The turning point

This week, I read some posts by people who have decided to ask for help with their loved one's addiction, rather than go it alone. I know how much courage it takes to walk into a room of strangers and take a seat. Most of us did not think that we would ever need to reach out in desperation, admit that we had a problem, and seek out others.  But alcoholism and drug addiction can bring even the strongest of us to our knees.

I suppose it is shame and fear about the disease that keeps us from admitting we need help.  I remember that several years before I finally went to Al-Anon, a good friend suggested that I go.  I still thought that I could deal with everything. I could take what alcoholism dished out.  I didn't want to admit that I needed help, regardless of what my loved one was doing. But alcoholism doesn't give up. I suffered a few more years before I realized just how powerful the disease is.

I am not sure what the turning point was for me.  Maybe it was just a culmination of all the little things resulting from alcoholism that added up to my surrender. Maybe it was the night my wife drove off drunk and left me to walk home. Maybe it was having to make sure she didn't fall down the stairs in a blackout or aspirate on her own vomit. Whatever it was, something inside of me shifted, and I saw what a sham my life was.   So when another friend suggested I go to a meeting, I knew that it was time. I had come to the point in my life where I needed a life ring, because I was drowning.

So here I am nearly 8 years later.  I made the decision to get help and to help others.  I have heard my story countless times in the rooms of Al-Anon.  I have seen parents lose their children to the disease.  I have seen those same parents realize that there was nothing they could have done.  I have seen people who were broken, laugh out loud and have tears of joy. I have seen incredible grace reside in the roughest of people.  I have found friends that I did not think I would ever have.  I have been blessed with a renewal in my relationship with my wife, who I love more than anything or anyone. None of this seemed possible, but now I see that by shedding my pride and reaching out my hand, I have been granted a new way to live.

To say that I am grateful is an understatement.

Terminally unique

I have heard the expression of being "terminally unique" which is often an attitude that is used to exempt a person from some of the principles of Al-Anon and the twelve steps.  I experienced that attitude of uniqueness for years.  I thought that I was different from others and that no one else could possibly have experienced the rotten things that I had.  I realize that thinking I was different from others not only isolated me in life but kept me away from the benefits of recovery. 

It isn't unusual to hear someone talk about how difficult their situation is.  Their misery is much greater because they have a child who is on the streets whereas others have a much less burdensome situation with an alcoholic spouse.  I don't have children so I can't identify.  I am sure their pain is a harsh and hard thing.  But I have also heard in Al-Anon that we don't compare our burdens and pain.  To me, living with an alcoholic for many years was very painful. 

Fortunately, when I went to my first meeting I heard others talk about their alcoholic spouses.  I could tell that I belonged.  I didn't think that I was so different because of education, financial situation or any other reason.  I could identify with what I heard. 

Last night, a couple at the Beginner's Meeting shared about how difficult is was for them to let their addict son go.  He is active and living with them.  The father said that having a child who has problems with drugs or alcohol is different from having a spouse who has those problems.  Yes, I suppose it could be.  But isn't the end result the same--that if I keep doing the same things over and over and those things don't work, that perhaps I need to consider other options?

I believe in the end, we have far more similarities than differences in our desire to help those we love.  I think that each of us who come to Al-Anon are there because we are desperate.  Some are desperate to help the alcoholic, while others are desperate to save ourselves from what has become a miserable existence.   I am glad that I was at the point of being desperate enough to save myself.  I had reached my breaking point and knew that I was beaten by alcoholism. 

I suspect that the couple whose son is still actively using were there to save him.  They left half way through the regular meeting.  I was sorry to see them go but perhaps they haven't reached the point where they realize that fixing their son isn't possible.  There is one thing for sure, we are each unique--just like everyone else.

A man named Joseph

He was standing in a near stupor where I generally park my car.  This is the section of town that hasn't been gentrified.  It is the area where the poor, addicted, and homeless people hang out.  On this day I was going to an open AA meeting next to a homeless shelter.

It was hard to tell his age.  He looked old and used up to me. His eyes were blood shot, his clothes were worn.  He shuffled over to me when I got out of my car.  He asked me in a raspy voice, "Hey there, could you give me some money for a cup of coffee and some food.  I'm hungry."  Something told me that if I gave him money, it wasn't going to go for food.  I thought it likely that he would head for the grocery store around the corner and buy a bottle of whatever he reeked of as he stood there looking at me expectantly.

