different? We never did come up with a satisfying answer to that question, and he's long gone.

Displays of dominance in people can be equally as mystifying - we watch as someone will cause themselves added harm, from not being able to stand down, to let go, to accept, to admit to their own powerlessness.

I tried for almost the entire ten years of my first marriage to dominate my husband's alcoholism, and I failed completely. I challenged him time and again, trying to force my will, and it had no effect whatsoever, except to increase conflict between us.

Whenever I try to force my will upon another person, I will fail. That's a given, because I can't change another person. I do not have the right to try to dominate anyone. I may try to justify my attempts to dominate with explanations about it being for their own good, or look at what they are doing to themselves, yada yada yada.

I am powerless over alcoholism. I am powerless over other people. How many times must I find myself with teeth at my throat and hot breath growling a warning into my ear, before I am willing to accept this?

If You Don't Swim, You'll Just Float.

Someone asked if I could please elaborate upon my remark yesterday that I seem to be hearing a lot lately from people who don't work the program, and say they "don't get much out of it."

Nobody would go out into their yard, start to dig a bit, clear perhaps a foot or two of sod down to the bare soil, then put down their tools, sit down in despair, and say they don't get anything from gardening. We can all see how silly that would be.
Yet this is what happens with 12-Step. People clear a bit of grass, get down to some dirt, then sit down, give up, and say they "don't get much out of Al-Anon." (Or AA, or any other program.) Or they come into 12-Step from a place of desperation, and do work the program at first, until they start to feel better, and that's where they stop. And rest. That rest can go on for years, until the parts are rusted together, and it takes monumental effort to unseize the brain.

I had one sponsee ask why she was so stuck, when another person who'd come to Al-Anon a month or so after she had, and whom she wasn't aware I sponsored, was moving in leaps and bounds? "Why?" she wailed to me, "I just don't get it!"

Why? Because she had never surrendered, never admitted her powerlessness or insanity - she was determined to be a victim, and any suggestion that she wasn't, or that she work to change herself, met with a fierce resentful resistance: "Why should I? It's not fair!"

Damn right it isn't. Let's move on, shall we?

I need to do regular digging and weeding, or my plot of self can quickly become choked with the buttercup of  resentment strangling my newer, less-established plantings. I need to be going out every day and doing an inventory, or nature will take over - untended gardens revert to the wild.  I don't want to have to start all over from the beginning.

I'm going out to the garden, are you coming? No, you're going to watch from here? Ok, but don't complain when a month from now, you can't tell you'd ever started to dig.

Forgive the analogy, but that's how it is - you don't get the result without the effort. Stop doing the work, or never begin, and you won't get anything but more of what you have now - packets of seeds, and a vague intention.

One place we lived, we had a neighbour who used to walk past our front garden, and stop to sigh, "I wish my garden looked like this." Finally, my husband could bear it no longer, and replied with a smile, "It could, if you put in the time and exertion that my wife does."

The Wisdom of Old-Timers.

I'd forgotten, when writing yesterday's post, about an old-timer I knew from an open AA meeting, in a place we once lived. He was one of those gruff old guys who put on the facade to try to hide a very soft heart; when he was a young man, men were supposed to be tough all the time.

He had a phrase he used, for those people who were really involved in AA, in sponsorship, and meetings, and for one reason or another, decided to pull out, pull away, and stop showing up. It was a shorthand way to describe the very real danger they were in, when they decided to go it alone, without the support of AA, and other alcoholics, to maintain their sobriety.

In his almost 50 years in AA, he'd seen many  people who'd stopped attending meetings, drank again, and never managed to make it back. There was no judgement in his eyes when he spoke of this, only a resigned sadness for the human ability to deny reality, and sometimes, his eyes would well up, as he talked of someone lost again to the disease of alcoholism.

He'd been to countless funerals, for those who once sat beside him in meetings, and the pain showed when he spoke of this. But somehow, he never lost his ability to believe in sponsorship, and he had an unquenchable belief that "it works if you work it.

I wouldn't have thought I'd ever have forgotten his term, because it gave me the shivers, and still does now.

He called them "dead man walking."

But, Why?

"Why is my alcoholic sister so mean to me?"
"Why does my husband continue to drink when he knows it's going to be a disaster?"

