Forgiveness

Deep Water

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From Each Day A New Beginning, August 6, CAL:

“‘They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm’ ~Dorothy Parker

Variety in experiences is necessary for our continued growth. We mistakenly think that the ‘untroubled’ life would be forever welcome. It’s the deep waves of life that teach us to be better swimmers.”

Ain’t that the truth? But who said I wanted to be a good swimmer?

Well, to follow this metaphor along, before I got into recovery, I was very good at dogpaddling. When I had to face a problem, I paddled around it or avoided the water altogether. I never learned to swim properly. And certainly not well. I lived on the fringes of what I recognize now to be a healthy life, a life filled with honesty, self-care, and love of and service to others. Before recovery, I used avoidance, hiding, dishonesty, and any substance I could get my hands on (food, drugs, alcohol) to numb me for a while so I wouldn’t have to face “life on life’s terms.”

I was so deeply unhappy from a very young age, and so terribly self-absorbed in my own sadness that I failed to recognize what a fortunate life I had had in so many ways. Attitude is everything, and I needed to do some serious work to adjust mine. Recovery has come to me in waves over the past twenty-plus years, and the one thing that grounds me to the core is a deep sense of gratitude.

All of us on this page have experienced the “deep waves” of life that they mention in the reading. I lost my daughter to substance use disorder twenty-three years ago. She may or may not be alive in San Francisco right now. But I haven’t seen her in thirteen years. On the rare occasions that I have heard from her in these lost years, she was not my daughter, not the one I raised. Her personality has completely changed, she has no moral compass, and I imagine that all the years of substance abuse have caused considerable brain damage.

That’s the “deep wave” that has caused me the most heartache. But there are others that I chose to focus on and be an excuse for my own unhappy life. An unhappy childhood, a divorce and three angry kids, estrangement  from my family of origin. Luckily I had found recovery before I got incurable blood cancer or that would have been another excuse to feel sorry for myself.

It’s these “deep waves” that have made me a better swimmer. Life’s challenges, some of them small, some of them overwhelming. I’ve learned to face them like an adult, not like a frightened child. And in doing so, I have given myself another chance at life. How lucky is that? To get a second chance, to make living amends to my remaining kids and grandkids, to try to heal the estrangement in my family, all these “waves” that might have drowned me before I decided to do life differently.

I am one lucky lady. I thank God and my recovery fellowship, all my friends here who I think of as family for the opportunity to live happy, joyous and free. God Bless!

The Melting Away Of The Great White (Frozen) Wall Of Guilt

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I have been in ongoing recovery for quite a few years, and I’ve  written this blog for over a decade. Yet it is utterly refreshing for me to see myself grow in real time and share it with you. Here is something I have realized recently as a result of my 12-Step work:

 I’ve often said here that guilt is a crippling emotion. How so? I had felt that when I let guilt overpower me, I would become vulnerable and lose my resolve when dealing with my daughter, and probably others as well. The boundaries I had set to protect me would fall away. So I would become crippled in my dealings with her.

That kind of thinking demonstrates how far I needed to grow in order to work with guilt differently so that it would become my teacher and not a means to punish myself. Now I see that the only thing that crippled me was me, and not the emotion behind it. The second promise of AA says that I will not regret the past nor wish to close a door on it. When I can truly not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it, I will be able to accept myself as an evolving woman just like so many of us in recovery.

I will see that my whole life—the good, the bad and the ugly—has been a series of lessons for me, one after the other. And that wishing away my past would be a form of self-annihilation. I will try to embrace my failures with my loved ones—not with angst and remorse—but with humility and. grace.

This is the power of my program at work.

The Duality Of Holiday Hype

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There’s something about the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas that helps to distract me from whatever cares and woes might be weighing me down. As you know, I resist those woes anyway—gratitude is a powerful tool. But they’re still there. The hype of the season has the power to bring any losses into sharp focus, even as we are celebrating our good fortune. We’re only human.

How can I forget the past twelve Christmases when I knew nothing of Annie or where she was? I can’t. I have pictures of her all over the house along with all my other loved ones. She’s not dead, and even if she were she would be remembered by me in countless ways; using her name as a login for some of my accounts; decorating the Christmas tree with all the ornaments she made when she was still my young and innocent daughter.

Perhaps because of the terrible stigma attached to substance abuse disorder, friends and family members shy away from speaking of her, as though that would erase the pain of her loss.