I asked him what his name was.  He said, "Name's Joseph."  A biblical name, after the man who descended from King David and who was the earthly father of Jesus.  I told Joseph my name and asked if he wanted to go have a cup of coffee with me.  He nodded and began to follow me.  I told him that I was going to a meeting around the corner and that maybe he would like to go with me.  There were some nice people there, lots of coffee, and some cookies.  He kept following me.

So the two of us, strangers until a few minutes ago, walked along together.  We didn't have much of a conversation.  Joseph said that he hadn't eaten in a while.  He said that I was "mighty nice" to take him to this meeting where there was coffee and cookies.  I was thinking that I was pulling a fast one on Joseph and starting to wonder what the hell I was doing.

We were at the meeting just as the coffee was brewing.  The cookies were out on the counter.  I told Joseph to get some cookies, have a seat and that I'd get his coffee when it was ready.  We sat next to each other.  He said, "Dis here is a nice place". After I got his coffee,  I asked Joseph if he would like to stay for the meeting.  He mumbled that he would stay.

As people filed in and took their seat,  Joseph looked warily around.  This is not an uptown meeting. It is filled with a mixture of all types, some in suits, most in jeans, some down and out. It is raw and real. I thought that maybe Joseph could relate. I know that I did.

I guess that I was hoping for a miracle to happen.  The Al-Anon in me wanted Joseph to see "the light" and get the message.  I had not fully understood at the time that surrender isn't mine to bestow on anyone.  It's not like the free coffee and cookies.

Midway through the meeting, Joseph got up without even a glance at me and shuffled out the door into the cold winter day.  I never saw him again.

Thanks to Chris for prodding my memory of this brief encounter.

Wednesday snow

I'm including more photos that I took walking around here yesterday. It is snowing here today and is supposed to continue tomorrow and the next day. There are a couple of field trips at noon so it will be hearty weather for the marsh and beach. I'm sitting near a window and am really enjoying watching it come down.



I like these old photos that are prevalent around the lab. The one above was from a class trip and picnic to a nearby island. It reminded me of the wooden boat that we row on Wednesday evenings. This was not a power boat but a humanly powered boat. A change of pace from today for sure.



The gentleman above is from the old school when marine science was all about macro discoveries--new species, functions of habitats, and natural history. I like the fedora and the suit. Today the field has an influx of genetics, physiology, and cellular experts. There is more balance between the macro and micro components now. But there is nothing like seeing these early pioneers in the field when just about everything was a new discovery.

I have talked to my wife several times a day since I left. We are missing each other. I wish that she could have come up here with me, not to attend the meetings but to visit the area where she also spent time going on ships. It has a lot of nostalgia for us.

I was thinking about a comment made on yesterday's post about the pain associated with having loved ones who are still active with drinking and using. I know that my disappointment and sorrow would be huge if my loved one were to start drinking again. However, I also accept fully that there is nothing I can do to stop her if she wants to start. All I can do is love her, take care of myself, and move on with my life, even if emotionally I am shot full of holes.

I can say that I have some program tools to help with disappointment and grief, but those emotions will still have to be felt. Such is the nature of love. It is when the pain of loving becomes sufficient that surrender is the only option. Some of us figure out early on that there is nothing to be done to change another. Others like me are stubbornly determined and try for years and years to effect change. We try until we are used up emotionally and have lost ourselves. I am most grateful that I found a program of recovery which has shown me there are other options for living.

Finally, I'm including a shot of where I am blogging up here: the bed in the dorm room. Spartan for sure. My trusty Mac book is on the table next to the bed. The extra blanket was a good thing to have last night. Hope you have a good day.

When the time is right

Yesterday, I had a killer headache and decided to take a sick leave day and just lie on the couch in front of a fire. I did some work on a report, read and commented on some blogs, and took a long nap.

It was nice to be home and to talk with my wife who rarely slows down. Most of the time, she is busy working on something--writing, reading, cooking, gardening, going to meetings, and so on. She seemed to be delighted that I was home.

There used to be a time that I would hear the clink of glasses in the kitchen and know that she wasn't measuring out spices for a recipe but instead measuring out wine for the daily anesthesia. The tension was always in my gut. Just as she would numb herself with wine, I would numb myself through self pity and sadness and try to energize myself through self-righteous anger.

