Outing myself on resentment

I don't know how I used to write every day.  These days it seems as if every day is repetitious.  We are sometimes busy with the garden, the boat, meetings, and going to town for odds and ends.  Sometimes we have lazy days where we read and take naps.  The only difference today is that I am going to write about a resentment.

We haven't yet begun to do the hard things with selling my parents-in-law's house.  My wife has found a real estate agent who will be listing it.  We are in a holding pattern until the caregivers move out.  C. gave them up to three months, March-May, to find a place.  They are still there but are packing up.

I am going to out myself on this.  I have been pissed because I believe that they are taking advantage of her offer.  The only thing that they have been paying are the utilities. They know that we have to come in, paint, shampoo the carpets, and get the house staged to sell.  Staging includes packing up all the unnecessary items and knickknacks that her parents had.

So the other day, C. was told that they would be out by May 31.  Okay, I get that  up to three months includes the very last day of May. But what about consideration for my wife and what we have to do to put the house on the market?  And to top this off,  the caregivers haven't found a place to rent but are moving in with the next door neighbor and her husband.

I know that this is none of my business. It's up to my wife to settle the estate, get the house ready and list it with the real estate agent.  I haven't been over to the house on purpose because I am not pleased with the fact that the caregivers are still there.  Yes, they were great to Mom.  They were also paid handsomely and had a place to live.  Now they are still living there while we are in a holding pattern.

It takes a great deal of reminding myself what I have learned in recovery to keep my mouth shut.  I am telling myself it is just a few more days and then we will be able to get to work on what we have to do with the house.  My wife leaves for a week in Nantucket on June 14 so I don't know whether we will be able to accomplish what we want to before she leaves.

Once again, I realize that I don't have to concern myself with this.  But there is this little voice that likes to pipe up in my head telling me that people are self-centered and think only of what is most convenient for them.  One of the caregivers owns a home on the island that she has rented out, so she is getting income and living now rent free.  Okay--enough of this--I don't need to think about the what if's, the why not's or the yes, but's now.

On other news, we are planning a picnic out here in early June for some recovery friends.  We seldom entertain anymore, so this will be a chance to spend a few hours with people and have burgers and BBQ.

I am off to the boat for part of the weekend.  Hard to believe that another Memorial Day has come around.  Hope that you are going to have a long weekend.

Where are the men?

I had a question from someone a few weeks ago about why more men don't go to Al-Anon.  Generally, when I read that every alcoholic affects the lives of at least twenty people, then it would be reasonable to conclude: 1) that more people in general would benefit from Al-Anon and 2) not all the affected people out there are women.  In my meetings, there are a few other men who attend regularly.  Basically, though men are outnumbered by about ten to one.  I remember going to my first meeting, where there was not another man there.  I certainly did get attention which was a good reason to keep going back.  Most of us don't mind being outnumbered by women ten to one!

Seriously,  I do think that men's brains are wired differently.  Many men aren't really good at reaching out and asking for help.  I didn't know what to expect from the first meeting.  Yes, it felt uncomfortable but somehow it also felt good to be welcomed warmly and for people to take an interest in me.  The leader was quite the dominator of that meeting.  And perhaps at that first meeting, I needed a strong voice to tell me what to do.  I was at a point where I knew I had to do something, but none of the options seemed too good.

At that first meeting, I was given some phone numbers.  I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to call these women or not. It felt awkward.  I waited several days and did call each of them.  I was relieved to be taken directly to their voice mail, so I left a message telling them thanks for the welcome and that I would be back.

I kept going back to that meeting and others.  Eventually,  I found groups that offered friendship, understanding, and compassion.  I found people who didn't tell me what to do.  And I found a sponsor who was willing to work with me on the steps and traditions of the program.

There was something really powerful about being in a room full of people, no matter that most were women,  who understood what I was feeling because they had been there.  I knew that I wasn't alone and that I didn't have to deal with the crazy stuff in my head by myself.

There are times when I'm in meetings and a person will get going on a share that has so many details that my leg begins to shake with agitation.  Or there will be a lot of crying and anguish.  It doesn't matter whether these are men or women because I am learning to be patient, listen and have empathy for those who are having a tough time.

Sometimes the passing of Kleenex and the quilt raffles strike me as totally feminine.  And I don't want to leave out the hugging, the butterflies, and the literature that talks about "his" drinking---LOL.  But, what's wrong with a hug, butterflies are beautiful, and I know lots of "his's" who drink too.

At one of my meetings, there is a male college student who keeps coming back. He is a good fellow who has a sense of humor.  It's good to see that he isn't fazed by being in the midst of women, some of whom are old enough to be his great-grandmother.  He seems perfectly comfortable being there.

Sadly though, many people don't stay.  They will come for one or two meetings and leave.  I hope that they have found what they are looking for elsewhere because alcoholism is a problem that we can't fix, control or ignore.  Its affects fall on just as many men as women.  I know that I understand the tools of the program, but the affects go back so far in my life that left to my own devices, I could easily revert back to being the angry, self-pitying man I was before.

Now I can say that the women in the rooms have been awesome.  They have been yelled at, physically abused,  financially bereft, yet still manage to laugh and to give those hugs.  Their eyes have changed from being dull and full of tears to being bright and twinkling with humor.  I am grateful for their help and the hand of fellowship that was extended to me.  

Asking for what I need

When I was going to a therapist to try to understand why I felt so rotten and unhappy, I was told to be assertive and ask for what I need. I've read that one of the things that fosters co-dependence is not having needs met as a child. I certainly had the material things but emotionally I know that there was something missing. I think that my father was emotionally distant and perhaps gave me a message that I needed to "suck it up". Somehow along the way I learned that expressing and asking for what I needed wasn't a good idea.

In my close relationships, I have historically depended on the other person to give me things that I need such as attention and love. I have had expectations that these things will be there--and in some ways I have taken these for granted. But these expectations have bred unbelievable frustration when I don't get what I want. I have blamed the other person for not "delivering". When I was in therapy, the concept of asking for what I needed seemed so foreign. What I thought was, "I don't need to ask. You should know what I need." What I have since learned is that I need to speak up and ask in order to improve my relationship with others.

It has taken quite a bit of work to quit expecting others to read my mind and to openly talk about my needs. This involves the assumption that I can ask but not get my way. There are compromises that occur. And in doing so, I learn that what I want doesn't align necessarily with what others want. This has helped to deepen my compassion and to see the opinions of others are as important to them as mine are to me.

The dynamics are different between men and women. My wife has told me that as a young girl she was told to obey her father and to respect authority figures. That's not much different from how I was raised. But I also learned to stuff my feelings and to deny them. The pain that I felt had to be hidden. It wasn't until much later that I learned to put feelings into words. And by doing that I became fully engaged with others. To this day though, I still feel a bit clumsy when sharing the deep personal stuff in a group. I can do it with my sponsor but for some reason it seems too raw to be put out there for the entire fellowship to see. I guess a part of me still wants to keep the pain hidden.

It's also easy for me to replay the old tapes that others should be able to know my needs. And sometimes my asserting what I need may seem selfish when it's really about understanding how I fit in with the rights and responsibilities of those around me. I now seek a balanced approach in which I embrace what I need and can express my hope and dreams.