spirituality

Healthy Relationships

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

From Healing Within Our Alcoholic Relationships, CAL, p. 16

“Building Healthy Connections

As the experience of our fellow Al-Anon members demonstrates, the more we practice Al-Anon’s spiritual principles in all of our relationships, the more those relationships change. More than that, we change. As we build trust in ourselves and others, we begin to move through our lives with more confidence and less fear. By learning healthy ways to express ourselves and developing the ability to listen, we build connections with others, ourselves, and our Higher Power. In taking responsibility for our own needs, we become better able to see that those needs are met. With a solid spiritual foundation and the loving support of the Al-Anon fellowship, we find ourselves better equipped to be more fully ourselves. We become able to live more fulfilling lives.”

I’ve heard it said that ours is a disease of relationships. And I believe that’s true. Not to oversimplify, but to me the 12 Steps are the key to my becoming a better, healthier person than I was before I discovered them. Just the amends steps, for example. Before recovery, I was often too proud to apologize for something. Now, nothing could keep me from making an amend when it’s called for. And how much healthier my relationships are as a result! Or just the first step, admitting my powerlessness over people, places and things. If, for example, my husband has severe OCD, I don’t have the power to change that. Maybe he can, but I can’t. Instead of endless snarky remarks and frustration, I’ve learned to accept his peculiarities with love and grace. Or the third step, my turning my problems over to my Higher Power. Stop trying to fix everything, Marilea! Ask Him to do what He can, and then let go. You’re not God; stop acting like you were.

My relationships are infinitely healthier now because I’ve incorporated the 12 Steps into my life and my behavior toward others. I always joke that it’s the best therapy around, and it’s free! Grateful I am, and always will be, for Al-Anon and my fellowship of friends. Have a beautiful day, everyone. God Bless!

The Spirit Within

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

“The world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles…only by a spiritual journey…by which we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home.” ~Wendell Berry

Without the gift of spirit in my life, I would be drifting on an island in the middle of the ocean. Spirit can be anything we want it to be: some people say God, or Higher Power; others focus on a statue or a tree in the garden. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that it’s not US. “My best thinking got me here.” (into the rooms of recovery)

Here’s another acronym: EGO=Easing God Out.

That floating island in the middle of the ocean can be a dangerous vessel without a steering wheel. Maybe not dangerous; just completely self-reliant and without guidance.

Self-reliance was something I learned as a child because I had to. The adults in  my life were often distracted with their own problems, so I learned to do things by myself. This was a vital survival strategy when I was a child. But as an adult, it became a huge defect.

As an adult, I’ve too often carried that survival tool into situations in my life that required outside guidance. Too proud sometimes, or afraid, to ask for help or advice, I steered my ship into some dangerous waters. Like everyone else, I’ve made mistakes, and some of them were preventable if I’d had the humility to ask for help.

So, again like everyone else, I’m just a child of (God, a tree, the stars), and I’m growing every day, learning (hopefully) from my mistakes and trying to do better. Humility is a great leveler, and it has brought me closer to the one thing I’ve missed all my life: being part of a community of equals. When I’m in touch with the spirit within me, I’m no longer alone or isolated. I’m at one within my fellowship—and it feels good to be alive.

Surviving The Slumps

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

Surviving The Slumps

From The Language of Letting Go, by Melody Beattie

“A slump can go on for days. We feel sluggish, unfocused, and sometimes overwhelmed with feelings we can’t sort out. We may not understand what is going on with us. Even our attempts to practice recovery behaviors may not appear to work. We still don’t feel emotionally, mentally, and spiritually as good as we would like.

In a slump, we may find ourselves reverting instinctively to old patterns of thinking, feeling, and behaving, even when we know better. We may find ourselves obsessing, even when we know that what we’re doing is obsessing and that it doesn’t work.

We may find ourselves looking frantically for other people to make us feel better, the whole time knowing our happiness and well-being does not lay with others.