We have both come a long way together. I think that in spite of all the terrible things that we have thought and said to each other, there is a lasting commitment. How does one explain that over the long haul, there is solidity in spite of all the things we have said and done?

I wonder sometimes if we have stayed together because we are hopeless co-dependents. Or perhaps we stayed together because the fear of leaving and change is overwhelming. But something tells me that there is a greater reason for being committed to this imperfect life together.

So maybe it's not about me, her or the fears about alcoholism and loss. Maybe this is about something bigger than both of us. I see this as another example of God's grace because surely many people would have called it quits after these many years.

We have chosen to commit to recovery and with recovery we have found renewed commitment for each other. And I think that the miracle is that we didn't commit to this course of action before we were ready. If we had merely tried, I don't believe that either of us would have gotten help.

Instead, the timing had to be right. There had to be enough misery, enough fear, enough resentment for me to be ready to listen, be willing, and surrender.

The timing had to be right for me to seek a Higher Power, to ask for guidance and to remove the blinders from my eyes.

The timing had to be right for me to recognize that there is a solution.

The timing had to be right for me to be ready to commit.

I think that you know me

You know who I am. You're just pretending that I don't exist. I've been around you for all of your life.

I watched you cry when you were young. I saw the discomfort on your face. I once beat you for waking me up from a nap. I criticized you. I saw how you slipped away to a quiet spot, any place away from me.

I remember that you used to laugh and want to be around me. Then as awareness took hold, you became wary of me. You knew but were too young to fully understand what was happening and what I was doing.

As you grew up, moved away and began a life of your own, you saw the effects of my cunning in lots of situations. You saw people vomit, you watched them stumble, you heard them try to talk, to make sense when they were senseless. Yet, you held true to yourself. You didn't let me in fully or embrace me.

Then, you made a decision one day to live your life with one of my disciples. At first, you were in love, living a fantasy. Then the ugly truth took hold but still you didn't believe in my power. You simply thought that your own power was greater than mine.

I knew that I would beat you down. But it took a lot of years. You were strong and willful. You still believed that love would make a difference. What you didn't realize was that love isn't important to me. I'm too wrapped up in myself, I'm too angry, too filled with anxiety, too messed up to appreciate your love.

I liked to make promises to you because you so easily believed them. I made you sick at heart, sick in your soul. It took me years to do it but I succeeded in beating you down. I saw that I had claimed another victim.

And just when I thought that I had you totally in my clutches, you cried out that you needed help. You walked away from me and did what you could to fill your heart and soul with joy, gratitude, hope, and faith.

I still try to get to you. At times I succeed but now you have developed defenses against me. You have found a Power that is greater than you and than me. But just remember--I am waiting for you. I am still around. I look for a chink in your armor, a weakness in your soul. And I will claim you again if you aren't vigilant.

I think that you know me. My name is alcoholism.

Surrender

I talked with a sponsee last night. He has separated from his wife, who is addicted to cocaine, crack and alcohol. The wife is in a local hospital's psych unit because she took a bunch of pills earlier in the week. After taking the pills, she called to tell him. And she blamed her suicide attempt on his filing for divorce. Nice.

Anyway, he is pretty much a mess and is still getting roped in by the master manipulations of the addict/alcoholic. She will call and ask to come back home. He says that he doesn't think that is a good idea. She will then say that she is going to stay clean and that her sobriety will go so much better if they get back together. He finds it hard to stay detached. Sigh.

He wants to know how I finally quit being roped in by the manipulations and repeated promises of the alcoholic. I told him that I finally was laid so low that I gave up my attempts to control or to believe that I could help her. In short, I surrendered. I knew that I was desperately sick myself and that I no longer thought that there was any hope for our relationship. I simply wanted to see if I could save myself. I wanted to live again.

He hears this but doesn't seem to be at the point yet that he is willing to work on his own insanity around the alcoholic/addict. She is still his higher power. He doesn't want to work the steps but calls me to unload when things get heavy. I told him that I found joy and a greater amount of happiness than I thought possible through working the steps. I trusted the process. I trusted my sponsor. And I learned to trust in a Higher Power.

I can only share how it worked for me. He will surrender when the pain becomes bad enough.