When I was new to Al-Anon, I believed that if could only know why the alcoholic did what he did, I'd be able to accept it. Just give me a good reason, and I could find peace with it all. I think I most likely asked that "But, Why?" question several hundred times, and it's a tribute to the compassion and loving support of the group members, that no-one ever expressed exasperation with me, or told me to stop, already, with the why. Acceptance of what's happening within our own lives, not only allows us to live with more comfort and ease, but we also become much more tolerant of the foibles of others.

It was very difficult for me to accept that there were some aspects of life about which I might never get clarity, or a reason that satisfied. I might eventually be granted understanding, or a reason, but not a satisfying one - not one of those "Ooooooh, now I get it!" kind.

There'a a quote in one of the daily readers, I can't recall which one:

"If you understand, things are just as they are; if you do not understand, things are just as they are."

That was an excellent reminder for me, in early recovery, when I would be swept with the intense feelings of desperation to know, to understand, to find a good reason. (It irriated me tremendously, but still operated as a good reminder.)

My sponsor offered a variation of the above:

"It is what it is."

Oh, grrr! I would feel my teeth clenching, when she'd offer me that as a response to a question of mine about why did my husband drink when his little girls were visiting, and needed to see him, and he'd go off on a 3-day bender and only come home the morning they were going back to their mother's, so that I was left to try to make their visit enjoyable when he was absent.....

...or why did he always seem to find a way to destroy anything good that happened in his business; he'd win an excellent contract, and then proceed to royally screw up, so that by the end the business was limping along from week to week, barely making a miniscule profit, when it had the potential to....

...or why did he treat me in such a mean way when he professed to love me when he was drunk or sober, and we'd had good and bad talks about what that meant, and the effect upon our marriage, and me, and...

When I'd ask those sort of questions, and be met with the kindest of responses, all variations upon "It is what it is, and it's out of your control. You can't change other people, you can't force him to be a different father, business owner, husband," I'd feel that my questions were being sidestepped, and there must be a good answer out there, but for some reason, no-one wanted to share it with me.

There was a good answer, and it had been given to me each time I asked that question, it was I who had been unable, or unwilling, to hear or accept it:

"Because he is an alcoholic."

I've learned in Al-Anon, that when I do not accept "It is what it is" as an answer, I am dooming myself to hours/days/weeks of stubborn misery. When I turn my face away from the reality of it, I am practising denial. That's my choice. It's also my choice when I decide to work towards acceptance. It's one of those circular, ongoing processes for me. About some things, I've achieved a solid forgiveness; I no longer rage against my alcoholic first husband. I've let go of all the pain from those ten years, and can look back with detachment. I can remember the painful parts, but I don't feel them anymore.

When I can't find acceptance, is it because I am unwilling to let go of judging the other person? Doesn't the problem lie not with them, but with me, in my refusal to accept how it is at this moment? This moment is all we get - yesterday and tomorrow are past, and not yet here - I have only to deal with today.
Let us therefore, live one day at a time.

Keep On Keeping On.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rewriting History.

From Courage to Change, page 139:

"Life doesn't always go smoothly or peacefully, even though I might wish it would. In the past, when something bothered me, I'd say nothing, rather than face an argument. It seemed better for me to be upset than to risk upsetting someone else. The results were usually disastrous. I would become irritable and unreasonable as I let resentment fester."

I've been realising over the last year or so, just how much enabling I've been doing with an alcoholic, in precisely the way described above. When I've mentioned something I don't like, which this person has said or done, and they have rewritten history and completely denied it, I've usually become so frustrated and annoyed that I've just let it drop. This has taught the person that rewriting history and denial works as a defense mechanism.

Lately,  I've been calmly refusing to be derailed by irritation, and continuing to make my feelings politely known - I've stopped allowing the rewriting of history to be an acceptable way of dealing with conflict. If I have to use what I call "broken record" (distilling what I have to say down to one sentence, then calmly and courteously restating  my sentence until it is heard and acknowledged - this can often take up to 4-5-6 repititions, before the other person understands that I am not following them down the side roads they're beckoning for me to take) then that's what I do.

It's my responsibility to ensure that I'm treated with respect. This may mean that I must be willing to recognise, name and question that which is offered to me, with outright refusal also being an option.

