Until Al-Anon, I knew only chaos and mistrust

If I had the power to take an eraser to my life, I would erase nearly all of it, with few exceptions.

I grew up not being able to trust that even my most basic needs would be met.

I am an only child who learned at a very early age not to go to my parents with any need, even at about five years old when I tried to eat liquid cleaner. No matter how much it burned, I kept my mouth closed and did not cry. Crying would have only brought punishment.

My father would send me to fetch his beers for him and chuckled when I drank some too. My parents yelled at me often and fought with each other. I was the counselor between them, trying to keep the peace.

One day, my father left for a two-week fishing trip and did not come home. My mother had dropped out of high school and could barely support a 15 year-old girl. She began drinking, hanging out in bars, and bringing different men into our lives. Some abused her.

She often hit me, until I threatened to do her harm if she ever hit me again. I was 17 then. My mother’s favorite phrase to throw at me was, “I should have aborted you!” I swore to myself that I would never bring into the world a child that I didn’t want.

Both my parents had had dysfunctional upbringings; they applied their childhood experiences to their parenting. I was the result: an adult child of alcoholics who tried to be responsible for everyone else’s shortcomings and was afraid of people. I stuffed all of the pain and shame deep inside myself and told myself I was raised in a normal family. No matter what the situation was, I was always the problem. I stopped believing in God.

I didn’t realize how dysfunctional I was until I was an adult with virtually no life skills and had married someone equally dysfunctional. My husband readily blamed me whenever a problem surfaced, and I would agree with him. I went from counselor to counselor but could never get off the merry-go-round of depression, believing I had no value as a human being.

One counselor recommended I attend Al-Anon, and I thought he was off his rocker. I couldn’t admit to myself that alcohol had played a part. Sure, both my parents drank, but they weren’t hooked on alcohol. I told myself they couldn’t have been alcoholics; most of what they did to me happened when they were sober. Though my mother often drank away her sorrows after my father abandoned us, I didn’t recall ever seeing him drunk. I told myself I didn’t belong in Al-Anon.

After the birth of my first child, repressed memories surfaced at inopportune moments. Each memory brought me down further, reopening wounds that required more grieving. I lacked the skills to handle it all.

My six-year-old son was pounding his fists into me, taking all of his frustrations out on me, and I said to myself, “I can’t do this!” Then my husband refused to be involved with my son’s therapy, and he blamed me for the problems. Only then was I able to turn to Al-Anon and find sanity.

Through Al-Anon, I found people who shared things in their own lives that uncannily mirrored my own experiences. Even though I was too afraid to speak out during meetings, members greeted me, made me welcome, and reached out to me. Through Al-Anon, I have found true friendships.

When I can’t make it to one meeting, I can find another. When I can’t get to any meetings, The Forum provides me with a link to keep working the program. I have learned that I don’t have to be perfect, and I don’t have to be everyone’s doormat.

Through the first three Steps, I have found sanity and the ability to stand up for myself, even if it could mean that my husband chooses to leave me. I am more able to discern what I can change and am finally able to release to God the things I can’t change. I have found faith in God, who cares about me.

Reprinted with permission of The Forum, Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc. (external Al-Anon link), Virginia Beach, VA.
© Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc. 2009. All Rights Reserved.