The following articles from the January 2009 issue are reprinted with permission of The Forum,
Al-Anon Family Group Hdqs., Inc., Virginia Beach, VA. For more articles, check The
Forum archive.
From:
Features (pp 6-7)
The first three Steps: key to feeling better
By Tamara O., Missouri
While I was looking at the Twelve Steps on the wall at my meeting, I was suddenly aware of the words "admit," "believe," and "decide."
Step One tells me to admit I am powerless over alcohol and that my life is unmanageable. Admit it— that's a big step. To admit I am powerless is to admit that I don't have control and that can be frightening to me. As the adult child of an alcoholic I want to fix things for everyone, but if I don't control it, how can I fix it?
This Step brought such relief to me. My life was a wreck. I had seen many counselors and read all the self-help books. I had been unable to change the alcoholic, my situation, or myself. When I realized that I can't control it, I realized I didn't cause it either.
Step Two tells me to believe that a Power greater than myself can restore me to sanity. This brought me hope. I had tried so many ways to fix this problem and had gotten nowhere. I was an emotional, physical, and spiritual wreck trying to find a solution to the behavior.
Finally something more powerful than I am would work on this problem along side of me. I now had a chance of restoring my sanity and bringing peace into my life. I stopped looking to the alcoholic for peace of mind.
Step Three asks me to decide to turn my will over to God as I know Him. I have a choice. I can keep doing what I have been doing or I can give up the self-will to control things, fix things, and have things my way. God's will might not be mine. I have to accept this reality and turn it all over to God.
When my will is God's will, it is easy to turn things over. The hard part is making the decision to turn my will over to God and accept the circumstances as they are.
I am getting better at working these first three Steps. There are times when I feel weak, weepy, or worried about my life. When those feelings come to my attention, I remember to admit, believe, and decide. Then I always feel better.
From: Alateen (pp 14-15)
One Alateen conference changed my life
By Lorraine, New York
I didn't believe it when my mother first told me she was an alcoholic. My image of an "alcoholic" was an old man stumbling down the road in dirty clothes with a brown bag covering a bottle of something in his hand—the town drunk.
My mom told me she was going to A.A. One day, she approached me and said there was a place where teenagers could meet called Alateen. She asked if I wanted to go. I said "no."
One day my mom walked up to me and said, "I got you a scholarship to an Alateen conference and you're going. I don't know if you need a break from me or I need a break from you, but you're going!"
After packing, my mother drove me to a church and escorted me to a room in the basement. She gave me a hug and a look of reassurance. "You'll be alright!" she said and left.
In the room, I saw kids talking and smiling. Then it was time to start the meeting. Scared, I sat in a chair with a pole between these people and me, just in case something happened.
I found myself thinking these people were a little strange, and I really couldn't grasp the language they were all speaking. After the meeting, we held hands, said a prayer, and put away our chairs.
I didn't say much because I felt nervous. Everyone seemed very kind and acted pleasant to each other and tome.
When we arrived at the member's house, each of us was given our own bed. Mine was really comfortable, and I felt more relaxed. I slept well, and morning came quickly.
At the convention the next morning we sang songs and heard stories about "cold pricklies" and "warm fuzzies."
There were different meetings we could choose to attend. It was my choice—no one told me what I had to do. That weekend, I got a crash course in Alateen.
I made tons of friends, felt safe, talked to peers who had the same problems, and found out that I was not alone. Until then I had been isolating myself from the world. I learned so much about alcoholism.
After the closing meeting, hugs were given, t-shirts were signed, and phone numbers were exchanged. A lot of weight was lifted. Many long-lasting friendships were made.
I felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Hope was not lost. It had just begun.
From: My Story (pp 18-20)
Escaping the attraction of abusive alcoholics:
How I got better
By Marcia H., Tennessee
In the backwoods culture of the East Tennessee Mountains, there were two groups of people: The respected members of the community worked hard, kept vigil over their homes, and attended church every Sunday. The others were the poor souls bound for hell and damnation, lost to the rot and ruin of corn liquor and sinful living.
Looking back, I'm pretty sure the dividing line between the two groups was determined by who was best at keeping secrets. My family's secrets were well-kept.
I have pleasant memories of growing up. My dad worked hard all week, wrote songs, played his guitar, and sang with the choir on Sunday. We marched off to church, me happy in my youthful ignorance and Mom with her daily dose of pills, following Dad's leadership respectfully.
I just knew I would have the perfect life. I couldn't wait to grow up.
Before I left high school, our school bus driver convinced me to marry him. I wanted to move to the city, have my own life, and live the perfect dream. He was the answer I had been looking for.
The marriage failed after 20 years and two children. Nothing had prepared me for the shock of losing my husband to another woman. I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt
and shame. I tried to fight for myself. After all, he was the one who had done wrong. I had been perfect.
After the divorce, he got the other woman and I got the cold reality of no income. I learned to survive.
I turned my house into a seasonal restaurant for tourists who thought of our mountains as a vacation paradise. I made money serving home-cooked food and smiling until my face ached. I was too busy to notice the pain.
One day my rescuer came walking in the door. I took one look at that charmer and knew I could turn him into the man of my dreams.
He told me how sexy I was. Life was going to work out after all! We were married.
Seven years later I was running for my life. The beatings and bruising turned into chasing after me with a loaded gun and threatening to burn my house down if I even looked at another man. I never knew what would set him off.
After he calmed down, I'd get flowers.
My obsession became "whatever it took" to make the man happy. I started following him around, watching him flirt with other women, kissing them right in my face. If I said anything, I'd get another beating.
One night I was staring at my rage-filled face in the mirror; I didn't recognize myself. I had lost my mind, fighting with him and pulling his hair.
The law officers advised me to leave before he killed me. I packed a few things and headed west. My hard work, my restaurant, my life, my burned-out home—it was all gone and I was broke.
A good friend suggested I attend some Al-Anon meetings. She had seen my black-and-blue body, my shame, and my pain.
I took her suggestion to heart and walked into a group of complete strangers who helped me turn my life around.
After attending three meetings a week and crying my way back to some semblance of sanity, I decided I could go home. My life was in shambles, but I finally had some self-respect, courage, and hope.
My husband had divorced me and married someone else. At least that was in my favor.
I knew I could handle my life now. But it took yet another dance with a charming abuser to teach me to stop blaming the alcoholics and turn my attention to why I kept repeating the same life lesson.
In working my Fourth Step, I've been facing the long-kept secrets of my family tree. A few brave family members are willing to drag the skeletons out of the closet for the benefit of truth and understanding.
It's a painful journey for me. I'm working it out as best as I can.
Every day I'm up early reading my Conference Approved Literature, finding more truths about myself, and learning to accept myself and my journey without guilt or shame. I'm finding my way. I'm no longer trying to play God in anyone's life, certainly not my own.
Today, I have a one-day-at-a-time goal—serenity and peace, not so much drama and excitement.
I've been a grateful member of Al-Anon for 13 years now. I belong with people who enrich and encourage my life.
I have finally found the missing links in the spiritual foundation of my life: my Higher Power and the love of my Al-Anon family.