Recovery

Guilt And Redemption

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

Memoir Excerpt:

“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 dozen 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 any thing or any one 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 Angie’s 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.”

My Daughter/Myself

Marilea C. Rabasa4 Comments

Memoir Excerpt:

“Parents of addicts need to remember that addiction is not a choice: who in their right mind would choose to stick a needle in their arm day after day and live in the gutter? It’s an illness, and has been recognized as such by the American Medical Association. Victims of addiction of all forms deserve compassion, and hopefully they will avail themselves of the recovery opportunities out there.

Angie told me once that she hated NA meetings because pimps, dealers, and strung-out junkies just itching for their next high often attended them. But in her case I don’t think that’s true. I think she didn’t go to meetings because she needed to deal with her addiction her way, and not be told by anyone else what to do: CSR—compulsively self-reliant—just like her mother.

Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to embrace recovery at all, a painful possibility I had not yet considered. I was still determined, at that point, to believe that she was going to beat her addiction and that I, of course, would be the glorious savior she would spend the rest of her life thanking, handing me my redemption on a silver platter.

I would finally, thank God, let go of the oppressive burden I was placing on my daughter by demanding she get well so that I could be OK. My mother unconsciously did the same thing with her children: she was a demanding perfectionist, beating back the pain of self-doubt and unworthiness by raising “successful” children. I’m very glad to have found recovery from my dysfunctional upbringing. It has helped to “relieve me of the bondage of self.” And most importantly, most importantly of all, my recovery has freed my children.”

Staying In The Solution

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rainbows

 

The Problem: Someone we love is sick with addiction.

The Solution: Acceptance of my powerlessness over someone else’s addiction; Faith in God’s plan; Gratitude (for ice cream and sunsets…and rainbows).

Every day when I wake up I do my best to live in the solution; my life works better when I do.

A Journey Of Transformation

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A mother wrote me recently: “Your memoir has released me from my shame. Reading your recovery story has shown me how, in spite of everything bad that’s happening now, I can get on with my life and learn to be whole and happy again. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

A Memoir of Recovery

 

My story takes you through my recovery from addiction and the effects of living with it. But it didn’t start out that way. I began it several years ago solely as a story about my daughter’s drug addiction. And as I got deeper into the writing of it I realized that there was much more of a story to tell, and that that story began with me in my childhood.

And so I began the excavation process, the unfolding of my life, and laid myself out before the reader in the Introduction. Angie didn’t become an addict in a vacuum. She is the latest in at least four generations of troubled souls. So I allow you, the reader, to get to know me long before my daughter was hijacked by this cruel disease. It adds another dimension to my very personal story, and allows you to consider that addiction is often a generational illness. And you will see why it is, indeed, “A Mother’s Story.”

Ironically it was my daughter Angie whose disease brought me to a place of wellness and peace in my life. All the ugliness of behavior and spirit that often goes with unbridled addiction is documented in the book, as addiction is a monster that takes few prisoners. Yet Angie was a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her before addiction seduced her. Her tapestry described in the book reminds us that beauty is often born out of loss.

This is a story about my recovery in the face of all this heartbreak. How I’ve been able to accomplish this is a testimony to the power of spiritual transformation. And so, paralleling the roller coaster ride of her illness, I share with the reader throughout the book my evolving recovery and my journey toward serenity.

This journey has freed my children from the same oppression that held me hostage growing up. Many people who have suffered through the darkness of addiction are consumed by despair. But as I continue to grow and change, my loved ones are the beneficiaries. Perhaps some elements of my story will resonate with you as well.

 

Weathering The Storms

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From Each Day is a New Beginning, May 16:

‘It is only the women whose eyes have been washed clear with tears who get the broad vision that makes them little sisters to all the world’—Dorothy Dix

“The storms in our lives benefit us like the storms that hit our towns and homes and wash clean the air we breathe. Our storms bring to the surface the issues that plague us…Recovery is a whole series of storms, storms that help to sprout new growth and storms that flush clean our own clogged drains. The peace that comes after a storm is worth singing about.”

Growing up surrounded by addiction and falling prey to the disease myself, I was in the veritable forest, unable to see the trees. My deep and overriding love for my daughter forced me to open my eyes and see what was right in front of me. I took a large leap toward healing myself so that I could be well enough to enjoy all my blessings. As I conclude in the final chapter of my memoir, “What could be a better testament to Angie, to all her gifts and possibilities, than to go forward with my life savoring every moment?” Many friends in Al-Anon have expressed gratitude to their addict/alcoholic for getting them into the rooms of recovery— these same friends who, like me, deeply mourn the lost years with our loved one—but who, also like me, refuse to offer another victim up to the altar of addiction. We have made it through the storm, and have found that we have something to sing about.

Dancing in the Rain

Marilea C. Rabasa2 Comments

Dancing in the Rain

The road to my spiritual life began when I was a young child growing up in an alcoholic family. But I didn’t start to walk down this road until halfway through my life when my daughter fell ill with drug addiction.

