empowerment

“We Are All Broken. That’s How The Light Gets In.”

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

“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

Carpe Diem

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

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.

“Living Well Is The Best Revenge”

Marilea C. Rabasa2 Comments

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.”

Self-Love

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

Unlocking the key to this is the key to 12-Step recovery, because with it we become empowered to intelligently deal with the substance use disorder of a loved one. In a letter to another parent I said, “ I love my daughter with all my heart and soul. But it’s been learning how to love and value myself that has elevated me from the reality I live with—“elevate,” as in rise above, detach from, avoid becoming enmeshed in and manipulated by the addict. Oh, it’s a sad, sorry catechism we mothers of addicts must learn in order to survive the substance use disorder of a child.

But if we can create even a little bit of distance and objectivity from the problem that is consuming us, we might be gifted with some freedom: to look around us and appreciate (and allow ourselves to be distracted by)) other blessings in our lives, whether it’s a good job, good health, other healthy children, grandchildren, or a sunny day. Life goes on, relentlessly, with or without us. I choose to live well in the time I have left. My recovery has taught me that I deserve to.

What Makes Rainbows?

Marilea C. Rabasa2 Comments

From Courage to Change, March 14:

“One beautiful day, a man sat down under a tree, not noticing it was full of pigeons. Shortly, the pigeons did what pigeons do best. The man shouted at the pigeons as he stormed away, resenting the pigeons as well as the offending material. But then he realized that the pigeons were merely doing what pigeons do, just because they’re pigeons and not because he was there.

Active alcoholics are people who drink. They don’t drink because of you or me, but because they are alcoholics. No matter what I do, I will not change this fact, not with guilt, shouting, begging, distracting, hiding money or bottles or keys, lying, threatening, or reasoning. I didn’t cause alcoholism. I can’t control it. And I can’t cure it. I can continue to struggle and lose. Or I can accept that I am powerless over alcohol and alcoholism, and let Al-Anon help me to redirect the energy I’ve spent on fighting this disease into recovering from its effects.

It’s not easy to watch someone I love continue to drink, but I can do nothing to stop them. If I can see how unmanageable my life has become, I can admit that I am powerless over this disease. Then I can really begin to make my life better.”

My recovery has been, among other things, about redirecting my energy into a positive force for my loved ones and me. Before I learned the tools of recovery, though I appeared to be content and successful, I was deeply troubled and unhappy on the inside. Then, when my daughter became a substance abuser, it all boiled to the surface. I love my daughter very much, and I would have done anything in my power to save her.

There’s that word “power” that we hear so much in the rooms. And that’s good because power and ego so often go together, and I’ve had to learn to let go of both of them. I spent several years trying to save her, but I made many mistakes and in the end was not able to influence her choices. Just like the pigeons, she’s gonna do what she has to do. I can only love her and be strong for her if and when she goes into recovery. I am, therefore, concentrating on saving myself. And if it weren’t for my daughter, I probably wouldn’t even be doing that. Beauty is often born out of loss. I still have a heart that can love—and the eyes to enjoy the beautiful sunsets here in Puget Sound!

The Wind In My Sails

Marilea C. Rabasa1 Comment

I wrote a few words on this topic ten years ago, just a few words, a very few words. And I am amazed at how much more I have to say on the topic a decade later. In my recovery program, they tell us to “keep coming back.” This is why, and I’m so glad that I did.

First of all, I forced myself, gradually, to open my closed mind and really listen to what others had to say. I had to reach rock bottom, sad to say, in order to be able to do this. I had to be so broken and miserable that I was desperate to try anything new. Because “my best thinking had gotten me into the rooms.” And what does that say about my “best” thinking. To put it charitably, it was propelling me toward continual unhappiness and frustration. My life simply wasn’t working for me, and I knew that something or someone had to change. ME!

Recognizing this required a lot of letting go and surrender: of my arrogance, ego, self-will, need to control, self-reliance and stubbornness. I was finally on my knees, the student at last ready for the teacher.

I lost nothing by surrendering these things I had been a slave to for most of my life. And what did I gain? A lot more wind in my sails, the God-given, grace-filled capacity to dig deep and find the goodness and humanity that had been buried for so long behind a wall of anger and self-righteousness.

What a relief, what freedom I am enjoying, to be sailing on an open sea with my sails full of power, the wind behind me, looking forward with faith to a bright future.

“When I Got Busy, I Got Better”

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

From “The Forum,” August 2015, p. 15:

“Going to meetings helped me understand the first step, which I consider the cornerstone of the program. I cannot repay Al-Anon enough for what it has done for me. One thing I did from the very beginning was to serve the fellowship. Service strengthened my recovery and gave me a chance to pay forward what I’ve received.

My loved one has been in and out of sobriety for the more than 20 years since I joined the program, and whether my loved one was sober or not, I never gave up, slackened my attendance, or service to Al-Anon. Today I can accept that my life is important and that I have a choice to continue obsessing or get on with my life. I accept that alcoholism is a disease and Al-Anon helps me to face the disease and not let it get me down. I feel alive because of Al-Anon. Working the Twelve Steps led me to a spiritual life that gives me much peace and joy.”

