Recovery of the Spirit
“Angie was a good daughter. But please, beware of the complacency in those words. Clearly, she hid her pain very well. Clearly, much was lurking beneath the surface that I did not see. And if I ache with the vacant promise of all the “woulda, coulda, shouldas,” it’s because I know that even if I had known what was coming down the road, I couldn’t have stopped it.” ~Maggie C. Romero, A Mother’s Story: Angie Doesn’t Live Here Anymore
Ernest Hemingway famously said: “We are all broken; that’s how the light gets in.” This speaks to me, and to many of us.
In my search to be free of my emotional pain, I have found en”light”enment in a recovery program with tools to help me live better. It hasn’t been an overnight cure for my misery. I will always mourn the loss of my daughter Angie to this cruel disease. But, over time, I’ve learned to let go of some bad habits that weren’t serving me anymore—and contributed to me serving her even less. What didn’t serve me? Guilt. Untreated, that led to enabling, which served her not at all.
Working this miraculous program has helped me see that I’m just another child of God—and that I’m worth something. My years in various 12-Step fellowships have saved my life. Back in 2001 when a school counselor told me to go to an Al-Anon meeting, I told her, “No, that’s not for me.”
Yes, it was.
My recovery work over the years has brought me out of isolation and pushed me into the circle of love in this picture. I have learned many things in my recovery program, but the most important has been placing a greater value on my worth, my needs and my wants. Learning to set boundaries is another way to take care of myself, letting others know what is and what isn’t acceptable to me. This tool has made my relationships healthier. Without a daily practice of self-care, what shape am I in to interact with those around me?
“Progress, not perfection,” to be sure, and we all have bad days. But I’m grateful to have found a sound guide for living in my recovery program. It doesn’t take away the pain of struggling with my daughter throughout her addiction. But it does offer coping strategies that encourage me to focus on what I can control in my life. No longer drained from fighting a battle I can’t win, I feel energized to move on and celebrate the blessings God has given me.
It’s all a matter of perspective. Attitude is everything.
From In All Our Affairs: Making Crises Work for You
“I had always wanted to be different, better than others. It comforted me to believe that I loved more, cared more and suffered more from the effects of someone else’s drinking.
I was different when I went to Al-Anon. I suffered from these feelings of alienation, yet while I wanted to belong, I wanted even more to remain apart—to hang on to my old life, my old thinking. I felt that as I accepted each truth, each part of the program, some portion of me was going to die. I was not capable of believing that there would be a new life, or that a mature woman might be born from the wreckage of a guilt-ridden, obsessive child.”
My resistance remained even as I took the Steps of recovery. While I made progress emotionally through friendship and the release of some of my anxiety, I was unable to surrender myself to the idea of a Higher Power. It was a few years before I made that final surrender. Then and only then did I have any idea what Al-Anon was all about. I now understand my uniqueness. There is no one else on earth exactly like me, but with God as my partner and as a member of such a fellowship, I am not alone.
From Hope For Today, January 23:
“One of the gifts I have received from Al-Anon is learning how to maintain an attitude of gratitude. Before the program I didn’t really understand the true nature of gratitude. I thought it was the happiness I felt when life happened according to my needs and wants. I thought it was the high I felt when my desire for instant gratification was fulfilled.
Today…I know better. Gratitude is an integral part of my serenity. In fact, it is usually the means of restoring my serenity whenever I notice I’m straying from it.
Gratitude opens the doors of my heart to the healing touch of my Higher Power. It isn’t always easy to feel grateful when the strident voice of my disease demands unhealthy behavior. However, when I work my program harder, it is possible.
‘Just for today I will smile…I will be grateful for what I have instead of concentrating on what I don’t have.’”
Accepting life on life’s terms is hard. My daughter has been a drug addict for fifteen years, and I grieve the loss of her in my life every day. The five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance—I know them all, and not always in that order.
My path to recovery involved a lot of denial in the beginning and, as it said in the reading, “the voice of my disease demanded unhealthy behavior.”
So I’m grateful now for the serenity and peace that I have in my life. Acceptance is the gift I give myself every day when I let go and give Angie to God. When I remember that my glass is half full, it dulls the ache from losing my precious daughter.
She’s still alive, but I haven’t seen her in almost five years. When they say that there’s always hope, I agree: as long as she’s alive there’s hope for her to recover. But more importantly, there’s hope for me to move on with my life and focus on my blessings. I deserve to be happy, and that’s the only thing that I can control.
Angie made this gift for me when she got out of her first rehab in 2002. I treasure it—ever a reminder that beauty is often born out of loss.
