Letting Go

Letting Go Of The Responsibility

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

 

Memoir Excerpt:

 “Where do the seeds of addiction take root? It’s the old chicken and the egg confusion. Was my father predestined to become an alcoholic? Or was he made one by the emotional abuse he endured? And if the latter is true, then how and when was I an emotional abuser of my own daughter?

But Twelve-Step recovery gently steers us away from questions like that; we can’t go back and do things over. And I’m only human. I sometimes ask myself what I did wrong or what I missed seeing. Then I remember that addiction is a disease: “I didn’t cause it, I can’t control it, and I can’t cure it.” And like a gentle breeze blowing away the clutter of remorse, I let go of those thoughts and embrace my life again, free of responsibility.

In any case, whatever she chose to do now, I needed to leave her alone to do it. I knew better than to scream and wail in the night to God and all the graces that protected the innocent to save my daughter. Whatever the roots of addiction are, whatever holes were missing in her that this opportunistic disease filled in, I didn’t have the power to combat them. And I just had to let go of the struggle, or I would disappear down that rabbit hole with her.”

 

 

 

Looking Within

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Memoir Excerpt:

 “That summer (2009) I wanted her to come visit and see our farm in the Southwest. In she flew from sunny Palm Springs to sunny New Mexico, and it was a joy to have her with us for a few days. Angie is, among other things, a very talented artist, and I asked her to paint a little sign naming our farmhouse Casita del Mar, so named because of my huge shell collection. It still hangs on the post in my front courtyard, though in the years since her visit it has sustained a lot of weather damage.

 

We had fun, tooling around Santa Fe, and visiting the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum. I knew she would appreciate seeing this artist’s work. Angie had a gift for expression, both in the spoken word and in her renderings. As a child she wrote a lot of poetry. She also could capture on paper a face or expression with great accuracy. In art school I was good at drawing elevations and brick walls, but I couldn’t begin to draw someone’s face. Angie had a great gift.

 

We continued north up the slow mountain road to the Taos Pueblo, where we visited a potter we knew and bought some more of her pieces. The next day we took Angie up the tram on Sandia Crest, where you can see for miles in three directions. Looking out for hundreds of miles—and looking within. I knew I was doing a lot of that in my own recovery, but Angie never shared her recovery work with me. On our last day together we celebrated her birthday at dinner in Corrales. Of course, she had to get back to work. We hugged at the airport and said goodbye. Again, there were so many goodbyes—so much uncertainty. I will never allow complacency into my life again. I will never, ever, take a moment of happiness for granted.”

Freedom From The Obsession

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ODAT 4_11                                                                                           One Day at a Time

 

When we take the first step in recovery and admit our powerlessness over addiction, we are facing the reality of this disease. We are not dropping the ball and throwing our addict to the wind. That’s how I felt in the beginning, as I continually obsessed over my child and tried to control the progress of her illness. I felt very guilty and overly responsible for what she was going through. I introduced her to rehab four times, always hoping that she would embrace the recovery tools she learned there.

Some addicts “get it” and go on to recover and work at it one day at a time. Angie did get it for various (blessed) periods over the past 15 years, but then she couldn’t hold onto it. I learned many things in the rooms, especially to accept that it’s not my fault and that I must let go of my responsibility and get out of her way. I pray for her to find the spiritual wellness that I have found, but there’s not much else I can do. And I can’t “force the solution” that I want. God has His own plan for her, and for me, and for all of us. I trust in my faith, and that relieves me of my obsession.

“Let go and let God,” twelve times a day

Steering My Ship

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Memoir Excerpt: 

“Most people have rules that they try to live by: a certain moral code that they may have picked up from their parents or others as they grew up…and the best piece of wisdom, I think, is the Serenity Prayer:

‘God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.’

There are so many things in my life over which I have no control: the weather, road rage, barking dogs. Really, the capriciousness of events that surround us is astounding and is perhaps the reason why many people, myself included, need a lot of daily structure to feel grounded and secure. A sound mind, good health and a sense of wellbeing only add to that state. But when illness strikes, all sense of security and control flies out the proverbial window.

My daughter falling ill with drug addiction threw my life into turmoil, and I spent years flailing around like a decapitated chicken trying to make sense of things and gain a sense of control. My life was becoming very messy because I kept trying to influence the course of an illness that had nothing to do with me. Turning my attention to other areas where I could have had an impact would have been more constructive. I know I must continue to accept the unpleasantness as hard as it is because if I don’t—if I fight tooth and nail to get my way—I’ll just make myself crazy. I’ve kept trying to help Angie because I care so much, but it’s a losing battle if the change is beyond my reach. Our addicts may indeed find recovery—and we all pray that they do—but if they do, it will be through their own efforts and commitment, not ours.

The big sticking point, however, for anyone who loves an addict is where and when and why and howinthenameofallthat’sholy can I ever let go? It’s a process we all go through in different ways and at a different pace. There is no right or wrong way. The Twelve Steps have provided me with a useful program for living and given me the guidance I’ve needed to navigate through the difficulties in my life.”

“God, Grant Me The Serenity To Know The Difference…”

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From Each Day A New Beginning, March 23:

“’On occasion I realize it’s easier to say the Serenity Prayer and take that leap of faith than it is to continue doing what I’m doing.’

Most of our struggles, today as in the past, are attached to persons and situations we are trying forcibly to control. How righteous our attitudes generally are! And so imposing is our behavior that we are met with resistance, painful resistance. Our recourse is now and always to ‘accept those things we cannot change, and willingly change that which we can.’ Our personal struggles will end when we are fully committed to the Serenity Prayer.

