Mary Bailey Was a Friend of Lois* (Or: Tips on How To Get Through A Holiday).

It's late here on Christmas Eve, and my lids are falling as I type this, stiff-thumbed, on my phone.  So I apologize beforehand for what will be a rushed post.  But I was watching "It's A Wonderful Life" tonight and I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between George Bailey and my husband.

In a couple scenes we see George with Mary and he is (somewhat understandably) distracted, agitated, confused, self-absorbed and at times looks a little crazy.  When he comes home after finding out the $8,000 is lost like, for sure, his face is drawn, his eyes are wild with worry, fear, and he clutches his child and cries desperately.  Mary sees him, and we watch as, slowly, the bewilderment and then acknowledgement of the situation registers on her face. And then...she does nothing.  She turns back to the tree and the kids and she goes about her business.  She goes about her business. THEN, even after George lashes out and wonders why they had all these kids anyway (a little unacceptable, methinks) she tries to guide him into the kitchen and away from the kids, and she doesn't even look angry. You can see the love on her (concerned) face. 

She speaks up for the kids after his outburst (because she's not a doormat) but doesn't argue with him, and when he leaves she doesn't follow him to ask him what the hell is wrong with him.  Sure, she does call around to the entire town and try to help George and figure out what's wrong (after all, she's an Al Anon) but she didn't nag, scold or complain, she didn't lose her temper.  She observed his behavior as his property. 

Today was a tough day for me.  My husband is in the mood where he just seems to completely hate me; his demeanor with me fluctuates from barely-concealed disdain to complete ambivalence.  He isn't saying anything mean or being abusive - he is just withdrawn in a silent rage.  It's been a while since I've attended a good meeting, and though I could blame my slips on that fact, I fear I am reaching the end of my rope.  In the past few days I've seen myself behave as the kind of person I never thought I would be (after recovery) - extremely passive-aggressive, sarcastic, short, on edge, and just rude. Here I am with my family at Christmas and I am letting this trip and this holiday be about my husband's alcoholism and my pain.  That's not fair to me, my family, or my husband.

My home-meeting's lead today was about expectations. As I've mentioned before, there's the saying that "expectations are resentments waiting to happen."  Last Christmas my husband behaved just the same way he has been the last few days.  It wasn't always like this, and sure it's hard to find the similarities in a once-a-year celebration.  I can't reasonably expect my husband to behave in whatever way I deem desirable "because it's Christmas."  I can't think to myself, wishfully, "Sure, he acts this way all the time - but it's Christmas."  Unfortunately addiction doesn't honor holidays, or birthdays, or anniversaries.  I can't expect him to be thoughtful, selfless, affectionate, interested in spending time with me and my family, curious about my day, the list goes on and on.  That's just how it is, and to wish or hope or expect otherwise borders on masochism. 

At this point, my only expectation should be that, as an alcoholic, my husband will continue to drink until he reaches his bottom, if that ever happens.  Even on Christmas. 

Some things that I will try to keep in mind tomorrow, that I hope can help some of you as well:

1) This is not about me.  I have done nothing to deserve the treatment I'm getting, so I can stop trying to figure out what I did, or why he is this way. 

2) Alcoholics drink because they're alcoholics.  Not because (fill in the blank). 

3) I didn't cause it, can't control it and can't cure it.

4) This day will not be about his disease or my pain because of it.  I am going to enjoy the day and be happy regardless of his drinking. 

5) I will "let it begin with me."  Other people's moods do not dictate my moods, do not control my behavior and do not make me the type of person who isn't kind on purpose, who reserves her affection for others and punishes her husband with a cold and silent shoulder out of retaliation.  Living this way is exhausting and just for today, I can't do it.

6)  I will keep my focus on the conversations I'm supposed to be paying full and complete attention to, really enjoy whatever movie we're watching, savor our meal and smile with an open and easy heart.

Time to go to sleep now, this elf is wiped.  And though I'm a little sad I'm not giving that emotion or my husband's alcoholism the power over my day.  My family and friends have blessed me with their love and friendship and support; I have so much for which to be grateful and this day is about so much more. 

To all a good night and may we all have peace, comfort and joy. 

*Al Anon was started by Lois Wilson, wife of Bill Wilson (the founder of AA). Those in Al Anon are sometimes called "a friend of Lois" as AA members are "a friend of Bill." 

Working On My White Space

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I need to stop staring at the black dot.

A program friend of mine attended a newcomer's meeting recently, in which she heard a fantastic share: a woman recalled how her sponsor held up a blank sheet of paper, and then on the sheet of paper put one black dot.  When asked what she saw, the woman said "a black dot."  Her sponsor then wisely pointed out the overwhelming amount of blank space around the dot.  