There are days when I just don't want to do this - I want the other person to do it for me, without being asked, and with perfect compliance to my wishes. I may be tired, vulnerable, ill, or bored to death with having to struggle when I'm not in the mood for it.
That's fine, that's my human frailties coming to the fore. However, if I am not willing to stand up for myself, how can I ask for respect from another? One line from an Al-Anon reading which has always stayed with me, is:

"If I don't want to be a doormat, I have to get up off the floor."

Oh, right. (Me, you mean? As in, God helps those who help themselves?) I've spent years  trying to make the floor more comfortable to lie on - getting up  was not in my worldview.

If I want change, I must be willing to suffer the inherent discomfort, while the change is being manifested. I work to be grateful for whatever I can, right now - I can always find something to be grateful for - that's a blessing, and a reminder.

As We Understand Him.

The God of my understanding has a sharply ironic sense of humour, as evidenced by my last few days, and many other instances.

My spouse and I were talking last night, about my decision to stop blogging, and the two days that followed. They grinned at me, and said, "Sometimes our decisions are overruled."

I loved that, it was such a perfect description of exactly how I've felt. I decided that I didn't have the time, or anything more worthwhile to say, so I was going to stop blogging. My decision was overruled, and the message was made crystal clear. I have a program friend who calls those messages "memos from God."

They start out politely and courteously, but get firmer and more forceful the longer we try to ignore them. She tells a story in which she made a decision, and then stuck to it grimly, while everyone from her sister to her pastor tried to suggest that perhaps God had other ideas for her in this case? She says that she'd decided to ignore those God-memos, and they went from: "My child, that's not such a great idea, I think it might be better were you to ___." to:  "DON'T PUSH ME, SUSAN!"

I can relate to that furious determination to get her own way, for me, it was part and parcel of being "right." I wanted to be right in everything, and I couldn't change my mind or back down, or concede, because I felt as though doing any of those would be  proof of the validity of the deep dark feelings of wrongness that I carried inside myself.

I couldn't bear to be overruled. I took it personally, and fumed and stewed and seethed. My first sponsor suggested that I try thanking my Higher Power when things didn't go my way.
I mumbled something noncommittal, and drove home thinking that she had finally crossed the line, she'd gone completely barking mad.

I've changed so much in Al-Anon. Now I may make the decision, but I don't have to have dire consequences threatened, in order to be willing to reconsider. Nowadays my Higher Power can play silly games with me to get the point across. I'm teachable.
I'm able to be wrong, and cheerfully admit it. There's no shame attached anymore.

I've still got a co-dependent's ability to rationalise, but now I can hear myself starting to do this. I recognise the opening bars. I can choose to listen to a different piece of music.
I can be grateful for all of you reading this, who respond to my blitherings with such warmth and encouragement.
I can change my mind. I can take a hint from God.

Clinging To Misery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are Alcoholics More Argumentative?

In my (admittedly limited) experience, yes, absolutely. Alcoholics can be champion arguers.

One example: out walking the dogs with an alcoholic, and I made the offhand comment, "I should keep a sketchbook and pencils in the car,  because I always seem to find something worth drawing when I'm out walking."  I was immediately and firmly told that I "...didn't need to do this,  because it's better for you to go home and draw from your imagination, yada yada yada."

This from someone who has never had the slightest interest in drawing, knows nothing about it, but since I mentioned it, they were going to argue with me about the best way to go about drawing - "...imagination being far superior to just copying reality."

I fell silent. What communion can there be between two people when even the smallest, most casual of remarks is challenged and demolished in this way? Not much. I find it exhausting, mentally and emotionally. I begin to withdraw, and just want to escape their presence, feeling bullied. The more I want to get away, the more they feel stressed and isolated, the more they argue, the more I want to get away.

When I've tried to speak to them about this, they ask incredulously if I want them to agree with everything I say, are they not allowed their own opinion? At that point, I realise they are choosing to play the alcoholic game of "I don't know what you're talking about!" and I know any further discussion is pointless, so I quietly excuse myself, and leave them to it.

It's exceedingly frustrating, and demolishes intimacy. And that is their choice. At one time, I may have believed that they didn't understand how this felt from my end, but I've told them enough times now, that saying it again is merely singing an old song they aren't interested in hearing.

