My inventory has shown me who I am, yet I ask for Your help
in admitting my wrongs to another person and to You.
Assure me, and be with me, in this Step,
for without this step I cannot progress in my recovery.
With Your help, I can do this and I will do it.”
I’ve stopped the blame game. Admitting my defects to God and another human being has been critical in my recovery. Denial is like a dark cave: we hide there, from ourselves and others, and without any light it’s not easy to see the truth.
I’ve struggled with substance use disorder my whole life, but until I told someone about it, brought it into the light, it wasn’t real to me, and I could continue on the merry-go-round of denial.
But when I told someone else, I couldn’t pretend anymore. Sharing with someone else makes me accountable. Admitting our defects to others shines a light on who we really are. Then, and only then, do we have the opportunity, through God’s help and the support of others, to work on our defects and our recovery.
P.S. It’s also kinda necessary to know who we are, and admit who we are, before we can love who we are and accept who we are!
Boundaries do not have to be angry walls that shut other people out. They are a form of assertion and self-affirmation. In the spirit of friendship.
They tell people: “This is what I need in my life, and I need you to acknowledge and respect it. When you do, things will work well in our relationship. But if you don’t, if you cross lines and disrespect my boundaries, our relationship might break down and stop working. I will probably exit the relationship out of self-respect.”
Boundaries are not there for others. They are there for our self-regard—to benefit us.
“An increased tendency to let things happen rather than make them happen.
Frequent attacks of smiling.
Feelings of being connected with others and nature.
Frequent overwhelming episodes of appreciation.
A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than from fears based on past experience.
An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment.
A loss of ability to worry.
A loss of interest in conflict.
A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others.
A loss of interest in judging others.
A loss of interest in judging self.
Gaining the ability to love without expecting anything in return.”
A tall order, that’s for sure. But, as with all of our attempts to change ourselves and improve our well-being, baby steps work best. This is no time for the monster of perfectionism. No one, absolutely no one, is perfect. #9 is extremely hard for me, so I keep trying to let go of what motivates others. And #6? Enjoy my chemotherapy? To enjoy it, I’ll focus on how it is saving my life, rather than focusing on the discomforts that come with it. This is how I deal with all the negatives in my life: like losing my daughter to substance abuse; I have two other kids and grandkids. I focus on them. Gratitude offers me grace. Life is still a wonderful adventure when I try to keep spiritually healthy. God Bless!
“…When we share ourselves fully with one another, share our monsters with one another, they no longer dominate us. They seek the dark recesses of our minds, and when we shine the light on them, they recoil. The program offers us an eternal light.”
This quote is a great way to end the month of May, our Fifth Step month, when we share with God and another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. For me, taking the fifth step has been liberating. No more lies and pretending, which is an exhausting habit. Now I’m free to be me in all my humanity and imperfection. It’s so much easier to live in complete honesty. It has opened the door to much healthier relationships, tears, sometimes change, but always a new brand of integrity that is delightful to experience. Life is good. I’m so grateful for my ongoing recovery.
“…In Step Four I realized I was stuck in the past. My daily thoughts were usually about plans for the next day, week, or even month. I always anticipated tomorrow to the point where it became my today. I’d get so caught up in what I was going to do that I often wasn’t aware of what I was doing now.
After realizing this character defect and asking my Higher Power to remove it, each day I have is usually better than the one before. I give thanks for the little joys in each day. I still make plans, but I don’t let my thoughts erase the present. Anticipation is sweet, but not at the cost of today.
When I look back on this in the context of alcoholism, I understand why I behaved as I did. With all the awful happenings at home, there were many todays I didn’t want to experience. As a child, I had limited options, so the best way to escape was to flee into the possibility of a better tomorrow. I have different choices now. I know enjoying my day and doing the right thing for myself and my Higher Power is the best plan for an even better tomorrow.
Thought For The Day: Just for today I choose to enjoy all this day has to offer. If I don’t like the offering, I’ll ask my Higher Power to help me adjust my attitude.”