"The blank space is waiting to be filled with our lives, our hopes and our dreams.  Our passions, hobbies and interests."

When I heard this I thought - "I. Am so. Tired."  

The other morning I woke up with a migraine.  Woke up, after a full night's sleep, with a migraine.  And all I could think was, "Hey, wait a second - isn't the wrong person hungover, here?"  

But just like my husband may become sick with withdrawal from alcohol, I make myself sick - with the constant obsession over what he's thinking, planning, drinking, and the subsequent withdrawals of ME.  

MY plans.

MY interests.

MY passions.

MY life.

Back in the day, I used to be a much more interesting person.  I used to you know, know stuff.  Stuff that I could talk about intelligently and passionately, like books.  Books that I was able to read cover to cover without stopping because it was before the time that it became too much work to read something so completely unrelated to anything having to do with alcoholism, recovery - basically anything that I was too busy worrying about to actually live my life.  And to boot, all this has left me feeling oh, a tad socially awkward.

I have lost myself.

A few months ago, a kind soul opened her home to me while I was traversing the country on a wee road trip.  A planned lunch stop was quickly rescheduled.  "I think you should stay the night :o)" she texted.  So it was a lovely two days of lounging, chatting, drinking tea, exploring, doing everyday things, drinking more tea, and being in the world again.

At one point my friend asked me The Question.  The Question which I had so much trouble answering that made me think, something is really wrong here.  Why is this so hard?  It went like this:

"So what kinds of movies do you typically watch?"
"Um..."
".....?"
"....."
"Comedies?"
"Um...."
"Well what was the last movie you saw?"
"...."
"....?"
"Hold on I'm thinking."

Finally I squeaked out "Yeah, um, comedies...um...historical dramas?"  I was in a panic.  The fact of the matter was I didn't even know what movies I like anymore.  I may as well have answered with something like "Movies good.  Popcorn.  Actors."  *Facepalm*

So as I'm thinking about all this I had a little epiphany.  Have you ever seen one of those optical illusions where you look at a picture for a length of time and then afterwards, the picture remains in your sight?  That's the problem with focusing on the black dot so intensely.  Even when you try to look away YOU SEE IT EVERYWHERE.  Dot.  Dot.  Dot!  DOT.  A hologram haunting every attempt at refocus elsewhere.  

Sure, the black dot is there.  There's nothing we can do about the black dot itself - it exists in our lives, I mean, it's there.  To pretend it's not there is denial, and I was there for a long time.  If we want the black dot to "go away", that would mean a few different things: after some serious thinking about whether to stay or go, either the removal of ourselves from our relationship...or?  That's it.  If we don't want the black dot in our lives, that's it.

For those of us who remain, or for those of us who may have a relationship with a high-functioning alcoholic and cannot break up or divorce that person (they are our parents, our children, or other family members) what we can do is work on our white space.  Fill up our own lives with who we are, what we're passionate about.  Maybe it's a favorite charity to which we haven't devoted much time, maybe it's taking more time to care for our own health and well-being - making that yoga class on Wednesday nights that we "never have time for" or asking a friend or neighbor to watch the kids so we can catch a movie.  Or relaxing and reading that book that's been gathering dust on our nightstand, getting back into an old hobby or interest, catching up with friends.  I guarantee you there are tons of things I can't even think of because I'm just not completely there yet myself to even fathom what they are.

What it means, ultimately, is to be more present in our own lives.  To honor our own spirits, our amazingly varied and special personalities, and to nourish the relationships we have with friends and family.  I can tell you this - sure, I am geographically handicapped and am miles and miles from those I love, but I sure miss my friends.  A few in particular, who had been such a bright, fun source of friendship and support, that surely I was not a proper friend to, as I was too busy dealing with "everything" to really be there for them.  And they spent so much time being there for me, lifting and filling me up.  They knew my circumstances and I felt safe with them, free from judgment.

My heart misses them, and as we're right in the middle of the holiday season it makes me want to drive all the way to their houses, skip wildly back and forth in front of their front lawns with signs and say "Thank you!  Thank you for seeing ME in the middle of everything, thank you for loving and caring for ME.  Now it's your turn!"  My friends and family are such a huge part of ME, and who I am, and fostering relationships with my wonderful "family of choice" is a tremendous blessing.  And I hope that I can get closer to being the real ME as I come out of this dark cloud, to be the real and great friend, daughter, sister and loved one that I know I am.