I was very unhappy growing up. It’s a classic story of family dysfunction that many of us have experienced as children. But back then I didn’t have Alateen to go to. My father was never treated and died prematurely because of his illness. I, too, was untreated for the effects of alcoholism, and grew into an adult child.

Well, many of us know how rocky that road is: low self-esteem, intense self-judgment, inflated sense of responsibility, people pleasing and loss of integrity, and above all, the need to control. I carried all of these defects and more into my role as a mother to my sick daughter, and predictably the situation only got worse.

I was a very hard sell on the first three steps of Al-Anon, and my stubbornness cost me my health and my career. But once I did let go of my self-reliance, my whole life changed for the better. The Serenity Prayer has been my mantra every day. I’ve learned to let go of what I can’t change. I don’t have the power to free Angie of her disease, but I can work hard to be healed from my own. This is where I’ve focused my work in the program.

My daughter has gone up and down on this roller coaster for fourteen years, and right now she’s in a very bad place. But that has only tested me more. My faith grows stronger every day when I release my daughter with love to her higher power, and I am able to firmly trust in mine.

Friends of mine ask me, “How do you do that? You make it sound so simple!” I tell them, “First of all getting here hasn’t been simple. It’s the result of years of poisoning my most important relationships with the defects I talked about earlier. I knew I had to change in order to be happy. Secondly, I fill my heart with faith-based unconditional acceptance of whatever happens in my life. It’s my choice.

Somewhere in the readings, someone wrote ‘Pain is not in acceptance or surrender; it’s in resistance.’ It’s much more painless to just let go and have faith that things are unfolding as they are meant to. There’s a reason that HP is running the show the way he is. I just have to get out of the way; I’m not in charge. I also read somewhere the difference between submission and surrender: submission is: I’ll do this if I get XYZ; surrender, on the other hand, is unconditional acceptance of what I get. Well, the latter is easier because I’m not holding my breath waiting for the outcome. I just let go – and have faith. Again, it’s a very conscious choice.

We all have different stories. What has blessed me about a spiritual life is that I can always look within myself and find peace regardless of the storms raging around me. I’m learning how to dance in the rain.

 

The Voice of Recovery

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Mother's Day 2009_0001Mother's Day 2009

In 2009, Angie went into recovery for quite a while, and it was a blessed period in our lives. This is the Mother’s Day card she sent me that year, and how it pulls on my heartstrings now! I will never give up hoping that she gets her life back someday, and I will always love my daughter very much.

Building Blocks to Happiness

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From Courage to Change, April 22

“At first the idea of searching for defects of character, wrongs, shortcomings and harm I have done can seem like just another excuse to be hard on myself. That’s why it’s so important to concentrate on the first three Steps long enough to develop a strong spiritual foundation.

In these early Steps, we admit the areas over which we are powerless—such as alcoholism and other people—and learn that a power greater than ourselves has no such limitations. We decide to place our will and our life in the hands of this Higher Power. We let go of burdens that were never ours to carry. And we begin to treat ourselves more kindly and more realistically.

When we move on to later Steps, we do so for our well-being. We begin a process that is immensely rewarding, and we go forward under the guidance of a Higher Power. This enables us to be much more gentle with our recovery.

The first three steps are the cornerstone on which my progress is built. No matter how long I have been in this program, I won’t hesitate to touch base with the foundation of my spiritual health.

‘I now have a goal I can see clearly and a program with which to work toward it. It is my guide to self-improvement, comfort, and a better way of life.’”

 

I Can Dream, Can’t I?

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

I have a few fantasies left. One of them is that Angie, wherever she is, for once in her life gets very lucky. She is blessed with a savior, someone like Doc tried to be back in 2007. You never know, as long as she’s alive, if she reaches a point where she wants to turn her life around, where she starts to dream of what might have been, if she’d made a different turn in the road so long ago, there’s always a chance that this could happen. This is my fantasy:

Angie meets someone: A Very Good Person. That someone makes her see that she still has the power to save herself and turn her life around. So she starts to try. First, she gets clean. It was agony, but she does it. And the savior helps her stay clean by staying close by, offering support, and being her NA sponsor. Days go by, weeks. She gets a little job in a bookstore to pay back her savior for buying her food and to pay for her small, furnished room. She keeps her head above water. Weeks turn into months. She’s still just putting one foot in front of the other, going to her job, coming home and reading books. Even when she was a using junkie, living in my basement in Virginia, she loved to read books and do Sudoku puzzles. The months go by, and she notices the change in seasons. Summer is cooler this year; the fog never seems to leave the city. She and her savior start to go out a little, leave the city in her savior’s car. They go to Big Sur one weekend, do a lot of walking. Angie’s savior tells her all about her life and the lessons her own pain has taught her. Angie listens and thinks about that. She reminds Angie that life has been hard for her too, but one day she just woke up and determined to embrace it as a gift instead of a curse. And that’s when she started to be happy. Her savior asks her if she would ever want to go back to her life before drugs, to her family.

And then the miracle happens: Angie remembers.

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