I seem to be the only one in my family who can remember her without shame or guilt. Only love. Even her brother and sister won’t speak of her. My son refused to tell his children about his sister, and so I finally did. In the most matter-of-fact manner, they had already been curious about the “phantom Annie” in the pictures, and I answered their questions. Not too much information, just enough to tell them that drugs destroy lives, as they destroyed their aunt’s. Take this, I implored them, as a cautionary tale.

And so I put my thoughts of Annie in a back drawer and open the front drawers of my life. I take joy in my two other children, grandchildren, Gene, my family of origin, and many friends, both new and old. From my three memoirs and all my blog posts over the years, I have made my life an open book so that any reader could see how one can rise from the saddest of circumstances to a place of spiritual good health and joy. With work, and dedication, and the desire to make the most of the rest of my life.

“Life is not always what one wants it to be. But to make the best of it as it is, is the only way of being happy.” ~Jennie Jerome Churchill

Walking Through Cancer/Part 17 conclusion

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A Changed Life

It’s a fortunate person who has evolved enough to realize that he needs to change in order to live his best life. I am one of those fortunate adults.

Spending many weekends down in Seattle at my son’s house to bond with my young grandchildren, I was regularly drinking in his basement where I’d been sleeping. I was not ready to work on myself and give up my thirty-year habit. Then one day he and his wife took the time to confront me about it.

We sat down together at their dining room table, and he minced no words:

“Mom, we know what you’re doing in the basement. All our vodka bottles are empty.”

Immediate shock, humiliation, and the realization that I had not been fooling them all these years. If this intervention had happened years ago, I’m sure that I would have responded like this:

Full of indignation, I would have shouted, “How dare you speak to me like this? You owe everything you are, your education, your trips, the love and support I have given you since the day you were born, primarily to me!”

But on that day, April 25, 2017, I responded differently. I said very little, just that I was so sorry that I’d been behaving so recklessly for so many years. They never asked me to join AA. That was my decision. And from that day, I’ve never thought about drinking alcohol. At last, this student was ready for the teacher. I’m so grateful that I’ve remained teachable.

Since then, my life has improved exponentially. I continue to be devoted to my Al-Anon groups. But, a “double winner” I am called, I also attend AA meetings even more frequently. Some of the meetings are just for women, and the other ones I attend with Gene. This awakening on my part has brought Gene and I closer together. He had endured my drinking in all our years together, but knew better than to pressure me to quit. That desire had to be born deep inside of me, and not to please him, or my son, or anyone else. I had to believe that I was worth the effort to stop drinking.

My relationships have improved since I’ve given up alcohol. The twelve steps are essentially tools to help us realize our potential as human beings. The ‘God steps’ I spoke of earlier are a lesson in humility, where I let go of my arrogance enough to admit my powerlessness over people, places and things. The next steps involve looking at ourselves honestly and becoming aware of our defects. This exercise is followed by sincerely making amends to people we have wronged.

Finally, “having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.”

This is the transformation I write about in all three memoirs, and it’s a glorious one, indeed.

How Important Is It?

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I will ry to keep things in perspective in terms of importance. Keep a clear head and don’t get sidetracked by emotional drama.

For example, if closing the door to the microwave wakes someone up, how important is it? The person we woke up should ask him/herself, “Is it worth having a fight over?” The people most vulnerable to this slogan sometimes just thrive on the drama. Don’t buy into it.

Move on, distract, find a healthier and larger perspective. We can get so bogged down in pettiness that we stop seeing the larger picture. Today I will try to remember what’s most important in my life—getting along with my partner—and do what I must to protect that.

Gone But Never Forgotten

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My unsent letter to my child:

Dear Annie,

Ironic, isn’t it, that you have become my teacher and not the other way around—teacher of life, teacher of love, and beacon of surrender.

I’m so grateful that you were born, even though at times I’ve felt otherwise. God works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he? Though you haven’t been in my life long, and not always happily, it’s been your very existence that has propelled me into a serenely spiritual life, even happiness. I never would have done the work necessary to reach this place without your inspiration.

You are my child, my teacher. As I’ve stumbled on this rocky path, my thoughts of you have guided me; they guide me still.

All that I’ve become are gifts from you, my daughter: life lessons, trial by fire. How do I honor you?

By living well—By loving well.