We are so fortunate to have those in our lives that do this for us, and it's completely and totally okay that sometimes we are that person that do those things for us, that we are enough.  A couple weeks ago I ordered a gorgeous flowery electric tea kettle, and a dainty cup and saucer set, just one of each.  And at night, after a lovely bath with essential oils, I truly relish sitting down to a great cup of Earl Grey, reading my new favorite book, surrounded by my snoozing animals.  It doesn't sound like much but it's a huge step for me, and I love it.  Maybe it's serenity that I'm experiencing, and it's a feeling that I didn't think I could have in my situation.  It makes me feel stronger and more able to take care of myself, and build my own life.  That I can and will be okay.  That I am enough.

There are certain things that make me feel like myself again.  The Real Me is in there, and when I do these things she opens her eyes, yawns and stretches at the day, looks around and says "Ah, here I am.  I am here."

What are those things for you?  What helps you feel like yourself again?

It's That Time of Year, and it can be challenging to focus on our white space right now.  But as always, my hope stretches out to you that you can find a small corner of your own white space, curl up in it or stretch out, throw some pottery, go hiking, sign up for that beginner's French class you always wanted to take, make your grandmother's ravioli, dance around and frolic or take a nap.  Whatever floats your boat.

As for me, time to go study up on Netflix.  If someone else asks me The Question anytime soon, I want to be prepared.

"...And The Lady Will have The Spinach Dip."

This past week and a half has been rough.

I mentioned in my previous post that my husband is once again stonewalling me - sleeping on the couch, getting ready in the other bathroom, not wearing his wedding ring.  Not wearing his wedding ring.  It always hurts, and always confuses.  Especially when there are small "nice" gestures thrown in each day for good measure (though he remains sleeping on the couch without his ring).  I try to tell myself, "This is part of the disease, this has nothing to do with you."  But it's hard to detach sometimes.

When I type it out it hits me how insane this all is, especially because I look back at what's transpired in terms of "arguments" and there isn't anything I did that could possibly justify this kind of behavior.  And that's the issue of mine that I still struggle with, even after a year and a half in Al Anon: every time there is unacceptable behavior I try to understand why, and how, and what did I do?  I still have not completely realized the fallacy of the "logic" - his or mine, in the dysfunctional dynamic we have been living in for so long - that the only thing that can change my husband's behavior is my behavior.

Last night, after coming home from work and making his own dinner, my husband left without saying to where or when he'd be back.  He returned shortly thereafter, having forgotten something, and he lingered at the door.  I gave in and asked him where he was going.

"Out."
"Well out, right, but where?"
"Somewhere. I don't know."

He said he just wanted to be out, and it was very clear that he did not want to be here, with me, and our pets, and the weekend ahead of us ready to be filled with things to do together.  He looked sad, on the verge of angry tears.  When I offered that I'd be gone walking our dogs, that he could have the run of the house, I realized I was trying to get him to stay, and stopped. "Okay", I said, and walked away before he walked out.

This was huge for me - just last week he wanted to leave and I tried to talk him into staying, I just thought "This is ridiculous - I have to get through to him.  He can't just leave like this! I deserve to be listened to, I'm his wife!"  He ended up shoving me away from the door.

So last night, after he left, I continued to do the next right thing and take care of myself - I leisurely walked our dogs as planned and went for a swim.

In the pool, while floating around, I heard other couples in our complex giggling, laughing, talking on their way home from dinner.  It occurred to me it was Friday night - Friday night - and I am alone in our pool, and at this rate probably going to spend the evening alone and waiting for him to come back, potentially going to bed in a fit of resentment, anger and hurt.

Then the record scratched.

"No way", I thought.  "I'm going to meet my own needs."

So you know what I did?  I took myself out on a date.  I got dressed up, did my makeup, put on perfume, zipped myself up, told myself how nice I looked, and I took myself out on a date.  I let me pick the restaurant.  I even held the door open for me.  Who says chivalry is dead?

On the way to the restaurant, it was difficult to stay in the moment and not become anxious at the thought of my husband returning home and finding I had left.  "He's going to be upset" I kept thinking, but I put it out of my mind.  I wanted to give myself a nice night out, and the only way to do that would be to stay in the moment.

It was a late dinner, and when I returned home my husband was still gone, though I could tell he had been home.  A few things were missing, and it became clear to me that he had no intention of returning until the end of the weekend.

As of this post I still have not heard from my husband - no calls, no texts.  I awoke in the middle of the night last night in a panic, my heart racing, fearing something had happened to him or he'd been arrested or worse.  That this is somehow my fault, playing the guilt & regret tape on repeat in my mind, playing back things I could have done differently.  But I am not in control of my husband's behavior - there are no invisible marionette strings.  And any analysis of cause and effect means I'm slipping back into codependency and unhealthy habits.  His behavior is his property and my behavior is my property.  The more I remind myself of that, the better I can calm down, breathe, and get some sleep.