All I can do is look after my own recovery, and if that means leaving them alone to stew in their misery, well, that's an unfortunate consequence of their having chosen to behave that way. I don't want to be around them when they're like this; that's my right and my choice. I'm far better off to accept that they are in the argumentative mode, let it go, and at the first opportunity, excuse myself nicely, and go spend my time doing something pleasurable - like drawing.

"Many things must thou pass by with a deaf ear, and think rather of the things that are for thy peace. It is more profitable to turn away thine eyes from such things as displease thee, than to be a slave to contention."
     Thomas A'Kempis

Stop Poking At Me, Already!

One foundation of the Al-Anon program, which seemed impossible when I started, yet over time, has become a deeply ingrained habit, is making amends.

I've come to believe that the Steps are written as they are, in an effort to overcome the ferocious desire to justify ourselves, present in so many of us. I know I can always find a knee-jerk reaction as to why I was perfectly in the right to say/think/do whatever it was. That kind of thinking keeps me separate from others. It creates distance, and walls of rigidity.

Getting over the first monstrous hurdle of "Made direct amends to all persons we had harmed, except when to do so would injure them or others." allowed me to realise that it wasn't so bad to admit I was in the wrong; on the contrary, it was hugely freeing. I woke up the day after each early amend, and realised  - that was one less stinking, putrid hunk of ancient guilt to lug around.

I carried so much guilt with me; it stabbed and slashed at me in quiet moments: kept me from sleep: poisoned my self-image. Even so, when first offered the chance to relieve it through the making of amends, I was doubtful. And terrified. What if someone rejected an amend? My sponsor worked me through the process of "Well, what's the absolute worst that could happen?" each step of the way, until I came to the realisation that even if that was the outcome in one or more cases, I'd survive.

Making amends clears the slate upon which we write our relationships with others. It's a powerful statement of shared humanity. I've made amends I didn't want to make, to people I didn't much like, and achieved the  same result as with the amends I was willing to make, to those I love. It's the process that matters. The humility.

I was joking to a friend recently, that now instead of being poked and prodded by guilt, it's my conscience sticking a finger into my side and saying, "Um, excuse me, can we talk?"  I've had times where I've tried to pretend I didn't hear it, but that just increases the force of the fingerpokes, until my ribs hurt and I'm completely exasperated, and whirl around to say, "All right! I hear you! I'll make the cursed amend!"

I'm not going to pretend I'm always melting with the force of my willingness, right from the start. I have times when I feel like a recalcitrant child, being pushed forward by my conscience, with mulish expression upon my face. Somehow, someway, most likely through the grace of my Higher Power, when I reach the point of speaking my amend, I will find that I am willing. I may say whatever I have to say stiffly, and with much mumbling and fumbling, but I will say it, and for that, I am truly grateful.

Won't Power.

When I had been in Al-Anon for a few years, and was at a stage of having come face-to-face with some of my worst character defects for the first time, I went through a period of rebellion against all things Twelve Step. I'd sit in meetings and feel irritated at how long this person or that spoke, I'd make judgements, I'd daydream, and lose the topic completely.

I began to feel a creeping sort of alarm regarding this, because I knew how helpful program was to me in so many ways: working the Steps of Al-Anon had made it possible for me to enjoy life in a way I'd never have dreamed possible for a person with my history. So what was going on? I kept quiet about this for ages, before making what I thought was a brilliantly off-hand comment to my sponsor. She, of the keen understanding and directness, (which grated upon me so much at the beginning, and became such a gift)
pounced upon this, and suggested we explore it further. All my wriggling and squirming was for naught - she had me pinned, and insisted I elaborate.

It all came spilling out, along with my fears about why this was happening. She smiled lovingly at me, and said, "I call that "won't power."

Huh?

She explained that she used that as a shorthand term to describe the negativity which resides within so many of us, and pushes us to: leave things be, don't rock the boat, don't make a fuss, put your head down, and try to be invisible, slide down the side of the room, smile politely, chat, but don't reveal yourself, walk alone, eat alone, be alone, and whatever you do, don't change anything.

I sat there stunned, because she had just described my most secret self in her crisp British accent. That was the start of my understanding of how my isolating kept me trapped in my sickness.
I'd always believed that keeping my true self hidden from other people kept me safe, but it wasn't true at all, it just kept me stuck.