Lifelines are all around to help us cope with life’s challenges. Exercise, good nutrition, gardening—the list is endless. Fortunately there are many outlets to choose from, and I’ve used all of the above. But the tools—life lessons—that I’ve learned in several 12-Step fellowships have changed me as well as the way that I relate to other people. I’ve heard it said that alcoholism is a disease of relationships, and whether that’s true or not I can certainly see the improvement in how I behave with others. That, in turn, has made me a happier person. So this has been my lifeline, because working the program has made such a big difference in my life.

“Life Is A Box Of Chocolates…”

Marilea C. Rabasa1 Comment

From Courage to Change, March 12:

“What does another person’s mood, tone of voice, or state of inebriation have to do with my course of action? Nothing— unless I decide otherwise….

Detachment with love means that I stop depending on what others do, say, or feel to determine my own well-being or to make my decisions. When faced with other people’s destructive attitudes or behavior, I can love their best and never fear their worst.

‘Detachment is not caring less, it’s caring more for my own sanity.’”

Well, it took me a long time to get to this place, where I felt I deserved to be sane and healthy. I needed to shed a lot of baggage—things like guilt, low self-worth, and the thrill of martyrdom—in order for Al-Anon to work its magic on me. Guilt, in particular, cripples us and puts at risk when we need to set limits. Not until I did this was I able to set healthy boundaries with the people in my life. Like all card-carrying codependents, I didn’t know where I ended and the other person began. I was enmeshed in everyone’s difficulties, my daughter’s most of all, which effectively kept me from facing myself in the mirror and dealing with my own defects and resulting problems.

I’ve learned many healthy life skills in my program of recovery, and I would pass them on whenever I could. As Forest Gump’s mom would say: “Life is a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re gonna get.” That’s true of course. But the secret of being happy is making the best of what you get, no matter what that may be.

Lighting Candles In Greece: Lessons In Faith

Marilea C. Rabasa1 Comment

I was on the tour boat in the caldera of Santorini and we were approaching Oia at the end of the day, hopeful to catch the sunset from that end of the island. Oia, and most of the towns on Santorini, looked like horizontal white jewels, sparkling against the sun’s rays, perched atop this rock in the Mediterranean. It was a stunning sight and can only be appreciated like this from down below.

We disembarked and decided to forego the smelly donkey ride up to the city, deciding to walk up. I was immediately drawn to the Church of Panagia Platsani. After entering the cathedral, I went right to the candles and lit one for my estranged daughter, Annie. I found this to be wonderful nourishment for my soul. The cynical me said, “Oh well, another money maker.”  But the believer in me said, “Listen to me, God. I’m talking to you now. This is my prayer.”

I’ve heard it said that prayer is talking to God, and meditation is listening to Him. I did a lot of praying in Greece, in many Greek Orthodox churches. I spent a tidy sum of money, money I could have invested in souvenirs. But I chose to invest in prayer in the country where I began to lose my daughter thirty-five years ago.

“Losing my daughter…” We learn so much by craning our necks and looking backwards. We gain so much clarity through hindsight.

It’s very hard, this practice of letting go, and the faith I’ve been gradually acquiring these past many years has been a lifeline. It’s kept me from permanently free falling into despair—that black hole of uselessness—as I’ve been letting go of having Annie in my life. Only a mother can know the glue that binds her to her child, and all mothers must let go of their children. “They come through you,” Kahlil Gibran says, “yet they belong not to you.”

Letting go is a constant discipline for all of us. But letting go when your child will be coming back is one thing. Letting go when they’re gone—that’s something else. My girl has a brain disease and has been pumping her body with substances that have caused a lot of brain damage. It’s a very cruel thief, substance abuse. It robs you of yourself. My daughter Annie no longer resides in that body.

So I light candles in the country where circumstances threw her into a tailspin of depression. Her parents divorced and she rarely saw her father afterwards. Annie got through adolescence adequately, but she was a grenade waiting to explode. When she was twenty-one and a college graduate, she plunged into the dark world of drug addiction and has remained in that never-never land ever since—that fantasy world where what you want never comes and so you need to get more…

My faith has come to me, not like a burning bush, but in increments over my own years of recovery from this.

Gratitude

Marilea C. Rabasa2 Comments

I’ve dreamed many dreams that never came true.

I’ve seen them vanish at dawn.

But I’ve realized enough of my dreams, thank God,

To make me want to dream on.

I’ve prayed many prayers when no answers came,

Though I waited patient and long,

But answers came to enough of my prayers

To make me keep praying on.

I’ve trusted many a friend that failed

And left me to weep alone,

But I’ve found enough of my friends true blue

To make me keep trusting on.

I’ve sown many seeds that fell by the way

For the birds to feed upon,

But I’ve held enough golden sheaves in my hands

To make me keep sowing on.

I’ve drained the cup of disappointment and pain,

And gone many days without song,

But I’ve sipped enough nectar from the roses of life

To make me want to live on.

~~ Author Unknown ~~