Mom

The Power of Faith

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From Hope For Today, June 13:

“…What I had overlooked in Step Two was the word ‘Power.’ The day I started placing my attention on that Power instead of on insanity, I began to see miracles in my life. One such miracle was my ability to talk about my fears in Al-Anon meetings. Other miracles included taking the Twelve Steps that lead me to serenity, and engaging in the process of forgiving and healing.”

It has taken many years of hearing Step Two read at meetings for me to really hear the word ‘Power.’ Now I realize how much more awesome my Higher Power is than this disease. Instead of dwelling in fear—and listening to my worst instincts—today I am striving to pass on the miracles of recovery to my children and grandchildren. If we keep doing this then, maybe not in

my lifetime but in theirs, we will see a change in how substance use disorder is treated around the world.

Find Something To Smile About

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Silver linings are everywhere in our lives. I try to appreciate them when I see them. My family has lived through four generations of alcoholism, but it wasn’t until my daughter was stricken with substance use disorder that I was motivated to go into serious recovery for myself. Losing her all these years to this cruel disease has been heartbreaking, and my serenity has come at a very high price. But though I’ll never get over these lost years with her, I like to think that she would be glad that I’ve survived and am learning to live well. This is how I honor her memory. She’s left a few flowers along the way, and I’m grateful.

The Yin and Yang Of Living

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From Each Day Is A New Beginning, November 19:

“’Experience is a good teacher, but she sends in terrific bills.’ ~Minna Antrim

Our longing for only life’s joys is human—also folly. Joy would become insipid if it were our steady diet. Joyful times serve us well as respites from the trying situations that push our growth and development as women…Joy and woe are analogous to the ebb and flow of the ocean tide. They are natural rhythms. And we are mellowed by their presence when we accept them as necessary to our very existence.”

Recovery has mellowed me. My growing faith has taken the sting out of the loss of my daughter. I was angry, self-destructive, heartbroken, and guilt-ridden…the list goes on. But that path was leading me nowhere.

One day I woke up with a bright light shining in my face. It was warm and melted away my rough, icy edges. A voice was calling to me; I think it was one of my grandchildren and she said, “I’m right here now, Bela. Look at me! See, I’m wearing the dress you gave me. Please come to my recital!”

I went to her recital and many others afterwards. And I learned that my mother’s heart could be filled up over and over again by these children and so many others. The heart has a great capacity to renew itself and heal. Acceptance of that which I cannot change has helped. And listening to the voices of others—long silenced in me—ring loud and true now as hope for the future.

All will be well.

Staying Out Of The Weeds

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Before I went into recovery, I was pretty lost. On the outside, my life seemed to be rolling along well. But on the inside, I was insecure and sad. I dealt with these feelings in unhealthy ways, but didn’t feel much pressure to change them. I never missed a day of work, and I appeared to be fine. But appearances can be deceiving. Nothing had yet occurred to call my choices into question. Nothing had happened yet to push me out of my complacency.

But when my middle child fell ill with substance use disorder, after I had tried and failed over and over again to save her, I broke. The carefully manicured life I had been living was a treasured glass from my cupboard, smashed onto the kitchen floor. There were many little shards, and some big ones. I cut my fingers cleaning it up.

My recovery fellowship comes with a philosophy that teaches me many different things. And one of those things is to forgive myself and others for transgressions inevitably committed in our lives. Our common humanity dovetails at every meeting I go to, where we encourage ourselves to face our defects, let them go, and move on.

For years, I held on to mine to punish myself for my part in Annie’s disease, and most importantly, for failing to “save” her. I have learned, gratefully, that my daughter suffers from substance use disorder, as do I, and I could no more save her from it than if she’d had diabetes. I simply don’t have that power.

So I try to stay away from martyrdom and self-pity, because neither of those feelings will help Annie get well, and they hurt me a great deal. That’s where the weeds are. They muddy the waters; they keep me angry and sad. When I steer clear of them, it takes some of the sting out of losing my daughter. I can more easily open my heart to what remains in my life.

Staying in the weeds—a murky place— prevents me from changing and growing. My recovery fellowship provides the tools to accomplish those two things, with gentleness and kindness. It’s hard, hard work. But when I see positive results in real time I’m encouraged to keep at it. There’s no graduation from this school of life.

The miracle of my recovery is that my eyes can see my life through another lens now, one full of gratitude, humor and love. The fruits of my recovery rest on these three things.