We may begin taking things personally that are not our issues, and reacting in ways we’ve learned all too well do not work.

We’re in a slump. It won’t last forever. These periods are normal, even necessary. These are the days to get through. These are the days to focus on recovery behaviors, whether or not the rewards occur immediately. These are sometimes the days to let ourselves be and love ourselves as much as we can.

We don’t have to be ashamed, no matter how long we’ve been recovering. We don’t have to unreasonably expect “more” from ourselves. We don’t ever have to expect ourselves to live life perfectly.

Get through the slump. It will end. Sometimes, a slump can go on for days and then, in the course of an hour, we see ourselves pull out of it and feel better. Sometimes it can last a little longer.

Practice one recovery behavior in one small area, and begin to climb uphill. Soon, the slump will disappear. We can never judge where we will be tomorrow by where we are today.

Today, I will focus on practicing one recovery behavior on one of my issues, trusting that this practice will move me forward. I will remember that acceptance, gratitude, and detachment are a good place to begin.”

Living In The Solution

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

I messaged a friend on Facebook: “Oh, God Bless, Maryann, my heart goes out to you and all of us mothers. I often say on these sites that I’m grieving a living death because Annie, 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 recovery is 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 substance use disorder, 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.”

Deep Water

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

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!

Recovering From Fear

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

From The Forum, November, 2022:

“When I came into Al-Anon at the suggestion of a friend, my life was unmanageable in so many ways. I was unaware that living with alcoholism was involved in my broken relationships, divorce, several addictions, inability to be honest with myself, people pleasing, and other things I had not uncovered yet, either because of denial of lack of discovery.”

“lack of discovery…” Bingo! I feel as though I’d been living in a fog for most of my early life, only I didn’t know it. I didn’t know anything about the family disease that (I now know) was interfering with my well-being.

Where was this article—this enlightenment—when I needed it? As a younger woman I blamed myself and others for everything that was wrong in my life. I understood nothing about the complicated disease of substance use disorder. But twenty years of work in Al-Anon have opened my eyes. The fog has lifted and now I see more clearly. I understand why I internalized so much of the dysfunction that was happening in my family and carried the guilt myself from which there was no relief.

Not until I entered this compassionate fellowship. It is in these rooms that I found forgiveness for my parents and myself, along with critical tools to continue the healing work I was doing. The 12-Steps and the slogans, when practiced, have helped me navigate through my life. And life, itself, is a mixed bag. I’ve had joys, but also incredible sorrows. Using the teaching of Al-Anon as a guide, I’ve learned to be grateful for my blessings. And I’ve learned to accept my sorrows with grace without being destroyed by them. Learning how to put things into healthier perspective has been a gift of the program.

I have been given hope for a better life, and I’ll always be grateful that I opened my mind to some good advice: “Go to a meeting, Marilea. It might be the answer for you.”

It was. And my fears have been replaced by the certainty that all will be well, in God’s plan.

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

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

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 Rewards of Humility

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

From Healing Within Our Alcoholic Relationships, CAL, p. 22

“Step Seven: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings

  1. Am I really ready to have my shortcomings removed, or do I cling to some of my favorite ones—those I think are justified by circumstances?
  2. Do I know they cannot be removed until I am ready, and that while I have any reservations, I cannot be ready to be helped toward my goal of a full, serene life?
  3. Have I reached a point of being truly humble?
  4. Is it only my mind that is ready, or do I truly wish, from my heart, to learn how to live a better life?
  5. Unassuming as the tone of this step appears, can I see it as an instrument of power that can change my life?
  6. How soon will I learn to put it to use?”

All of these questions are good food for thought. On the first one, I am an expert at self-justification! Aren’t we all? J On #2, my readiness is critical to all parts of my recovery. If I really believe that I can’t get through the day without checking in with Annie “one last time,” then I’m not ready to have my stubbornness and denial removed—my belief that her recovery depends on my reaching out to her over and over again, regardless of her  continued lack of responses. For #3, I think that my continual failure to get what I want through my own devices has humbled me. I’m grateful for that. For #4, yes I truly wish to live a better life. And when I follow the Steps and guidelines in my recovery program, a better life is my reward.  

