Tag: Al-Anon

Good Enough

Over the years, I have expressed countless prayers of gratitude to the late Janet Woititz, whose seminal book Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACOAs) was first published in 1983.

The publication of Woitiz’s book, led, in large part, to the creation of a similar but separate entity affiliated with the successful self-help group Alcoholics Anonymous (“AA”) called Adult Children of Alcoholics (“ACA”). ACA followed the traditional Alcoholics Anonymous model and attendant groups like Al-Anon and Ala-Teen.

If you know anything about AA, you will know its members follow “The Big Book” for guidance. The 400-plus page Big Book not only details the difficult personal histories of AA’s founders, Bill W. and Dr. Bob, but the personal experiences of some alcoholics, as well. The book presents a series of solutions that evolved to become the twelve-step program.

In 2006, ACA published its own 646-page text for its members called “The Big Red Book” mirroring AA’s “The Big Book.”

ACA is more of a therapeutic program that emphasizes self-care and re-parenting one’s own wounded inner child with love and compassion. It aims to build individuals up, encourages them to assume personal responsibility by standing up for their right to a healthy life, and then actively work on the necessary changes inside themselves in order to heal.

ACA’s overall approach is to move its members away from the temptation to “become a victim” and help them see the family dysfunction of addiction that they were raised in as an affliction that can be overcome and healed.

I learned the hard way that adult children of alcoholics are prone to develop unhealthy personality traits and coping mechanisms as a result of their growing-up experiences. While an individual personality is influenced by genetics, environment, and personal experiences, so-called ACOAs commonly exhibit certain similar and dysfunctional personality traits.

One common trait is a tendency towards over-preparation and perfectionism. Growing up in an unpredictable or chaotic environment, constant vigilance and preparation for the unexpected can be a child’s fairly normal response. Into adulthood, overpreparation can be an instinct that developed to control their surroundings and avoid any potential disruptions in their present surroundings. Or as we often put it in the business world, to avoid being blindsided.

And so the tendency is working through me at this minute. I am in the midst of preparing for an important personal meeting tomorrow. I have rarely felt a stronger need to be fully prepared, have my ducks in a row, to yield no quarter. In the past few weeks, I have been trying to impose an unrealistic level of order on the preparation I had already completed. Yesterday, I had a word with myself.

Take a breather. Stand down a little. Whatever the outcome, you will live another day. If you’re lucky. All to say I am someone committed to thorough and professional preparation. But I am no longer prepared – as adult children of alcoholics like me tend to do – to stress myself and anybody nearby dithering over details that cannot be controlled and that likely won’t matter.

It is tough as hell for me to say something is “good enough.” Excellence. Perfectionism. Overpreparation. These were my watchwords. They also keep lawyers in business by warning you about all of the possible “What ifs.” Don’t get me wrong. Their counsel is wise and for the most part, I heed it.

But the most perverse lesson I have learned in life is that what ultimately blindsides you is something you never dreamed would happen in a hundred years. You could not have prepared for it. There was nothing that would have altered the outcome. Whatever that blindside was, it emerged only in an alchemy of circumstances that didn’t exist before the blindsiding happened. It is what it is.

So as I check and recheck the lists I’ve made and the order of the documents I have collected and if they have all of the required elements they need, I am giving myself permission to ease up on myself.

A famous quote (apparently falsely attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt but still a very good one) goes: “Women are like teabags. The only way to find out how strong one is is to put her in hot water.” I’ll stare down this challenge as I have stared down dozens of others. What I have done to date is good enough. And if it isn’t, they will let me know.

Cuppa tea, anyone?

Comes A Time

If I’ve learned one thing in my life, it is that I have a choice about who is admitted to my inner circle. I like to be on good terms with as many people as possible. I make that choice for me and for my happiness.

I used to be a world-class negative Nelly. There were few positive and joyous occasions that I couldn’t turn into misery. My “critical eye” as I called it, could see the downside of any situation, and filter out the joy to its’ true and dark core. What a sad little girl I was.

The only difference between then and now is that I see it was a choice. I was a troubled young adult. I tried to convince myself that my negativity and questionable behaviors were somehow mitigated and counter-balanced by the strengths I brought to the table.

As I fought to grow stronger and healthier and started to abandon habits and behaviors that did not serve me, my life experiences grew more positive. Eventually, I was able to appreciate the positivity in any situation. I was also able to more clearly see those who were still afflicted by negativity like I once was.

When you discover a negative Nelly within your own inner circle, it is disappointing. I learned on my journey to let go of blame. I forgave people because not forgiving them was hurting me more than it was hurting them. I believe the saying is: “Resentment is like taking poison and hoping your enemies get sick.”

Sure I have been badly hurt. Often. Many things happened in my life that I didn’t want to happen and wouldn’t wish on others. But one day I realized it was my choice whether I wanted to live in bitterness for the rest of my life. The answer was and is a hard no.

I realized how much comfort I took from the certainty I had about others who harmed me. I was right and they were wrong. They hurt me and so I had every reason to treat them with disdain and disrespect. The irony was the only person I ended up hurting most with my crummy behavior and attitude was myself.

As I pushed forward in healing, I started to abandon people. They held fast to the truth of their own narrative. There was nothing I could say or do or point out to them that would change their minds. Their minds were made up about what life was, how far they could go in it, and their opinion of me.

I had to let go. I am willfully estranged from my two sisters and their families. There are twinges of regret for some happy memories that we shared a long, long time ago. But those memories are too few and the narrative they hold on to is too unhealthy for me. I walked away.

I rarely think of them, in fact. I am on the brink of another painful estrangement with a family member. This one is even closer and harder to walk away from. I have learned that you can’t push a string. People are who they are who they are. If their position is utterly contrary to my well-being and they mistreat me without apology and accountability, I have no choice.

I find it odd how much license and power many people give to family to mistreat them. There is behavior that would have us turn on our heel, walk out and never again deal with a stranger who did the same thing to us. Yet in families, there is a tendency to tolerate abusive behavior. The forgiveness of “those who trespass against us” is one thing. Tolerance of chronic toxic behavior is self-destruction.

Many of the most powerful lessons I learned around this were from Al-Anon. When you are dealing with an addict, you are dealing with someone who is lost in their own illness. You are not dealing with a fully functioning human being. Similarly, when you are dealing with a toxic personality who blames and mistreats you for all of their ills, you are in a toxic and no-win situation.

It is a positive, if sad, day when you realize there are no words nor actions nor gifts nor any amount of money that will correct the situation. You do what you can until you can’t do anything any longer.

At some point, the weight and imbalance of a one-way relationship buckles and you break. More accurately, something breaks inside of you. What you once felt for that person and what once was in your relationship is over.

Anyone who has lived through any major relationship breakup – maybe several – will recognize the pattern of breaking down and growing apart and the pain that goes with it.

There was a saying in my family. I have only just started to realize the truth of it. “When Christmas is over, it is time to take down the tree.” There is a point at which hoping and loving and trying and wishing for someone to be other than who they are simply doesn’t work anymore. You accept what is.

Maybe that person will one day come around, treat you better, and apologize for their transgressions. Maybe not. That “point of departure” when you realize the relationship you have no longer feeds you is a sad day but also a liberating one.

It frees you from feeding a relationship that no longer serves you. It frees you from holding on to a fantasy of how things might be. And it lets you get on with the business of living your own life.

Which is, ultimately, all that any of us can do and be responsible for.