My daughter was a gifted visual artist as well. I keep her renderings all around me because I like to remember what promise she had. This reinforces my certainty that addiction is a brain disease, not a moral failing. If she had not succumbed to the living death of heroin addiction, I feel sure that she would living her life along with her siblings, probably doing more creative things.
Addiction is a tragedy for all families. But we can try to celebrate what was good about our addict’s lives before they got sick. I’m grateful for the years I’ve had with Angie.
From Each Day A New Beginning, January 9:
“‘The Chinese say that water is the most powerful element, because it is perfectly nonresistant. It can wear away a rock and sweep all before it.’ ~Florence Scovel Shinn
Nonresistance, ironically, may be a posture we struggle with. Nonresistance means surrendering the ego absolutely. For many of us, the ego, particularly disguised as false pride, spurred us on to struggle after struggle. ‘Can’t they see I’m right?’ we moaned, and our resistance only created more of itself. Conversely, flowing with life, ‘bubbling’ with the ripples, giving up our ego, releases from us an energy that heals the situation—that smoothes the negative vibrations in our path. Peace comes to us. We will find serenity each time we willingly humble ourselves.
‘Resistance is more familiar. Nonresistance means growth and peace. I’ll try for serenity today.’”
“Try for;” that’s the key. Who can practice nonresistance all the time? My ego and willfulness have tripped me up most of my life! Like many mothers here, I was a warrior determined to save my child. It’s counterintuitive NOT to be.
But once I accepted that addiction is a brain disease, I stopped fighting so hard to save Angie. I simply don’t have that power. She’s very sick; call it “psycheache,” call it what you want to call it. But she’s thirty-seven years old, and she knows what she needs to do if she wants to live well. It’s her choice. And I have choices too.
Painful words coming from a mother who hasn’t seen her girl in almost five years. But it’s how I choose to live now. This is my second chance to enjoy all the beauty around me. And I want to savor it.
I will always love Angie, and I pray for her recovery. But, for today, I’m focusing on my own. I believe my daughter would want that.
From Each Day A New Beginning, November 24:
“If onlys” are lonely—Morgan Jennings
The circumstances of our lives seldom live up to our expectations or desires. However, in each circumstance we are offered an opportunity for growth or change, a chance for greater understanding of life’s heights and pitfalls. Each time we choose to lament what isn’t, we close the door on the invitation to a better existence.”
We all wish things were different in our lives. There’s always something. Who has everything they want? So often, the grass looks greener on our neighbor’s lawn. But if what we want—what we are lacking—is not within our reach, I’ve learned to let it go.
It takes a lot of energy to keep trying to change the way things are. I spent years trying to save my daughter from a disease that was killing her mind and body. But I have neither the responsibility nor the ability to free her of her addiction. She alone has that power.
So I don’t say “If only” anymore. Instead, I open my eyes and my heart to what’s right in front of me: the breathtaking sunrises over Sandia Mountain; my healed tooth infection; “Bela, you’re the best grandma ever!”; celebrating my birthday by skiing and not falling flat on my face! The list is endless. As I say on the dedication page in my next memoir: “If you look for joy, you will find it.”
“We rise by lifting others.” Robert Ingersoll
I grew up in an alcoholic family. There was a lot of dysfunction around me and, to make a long story short, I was severely depressed. That led to a number of other problems, of course, and so my mother got me into volunteer work when I was thirteen, hoping it would relieve my anxiety and sadness. It wasn’t the immediate panacea that we’d hoped it would be, but it was a step in the right direction. And it brought me out of my isolation.
Life unfolded for me in a dizzyingly assortment of ways: there were three children including my addict Angie and all the heartache that goes with her illness; a lot of travel in the Foreign Service; and a fulfilling teaching career. I’ve had a great life and I am very grateful. But through it all, thanks to my mother, I’ve been a volunteer in various different organizations. The work has kept my perspective healthy and made me feel better about myself, something I sorely needed. And it’s taken me most of my life and much 12-Step recovery work to truly celebrate myself fully. Helping others always helps me more.
Happy New Year!
From Hope for Today, April 20:
“For me letting go is like a tree shedding its leaves in autumn. It must let go of them to produce even more beauty in the following spring and summer. Letting go of what I do not truly need—whether it be old thoughts, things, or behaviors—makes room for new growth in my life.
Turn that problem over…Then begin to do something about your own life.”
My sponsor told me to “loosen my grip.” How many of us white-knuckle it through life? Holding on to old ideas, old destructive habits—because it’s all we know, all we’re comfortable with? Like holding on to my need to save my daughter Angie from her drug addiction. The Serenity Prayer encourages me to let go, with grace, of the things that I cannot change. The disease of addiction is one of those things. So I’ve learned to let go. And I’ve found peace in my life—and gratitude for all that remains.
Happy New Year, everyone! May we all find some wellness and joy in 2017.