Seedlings Require Sunlight

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

Substance use disorder doesn’t discriminate. Before my daughter was swallowed up in it, she was a successful ten-year-old gymnast, competing in England while we were traveling in the Foreign Service and living in Greece. She was a gifted artist. And she graduated from college with a B.A. in Journalism. When she was twenty-one, it all fell apart.

I no longer speculate on “Why Annie?” Rich, poor, educated or not, substance use disorder can strike anywhere. And sometimes there is a gene component—four generations in my family—but not always.

The particular poignancy of this mother’s story is that Annie and I mirror each other: we both suffer from substance use disorder. So my story has a bit of a spin to it. It’s all graphically portrayed in my books. I’m not as detached as many parents without such baggage. My guilt and overinflated sense of responsibility consistently prevented me from being objective or from acting intelligently. I had to let go of my remorse before I could be helpful to her. And I had to learn to value myself enough to do that.

That came from working the steps of my recovery program. Self-forgiveness is critical to my ability to move on. Mine has been a classic redemption story.

I have learned to live well, despite the fact that my daughter is estranged from me. Many fellow parents, myself included, are primarily interested in the magic bullet that will save our children. But I’m glad I stayed in recovery long enough to learn that even though I’m powerless to save my daughter, I can still save myself. There are other voices in my world who call me: other children, grandchildren, family and many friends. I want to listen and live well for them. That is the message of my story and many others’: that even though I’m weathering one of a parent’s worst nightmares, I’ve learned that there’s no glory in martyrdom, and that I’ve earned the right to live happily, whether Annie recovers or not. Life goes on, and we with it. I’ve lived a blessed life, and only through my work in recovery have I found the good sense to recognize and be grateful for that.

As I’ve watched Annie slipping away all these years, I’ve learned to view my life through a different lens. The tools of recovery have taught me how to be grateful for what I have, how to let go of people and situations that I cannot change, and to have faith in something greater, wiser, and more powerful than I am.

Losing my child to substance use disorder did break me a few years ago, and in my brokenness and despair I turned toward the light that had always been there. I’m so grateful that I still had the eyes to see it.

Denial

Marilea C. RabasaLeave a comment

“No, not my daughter. She’s had such a privileged life, was given so many advantages, this couldn’t be happening to her.”

This is what I told myself for a long time. I simply couldn’t believe that my daughter would throw her life away like this. “This sort of thing happens to other people’s children.” Well, I got rid of that arrogance very quickly. Her behavior was undeniably that of a full-blown substance abuser, deep in the disease. This was the child I had raised, not other people’s children.

She stole everything that wasn’t nailed down in the house. When she said we must have been robbed, I believed her and called the police. I swallowed her lies hook, line and sinker. When she stole my identity, twice, the credit card company called me and encouraged me to call the authorities. I blew them off and said I would take care of it. I did nothing, afraid of the consequences she would face. I lacked the courage to do the right thing.

Those consequences might have taught her a lesson. But by helping her to avoid them, she was  emboldened to do more. This is what my denial had wrought; my daughter was a runaway train, having abandoned the moral code I taught all my kids when they were little, caught in the grip of a cruel disease that had claimed her for 23 years. Maybe if I had faced the truth early on, things would have been different. Or maybe not. I needed to accept the fact that my part in her disease was insignificant.

I don’t beat myself up with guilt anymore. I, too, have been in recovery for 23 years. And I have learned something important in the rooms: I did the best I could with what I knew at the time. I have since learned a lot and I know more, about denial, enabling, and preventing my child from facing the consequences of her actions.

 Yes, this is one of my many mantras: “I did the best I could with what I knew at the time.”

No more guilt. Just love and compassion for the both of us. Amen to that.