This reading ends with something that I have found to be true: attitude is everything. My daughter, whose disease brought me into the rooms, is still lost to the disease that claimed her 23 years ago. And for too many years I ignored the tools of the program and saw my life as a tragedy. But after much work and recovery of my own, I’ve learned to adjust my perspective.
Yes, my daughter is lost to me, but there are other people in my life who need me. I have another daughter who’s getting married, and I rejoice in that. I have a son and grandchildren who live nearby and it makes me happy when I see them and how well they are.
My life is varied, with friends and other family members, a sister with whom I’ve reconciled and I rejoice in that. I can distance my heart and mind just far enough from my grief over Annie to take pleasure in my blessings. I don’t obsess over my loss nor define myself by it. It’s part of the fabric of my life, good and bad, happy and sad, just like everyone else.
What my recovery program has enabled me to do is keep Annie in my heart, but focus on all that remains.
“This journey of mine, this parenting journey, would involve going two steps forward sometimes and then three steps backward. It was not vertical progress I was making, but it was progress. And strangely, the more I kept the focus on myself and striving to be happy, the easier it was to let go of my child. I knew I had paid my dues, and I feared no one’s judgment, least of all God’s.
I’ve railed at God many, many times during these twenty-three years of joy and pain, this God they speak of at Twelve-Step meetings. How many times had I sinned in my life? Many, more than I want to remember. And so the child in me had been sure, earlier on, that I was being punished for all of them. It was my karmic payback. “What goes around comes around,” etc. Indeed, for all of my life, before my breakdown, I had no faith in anything or anyone other than myself. I grew up very lonely and isolated, and if there was a god, he wasn’t paying any attention to me. So I learned to be very independent and self-reliant.
But when I finally found myself on my knees, I felt broken and whole at the same time: broken because my MO for dealing with my problems hadn’t been working; and whole because I finally let myself believe in something outside of myself to strengthen me, to fill in the gaps that were missing in me, and to help me cope. I was starting to develop and cling to a faith that assured me that I was not being punished and that I would be OK in the end, no matter what happened to my daughter. And I realized that fighting her battles for her was not only a waste of time; it was also useless and of questionable value.
My energies, spent though they were, would be better directed toward reclaiming my own life, which had been sorely compromised in the fight to save my daughter. And in reclaiming my own life, I was bidding for my redemption, long overdue, but just within my reach. This was my journey now, I knew it; I sadly accepted it. I wanted us to be connected but we weren’t. I wanted her struggle to be our struggle, but it wasn’t. I wanted to save her life but I couldn’t. I could only save my own. And I’d keep working at it—or this relentless disease would claim two more victims instead of one.” ~Angie Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, by Maggie Romero, 2014
Spending too much time regretting our past mistakes and/or fearing what may happen in the future keeps us from looking at what’s right in front of us: the here and now. But the present moment is all that’s real and something we can hold onto. So I will try to be present and attentive to what’s going on right now. That’s how I can relish what’s good in my life and enjoy the ride.
What will be will be. I can’t control the outcome of the future. So why even think about it? I’ll focus on the present moment and work with things I can control, like the laundry! J Yesterday is over and done. Tomorrow isa faraway dream. I’ll keep my mind on today and make the most of my life as it is. That’s the only way I can be truly happy.
I’ve received many emails from moms asking me how I cope with the living death of Annie’s substance use disorder.. She’s neither dead nor alive. Many of my friends here know the hellish limbo I’m living in, without any resolution or closure. But I have found a way to cope well and move on with my life. This is what I wrote back:
“I put my grief in a back drawer and close it. Then I look at what’s in my front drawers every morning. I have so many wonderful things to be grateful for. Instead of focusing on the problem, I try to keep my mind on the solution. This is how I live. It keeps me humble, grateful, and glad to be alive. I honor my daughter’s memory in this way, and I truly believe she would want me to live well and be happy. Blessings to you, Mom.”