My sponsor went on to explain that even after all her years in program, she still, especially in times of stress, had "won't power" surge to the forefront of her consciousness, and would have to make a conscious, deliberate effort to shrug that off, by making contact and reasoning things out with a program friend, or her own sponsor.

I have always isolated in times of stress, and that is still my default mode. I have to make a choice to do the opposite. When things are going well, I don't have the desire to hide out, it's only when I'm struggling with whatever demon or difficulty is here today. That's where the program concept of doing the opposite of the action we first consider, comes into play for me. If I want to isolate, I choose to call a program friend or my sponsor.

I had a perfect example of this today - my sponsor sent an email to ask, was I still driving over to have lunch with her this week, and even though I adore this woman, and enjoy her company enormously, my first impulse was to reply that I was too tired/busy/excuse of the day. Why? Because things have been a bit stressful here, and that's my "won't power" operating. Hide out, be quiet about it, smile smile smile and lie about how great life is.

So I quickly sent a reply saying that yes I was, and I couldn't wait, and hit that "send" button before I could change my mind.

That's program working in my life. That's me working my program. That's me turning, to open the door, shove the won't power back out across the sill, slam it firmly closed and lock it. I went and read some program literature directly afterwards, to reinforce my knowledge that this was a good choice.

How Badly Do I Want Change? con't.

From the ODAT, page 23:

"Learning the Al-Anon program in all its deep meanings, and applying it to my daily life is not simple matter of going to a meeting now and then. Suppose I had decided to learn another language or study art or a science, I would have to work at it every day and practise the things I learned until they became part of me. A philosopher or an artist studies every day for years to perfect himself. How can I hope to perfect myself in the Al-Anon way of life without daily application?"

A few years ago, a friend asked me to teach her the basics of stained glass. I agreed, and we spent quite a few hours down in her basement, working on the fundamentals of how to cut glass, how to foil correctly, and how to solder. My friend then put the glass aside, and didn't touch it again for about 2 years, at which time she asked me to teach her again, because she'd forgotten it all.

I gently refused, instead giving her the excellent instruction book with which I'd taught myself how to do stained glass. (Setting this boundary was very difficult for me, because I respect, admire, and love my friend, and didn't want to upset or annoy her. I reminded her that we'd discussed before the lessons, the fact that I was making an exception for her, because I don't teach anyone how to do glass, and I've had many requests. I'm not a good teacher, I'm too impatient.)

I had taken the time to show her how to do it, it was then up to her to utilise that knowledge, or not. Program is just the same.I learn how to utilise the wisdom of Twelve Step through attending meetings, talking to other members, reading, and working with a sponsor. Other members can be of enormous help to me, but unless I'm willing to put the program into practise in my own life, I won't get anywhere.

Some lessons come easily, and I use the information almost immediately. Others, for whatever reason: my ego, or stubborness, or my ever-present desire for control, (simmering away on a back burner like a stock pot) are set aside, in full view, and not touched again for months. Or years, when I was newer to program.

Life has given me sufficient painful instruction in the result of my knowing, yet continuing to turn my face away, and refusing to admit a reality, to reduce my obstinacy considerably by this stage of my journey.

I heard at the meeting someone speak of setting boundaries with himself - I like that. Saying to myself: this far, and no further. Do not go there. You know what happens, so suck it up, turn around, and walk the other way, repeating the Serenity Prayer as you go.

What's My Part?

That was the topic of the meeting I attended last night. It was fascinating to hear just how many of us in Al-Anon have tolerated behavior that would have sent your average non-co-dependent person down the road in short order.

I tolerated sustained verbal and emotional abuse from my first husband, and the reason for this could be ascribed to my childhood, to a stubborn desire to make it work, to any number of factors; it's irrelevent, really - I did, and it caused the both of us years of wretchedness.

This is diametrically opposed to the way I viewed that relationship before program - back then, it was all his fault, end of discussion. He drank - we suffered; I was an innocent bystander.

It was a long, hard haul uphill, to get my mind open far enough to even begin to consider that perhaps my own behavior left something to be desired. Blaming him for my torment might be satisfying in a nasty way, but didn't help either of us.

I was resistant to Step 5, with a mulish disregard for any suggestion that it could be an admission to a different way of life - a life which offered more than survival and my ever-present longing to be anywhere else but where I was.

"Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs."

Admitting it to myself was the most exacting skirmish - my ego was a small quivering thing cowering behind impressive defenses. I had years of rationalisations and justifications to fight my way through - I'm reminded of the time my husband was out behind our house cutting down a blackberry thicket with a machete, hacking and clearing for hours, just to get down to bare earth. At that point,  I thought he was finished, but he laughed, and said he was just getting started, and the worst work lay ahead - digging up and discarding the foundations of the plant, those impressive roots which spread in every direction, and colonise all gardens they reach.

Just so did my character defects contaminate all areas of my life - resentment and self-pity, rigidity of thought, impatience; the list of my wrongs seems endless some days. I once had a shared laughing fit with my sponsor, when I called looking for some commiseration, and she asked, "Self-pity not doing it for you, then?" in her crisp English accent. (She had a very clear grasp of the difference between giving comfort, and helping me to wallow.)

Once I could admit my failings to myself, admitting them to God came easily, but it was another titanic struggle to admit them to "another human being."

I didn't want to admit to my faults, they were mine, and I was deeply ashamed of them. My sponsor asked, did I think I could list off some of her character defects? I wriggled and squirmed, but was finally pinned down to an embarassed "Perhaps."  She went on to ask if that were the case, did the opposite apply, could she perhaps list some of mine?

That simple question left me speechless. Of course she could, she knew me better than I knew myself, at that point. I wanted to know what the point of all this was, in that case; why was I having to tell her what she already knew?

Why? Because it forces me to be honest, and it keeps me humble. Step 5 permits me to see myself without shame, and without grandiosity - as a perfectly acceptable human being with all the usual attendant human frailties. It allows me to feel comfortable within my skin, Al-Anon, and the world at large. I'm no longer possessed of the sneaking feeling that I'm trying to hide some horrific personality trait, and could be discovered at any moment. I can laugh at myself, and that is a blessing of glorious proportions.

Arguing The Details.

I've had sponsees who are fixated on arguing the details, while completely missing the bigger picture. They will lock onto one small area or statement or idea, and chew it over mercilessly, looking for the inherent flaw which will allow them to dismiss our entire program.

Is this willingness, to approach each meeting as a challenge to our stubborn resistance? Is this keeping an open mind? The suggested closing to our meetings states:

"If you keep an open mind, you will find help."

I would venture to suggest that the opposite is also true: if we keep a closed mind, we won't get much out of Al-Anon. Before I try anything new, do I not have to take a leap of faith that I may be able to accomplish it? Do I not have to be able to picture myself playing the piano, driving a car, scuba-diving, whatever it is that I wish to learn?

In this same way we must be able to picture ourselves living a healthier, happier life. For most of us, that is extremely difficult, especially if we live with active alcoholism. For that, we need to take a leap of faith. Close our eyes, grab onto the hand of our sponsor, and shrieking with fear, leap off the cliff of our past with him or her, trusting that our Creator will catch us.

In my experience, once we have done that the first time - taken that leap of faith, and found ourselves safely caught in our Higher Power's warm, cradling hold - the realisation that we didn't fall mangled to the rocks beneath, is enough to propel us forward in growth to a degree we'd never have imagined, before we jumped.

Catch onto the hand of your sponsor, close your eyes, scream as loudly as you need to, but please, take that leap of faith - you will be astounded at the blessings you will find in Al-Anon.

Dedicating Ourselves To Recovery.

If we only attend meetings, and read program literature, and work the steps of Al-Anon, when our home lives are in crisis and the alcoholic is in active addiction, what are the chances that we will achieve recovery?

Slim to none.

That may sound harsh, but anyone who has been in Al-Anon for many years, has seen people come and go repeatedly, who follow this pattern of behaviour, and these folks will stay stuck at a certain level.

My spouse once offended a neighbour mightily, by responding to her her oft-repeated refrain:"I wish my garden looked like yours.." by saying cheerfully to her, "It would if you put the same amount of work in that she does!"

Why do we do this? We want the same results as a person who has expended enormous effort, but we want it immediately, and with little or no work done on our part.

If we want a beautiful, lush garden, we must be willing to get filthy, dig until our arms and legs are exhausted and we can't stand up straight, get down on our knees and pull weeds.
Only we can give our plants a chance to thrive, without having to struggle for life amidst rapacious weeds which have evolved to grow in the harshest of conditions - in a garden, with extra water and nutrients, weeds appear to be on performance-enhancing drugs.