Why is it so hard to accept this?

When it comes down to it, it's this: when I accept that I am not the problem then I must accept that I am not the solution.  Anything I say, do or offer is of no lasting consequence to the health, behavior and sobriety of my husband.

It doesn't matter how much I love on him.

It doesn't matter how many times we have sex. 

It doesn't matter how often I tell him I love him.
It doesn't matter what or how often I cook for him.

It doesn't matter if I don't tell him "Good Morning" the morning after a fit.

It doesn't matter if he gets love notes or other tokens of affection.
It doesn't matter.

My husband will continue to drink until he experiences a consequence.  One could argue that all of the loving, kind things I've done for him - despite his unacceptable treatment of me - is enabling.  It's fuzzy to me, and though I'm not sure, I definitely do see how continuing to "go along to get along" has not helped him in the direction of a consequence.  And to boot, though I try to "let it begin with me", I too often fall into being a doormat.

I hope anyone reading this understands that it is not their fault.  That we all deserve to be treated with love and respect by our husbands and wives.  And that behavior and treatment of this nature is passive-aggressive manipulation, not communication of feelings, thoughts and needs.

So take yourselves to dinner.  Take your kids for a walk.  Go to the movies.  Sit for a quiet 30 minutes by yourself.  Cook the new recipe your friend e-mailed you.  Read the book that's getting dusty on your side table.  Sitting around worrying, waiting or wishing for your alcoholic to meet your needs is such a waste of the precious now that we are so fortunate to have.


Please all take care of yourselves, and try to do the next right thing.  I'll be doing the same.

Keep Your Mind Where Your Feet Are.

Sometimes when things are so frustrating with my husband, I have tunnel-vision and focus on his itchy, irksome behavior or anything else over which I have absolutely NO control - his secret drinking, his in-front-of-me drinking, the fact that he's an alcoholic, how he loads the dishwasher - and *POOF*!  There goes my hour.  Or my day.  Or my week!  Year...yikes.

We just got back from our trip for the 4th, where we had some amazing outdoors experiences.  Amazing experiences that almost passed me by because I was stuck in my head and living through my husband's experience of withdrawal, cravings, distance, and anger, and not my own.  True, it sometimes seemed as though he was on vacation and I just happened to be there, but it didn't mean that I had to stop enjoying myself with such pathetic resignation after becoming aware of what I was doing.  No way.  NO. WAY.

So as my mind swirled with fear and worry and resentment and anger and hurt and grief and damn, ANGER, I literally stopped in my tracks and let my husband get even farther ahead of me on our hike, looked down at my feet, and closed my eyes.  I pressed into the dirt.  I wiggled my toes.  I tried with every force I could muster to figuratively shoot my mind and thoughts down my spine, through my legs and into my shoes.

"THERE.  You are THERE on the ground, on this path.  We are here in this moment," I told my mind and my feet.  They stared back at me, dusty and without response.  Which was comforting really because at that point in my insanity I half-expected something in return.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of the beautiful clear and crisp air, looked up at all surrounding me and felt myself become enveloped by the space.  Pushing out anything negative and harmful just for that moment.  It was so important that all the miles we had traveled to get there turn out something healing and peaceful for me if just for that moment.

Sometimes there is a fear of letting go of that focus, like taking our eyes off a boiling pot.  "If something happens and my guard isn't up, I'll be wounded" or "If I don't try to figure this out or prepare I will be left feeling helpless or stupid."  But it is impossible to be prepared for everything, and hyper-vigilance is hardly the answer.  Part of what was going on was simple, really - my husband's disease is progressing and, as my sponsor wisely pointed out, the withdrawal is progressing as well.  He couldn't have his drink when he wanted it (didn't want me to see that he had smuggled in liquor in his bag, perhaps) and so he was angry and on edge.  As for the rest of it - the specific How's and Why's - I can't figure it out, and shouldn't keep trying to.  It's futile and really just not my job, not my deal.  In fact, one of the sayings in both AA and Al Anon is "Figuring it out isn't one of the steps."  So I'm off the hook there.

The rest of the trip I was able to (mostly) enjoy myself, even the good, sweet moments with my husband, which was great.  I like to think it's because I was able to just stop obsessing about what's going on in his head and do the next right thing.  Which was look out the window on our drive, and watch the scenery go by, soaking it all in and living through my OWN experience and feelings.  Here's hoping I can keep on doing that.