‘The wisdom to know the difference is mine today.’”

Oh yes, the wisdom to know the difference…how often our egos get in the way of living well. We want what we want when we want it! We want our addict to give up drugs and come back to the living. If only that choice were in our hands…

But it’s not. Only addicts have the power to reach for their own recovery…and we have the power to reach for our own. That has been my choice for several years now, and I’m learning to be happy despite losing Angie to the living death of heroin addiction.

A good friend told me that ego is what separates us from God and each other. Ego (Easing God Out) is often our enemy and keeps us from the serenity we so desperately long for. So I’ve learned to turn my pain over to God (Step Three), to “let go and let God,” and that has made all the difference in my life.

We Are Both Changed By Addiction

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Memoir Excerpt: 

“My daughter’s choices: none of my business. If she were an ax murderer, would it be none of my business? Let it go, Maggie; you are separate people, remember? I told myself. My Twelve-Step recovery, so far, has brought me a great deal of gratitude and serenity, mostly when I remember that voice from God telling me to let go of control and resistance. Yet there’s another part of me that hurts terribly when I witness the destruction of my daughter at the hands of Addiction. How can I be well while Angie is so sick? I’ve spent all these years searching for an answer.

Meghan O’Rourke, author of The Long Goodbye, in an interview discussing her own grief about losing her mother, says this: ‘I’m changed by it, the way a tree is changed by having to grow around an obstacle.’

It’s the subliminal mother force in me. Grief and loss—they change us. I keep getting beamed onto Planet X, then back again, my molecules getting rearranged every time. Just as Angie has changed, so have I. I’ve loved my daughter as best I could for half of my life. How can losing her to this living death not change me?”

 

Other Voices Are Calling Me

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emily and cate at emily's wedding

Most of us have experienced the pain of substance abuse, either directly or indirectly. It’s everywhere in our society, and addiction in all its forms has the power to take away our happiness and wellbeing. My daughter Angie has scrambled in and out of the rabbit hole for over fifteen years, and much of the time I was in it with her. But I’ve learned to let go of a disease and its ensuing consequences that I have no control over. Yes, let go.

Once the tears have dried and we can open our eyes, maybe we can look around us and see what’s left from all the chaos and devastation: a job we like, flowers that are blooming, other family members, good health, enough money to be comfortable, friends who care and don’t judge us. The list goes on. These little girls are my great joy lately, and if I didn’t have them I hope I could find the courage to celebrate something else—anything else—in my life. Because time passes too quickly, and before we know it, ours is up. Life is too precious to waste.

 

“Let Go, Or Be Dragged”

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Memoir Excerpt:

“Eventually I got to a place where I admitted—no, I accepted—my powerlessness over her disease, though it was counterintuitive for me to do so. By accepting that I was powerless it still sometimes felt like I was giving up, like I didn’t care. Nothing could be further from the truth. But I had to walk over a lot of hot coals before I would know how much I loved Angie.

In time I became detached enough to look at her, feel nothing but compassion and love for her, and discuss things intellectually. It was no longer my personal mission to try to change my daughter into the person I wanted her to be. I was not Angie, and she was not me. We were separate people, and I no longer felt that her illness and/or what she chose to do about it reflected on me. This was tremendously freeing for me.

Or, as one parent writes in Sharing Experience, Strength and Hope: “Let go, or be dragged.”

“Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine…”

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From “The Forum,” August, 2015, p. 19:

“I’m so grateful I found a way out of sadness, a way to take care of myself each day, and a relationship with the God of my understanding, who will never abandon me. The pain I’ve felt in the past is equal to the measure of joy I feel now.”

That’s quite a mouthful. Whoever wrote those words in “The Forum” is saying that somewhere between despair and happiness she or he did some work, found some answers. For me, anyway, I entered into a state of grace. I quite deliberately let go of my pain, which served no further purpose in my life. The lessons it taught me have been learned. I’ve put my sadness in a back drawer—and replaced it with positive thoughts that keep me motivated to reclaim my life, my remaining loved ones, and keep my heart ticking. Grief is not a badge I wear anymore. Joyfulness is.

 

Living In The Solution

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I messaged a friend on Facebook: “Oh, God Bless, Maryann, my heart goes out to you and all of us mothers. I often say in my book and on these sites that I’m grieving a living death because Angie, my daughter, is not the person who’s walking in her shoes. She’s split right down the middle. Anyway, we all have different stories, but some parts are so familiar. My memoir was all about finding solutions for myself, and I hope it helps you too. One thing I’ve learned on this difficult journey is to live in the solution, not in the problem. That’s how I’ve learned to be happy. Hugs to you!

From a Nar-Anon handout: “People like myself whose problems have brought them to the point of despair have come to Nar-Anon to seek advice and find solutions. As soon as they attend the first meeting they feel like they have come home and feel like they are among people who really understand. And fortunate is the newcomer who finds a group that permits such expression. It gives those who have gone before them a way to give encouragement and hope. The newcomer discovers that it is by giving and receiving in our sharing that we are able to heal ourselves, and slowly we are able to regain control of our lives again.

But still more fortunate is the newcomer who finds a group that does not allow such unburdening to continue meeting after meeting. There is work to be done; Nar-Anon is not a sounding board for continually reviewing our miseries, but a way to learn how to detach ourselves from them.

A Recovery reminder:

I will learn by listening, by reading all the Nar-Anon literature as well as all good books on the subject of addiction, by working and trying to live the 12 Steps. The more I read and study the more knowledge I receive. Knowledge is power, and I will be able to help myself as well as others.”