If we want a well-trained dog, we must put in the hours of teaching to accomplish the result we seek. Spending two sessions training for ten minutes, and then giving up, won't get us what we want. We need the resolve to be consistent.

If we only come to Al-Anon meetings when our life is in crisis, and then when things calm down, stop attending, and never open a piece of program literature, we won't get far.

If we never get a sponsor, and never work the Steps, we will not get what those who have done the hard work have received as a result of their exertions.

Like so much else in life, Al-Anon gives back to me in direct correlation to what I give to it. I was dedicated to my misery, before 12-Step; I spent hours involved in obsessing and manipulation and awfulising and projecting - I was steeped daily in a poisonous stew of those ways of thinking and behaving.

An Al-Anon friend used to say, "If you don't want tea so strong you cannot drink it without feeling as though it's stripping the enamel from your teeth, take the teabag out!"

That became a little joking saying we used, to remind each other not to go there with whatever it was: "Hey! Take the teabag out!"

Justification.

It seems to be human nature to want to justify our own behavior with excuses, while excoriating another person for theirs. We make judgements about how someone should act, dress, think, pray, or even work the program, and then set them at a distance from ourselves with this tidy little labelling that drops them into a category of "not like me."

We assure ourselves and others that we'd never do that, would you?

It requires considerable, sustained effort to see each person we run into in our daily round, as a child of God. Most of us have to work very hard to shut off that internal measuring system which is continually judging other people for what we perceive to be flaws, obvious or assumed. If we don't learn to shut it down, or at least reduce the volume, we keep our world small, controlled, and stagnant.

I have wrestled with this aspect of my personality since I was new to program, and even though I've come a long way from the person I was way back when, it still comes up for me. I will be congratulating myself for my tolerance, not aware that over here, in the shadows, I'm doing the same thing again - setting myself up as the authority on how another person should behave, and if they don't, dismissing them.

Some folks rub us the wrong way - those most like sandpaper to my psyche, are those who share my own character defects. Seeing them arrayed in full colour, like a fall banquet, means I cannot pretend that they are not just as annoying and irritating as the character defects I don't happen to own.

I have a choice in this instance - I can squirm and writhe with discomfort, push that knowledge away with heated denials, or I can sigh and accept this as a lovely moment of clarity, delivered by my Higher Power, for my sure and certain benefit.

Step Seven.

"Humbly asked him to remove our shortcomings."

I reached this Step, and the word "Humbly" brought me to a screeching halt. I couldn't get past it; it was a monumental roadblock to my progress.

I was stuck. On one word.

The very arrogance which was one of my worst character defects, now barred me from moving forward in my recovery, because it wouldn't allow me to consider choosing to be humble.

My definition of "humble" at that time was: obsequious, subservient, timid, servile.

My sponsor, God bless her, suggested that I pray for a different definiton of humble. I recall sitting in her kitchen, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers as we spoke (I was a great fidgeter back then, it was an sign of my inner turmoil) and wondering, how would that help? She pointed out that it was my definition of the word that was interfering with my recovery, so, ask my Higher Power to give me a new definition!

Years later, she would laugh uncontrollably at the memory of the look on my face when she made this suggestion, and my terse reply of, "Sure; presto, chango!"

I went home and dutifully prayed for a new definition of "Humbly." One morning a week or so later, I woke up, and the first thought that went through my head was, "I'm allowing my shortcomings to be the reason I can't ask God to remove my shortcomings!" It made me laugh aloud to realise that. I decided that rather than pray for a new definiton of "humble," I needed to pray to be granted humility. If I couldn't get there on my own, I could be willing to be taken there in God's hands.

It worked. As always, when I am truly willing, miracles happen. Icefloes of long-held resentment melt and shift; rigid barricades to recovery crumble and fall. If I am on my knees (in reality, or just spiritually) and delighted with the feeling of willingness suffusing me, I am near to God, and I feel His presence.

From the ODAT, page 61:

"The attitude of true humility confers dignity and grace on us, and strengthens us to take intelligent spiritual action in solving our problems."

"...intelligent spiritual action..." - I love that.