The Forum magazine articles - September 2008

The following articles from the September 2008 issue are reprinted with permission of The Forum, Al-Anon Family Group Hdqs., Inc., Virginia Beach, VA.  For more articles, check The Forum archive.

I walked into my first Al-Anon meeting after my boyfriend had his first relapse. Tears that hadn't stopped in days were running down my face. I wasn't wearing makeup and my hair was tied back just to keep it out of my face. I brought my boyfriend's Sponsor with me, a longtimer who had more than 20 years of sobriety under his belt. He was the only person I could think of to call for help; he showed me Al-Anon. I remember walking into the room knowing that these people were going to tell me what I needed to do to help my alcoholic boyfriend get back on track. I shared what had happened: he picked up drinking again after being sober for two and a half years and was now in jail. I waited for someone, anyone, to tell me their secret since they all were either nodding their heads or smiling. One lady turned to me and said, "Keep Coming Back." Another person said, "Welcome." What was going on? Why wouldn't they tell me what to do? I sat there crying even harder. My boyfriend's Sponsor didn't say anything; he just patted my back as I was doubled over in pain and confusion. Why were these people not telling me how to fix the problem? Couldn't they see my pain? Didn't anyone care? I got angry. I stood up and proceeded to let everyone know that I thought they were mean and hateful people for "keeping" their little "secret" to themselves, apparently thinking I wasn't worth knowing it. Once I had given everyone in the room a piece of my mind, including my boyfriend's Sponsor, I stormed out determined to fix my alcoholic boyfriend without their help. I spent the next four years going to open A.A. meetings, learning the Steps, and reading everything I could about alcoholism and addiction. I talked to men and women in recovery and listened to their stories. I became somewhat of an expert on this horrible, destructive disease that was eating up my soul. During this time two things happened. My boyfriend and I got married, and he had six more relapses. By the time I came back to Al-Anon, I was so broken and empty—all I could do to go on was breathe. I was dead inside, and no one could see it. I had no hope, no joy, no feeling of self-worth. I was drained and tired. I had tried to "fix" the alcoholic only to destroy myself in the process. I walked into my second Al-Anon meeting not so much with the hope of help but with the fear of not getting it. I walked in prepared to kill myself and had the means to do so. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew that I couldn't continue living in this pain anymore. Something in the back of my mind kept telling me that if A.A. works for them, Al-Anon could really work for me. I didn't yell at anyone; I didn't double up in pain and confusion, I just sat there crying and listening. Some of it I could relate to, some I couldn't. Then I heard someone say that "I" didn't cause it, "I" can't cure it, and "I" can't control it. All of sudden this huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. It wasn't my fault! A very small glimmer of hope started to form in my mind, and I wanted more. I went to that meeting wanting to rid my life of this agonizing feeling but left wanting to come back. Over the next several months I went to meetings every week, bought and read literature, talked with others, found a Sponsor, and got into service work. In the beginning words couldn't describe the pain I was in. Now words can't describe the peace I'm in. My worst day in Al-Anon far outweighs my best day without it. Today, I understand serenity, I appreciate suggestions, and I have hope. I've accepted the alcoholic for who he is because now I know who I am.

I thought if I could keep my teenage son away from his "bad" friends, he would come to his senses and stop drinking and drugging. I spent years of my life trying to rescue him from his poor choices. It was like he was walking toward a deep, dark chasm, and I was trying to stop him from falling in, but he kept pushing me aside so he could go down. I eavesdropped on his conversations, grounded him from everything, and trailed him day and night. Nothing helped. I was so very, very tired. I lost weight and was barely hanging on to my job. I didn't enjoy life anymore; I stayed away from friends because I didn't want them to ask about my son. I was determined to reason with him. My obsession was full-blown. Late one night—I rarely slept anymore—I saw a car pull up to the driveway with its lights out. Out of the shadows, I saw my son approach. I darted out the door to stop him from leaving. Seeing me, he jumped in the car, and they sped off with me running full-speed, screaming and waving at them to stop, dressed only in my nightgown. Since I neglected to put on my glasses, I didn't have a license plate number to call the police. I knew who he was with by the color of the car. He would be gone for a few days and would return when the money ran out. This scene, and many like it, was insanely repeated over and over again. After my son was in a treatment center, they suggested I go to Al-Anon meetings. I attended several. Each one I liked a little more; there was such warmth and serenity. I finally found a place where I could rest and rejuvenate. I felt the love at each meeting, even with complete strangers, because we have a common bond—living with the effects of alcoholism. My son did not stay in A.A., but that was his choice to make. He moved to his own place when he turned 18. We keep in touch and have a very healthy relationship. I have attended meetings for more than two years now. I have a Sponsor and read Al-Anon literature daily. I am very proud of the progress I have made. I have discovered the real me through the Twelve Steps. I have also learned to love my son unconditionally. Last week he called to see if he and his friend could come over and watch a ballgame with the family. He sounded fine, so I said okay. We cooked, played pool, watched TV, and played baseball. When it was finally time to go, my son and his friend said their goodbyes with hugs and kisses. As they pulled out of the driveway, I noticed a cell phone on the couch. I grabbed it and ran full speed out the door and after the car, down the street, waving and screaming for them to stop. They got out to see what I wanted and burst into laughter at the "deja vu" of the situation. At least this time I didn't chase them in my nightgown.