The following articles from the February 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 (p 8)
I came to understand and accept my feelings
By Luis, Texas
Standing at five feet tall, I have a different perspective than folks who measure over six feet. I hardly ever see the top of my refrigerator. Intellectually, I know it's there, but unlike my taller friends, I don't normally see those higher places in my kitchen.
In the same way, I have a stunted perspective on my feelings. I grew up in an alcoholic home. Not surprisingly, my alcoholic parent almost never expressed joy, wonder, and awe. I did not feel safe exploring those emotions. I knew I had these feelings somewhere deep inside me, but I could not identify them, let alone feel them.
Before corning to Al-Anon, when people outside my family expressed joy and wonder, I retracted emotionally. My underdeveloped emotional vocabulary was confined to sadness, anger, resentment, and self-pity—feelings that were okay to have in my family.
Just like being unable to see the top of my refrigerator, I had access only to a few emotions even though I knew there were more. I finally learned to use a stepladder when I wanted access to the top of the fridge.
The Al-Anon program is like a stepladder for me emotionally. If I want to be capable of experiencing joy, wonder, and awe, I have to work my program on a daily basis by attending meetings, reading Conference Approved Literature, and, most importantly, staying in contact with my Higher Power.
My years in Al-Anon have helped me identify emotions I knew existed but I was incapable of feeling. I'm no longer afraid to feel my feelings. I know they cannot hurt me.
I am entitled to my feelings without shame or justification. I can chose to let go of my alcoholic parent's emotional ways and grow spiritually.
A wonderful by-product of "standing on my emotional stepladder" is the support and friendship I get from my Al-Anon family. My Al-Anon family stands with me, helps me reach new heights of recovery, props me up when I falter, and shares in my victories.
I will never grow in physical height, but the sky is the limit for my emotional growth.
From: My Story (pp 10-12)
Overcoming my inner emptiness
By Jennifer M., Washington
My first memory of drunken violence was when I was five years old. My mothers screams woke me up in the middle of the night.
There was a bad storm—lots of wind, rain, and lightening. I sat up in bed, frozen, unable to move as I listened to my mother screaming and furniture being overturned.
I wanted to protect her, but he was a very big man and I was a little girl. Long after I understood there was nothing I could have done, I still felt guilty that I sat in my bed with the covers pulled up around me and stayed frozen like a little statue until it quieted down.
The next morning my mother didn't go to work; she had two black eyes. Dad sat on the edge of the bed with her and held her hand.
Nothing was said about it, and I knew better than to ask any questions. There were several similar situations like that over the years.
My parents provided a good home, with plenty of food on the table. My father taught us the difference between right and wrong, perhaps not always by example but by removing his belt and snapping it to put fear in us.
What was absent in our home was a feeling that we were safe, protected, and loved. There was little or no emotional connection between parent and child. I felt invisible and insignificant to the parents I loved and trusted more than anyone else in the world.
That's why I believe I didn't marry an alcoholic by accident. I was prewired to do so. Most people I knew drank the way my husband did. It was "normal" to me.
Of course, I didn't realize that I knew nothing about what normal was. All I knew is that I felt like I had this big, empty hole inside of me. I thought it would go away if I got married—but it didn't.
Then I thought it would go away if I had a baby. But I still felt empty inside even after I had a beautiful, healthy baby girl.
After 13 years of marriage, my husband went to detox for five days and an outpatient program for six months. I thought everything would be just fine as long as he didn't drink again! We had another child, a beautiful baby boy.
I went to Al-Anon meetings every week because a counselor from my husband's outpatient program looked me square in the eye and said, "Go to Al-Anon." I did what I was told to do, but I did it with an enormous amount of resentment—because he had a problem, not me.
I avoided speaking and never made eye contact with anyone. I ran as soon as the dreaded meeting was over.
Many times I thought about taking my own life. I came close only once—I had a loaded .357 Magnum in my hand. I quietly put it down, went into the bathroom, and vomited. It's only by the grace of my Higher Power that I didn't pull the trigger.
I hated myself but I didn't know why. For most of my marriage, it seemed that liquor was far more important to my husband than I was.
After three years of sobriety, my husband relapsed. Every few months he would drink; although he hid it well, I always knew. I would confront him. He would deny it but he would stop. A few months later we would go through the same thing.
We did this "dance" for seven years. By that time, I had stopped loving him. I could no longer distinguish the man from the disease. They had become one.
I got much-needed support at meetings, but more important, something changed inside me. Finally, I became committed to my own recovery for the first time. I was giving up my self-will, and truly turning it over.
I learned what "gut-level" honesty is about. That helped me to see who I am, and who I wanted to be.
I have forgiven my children's father who perfectly re-created my childhood for me every day of our marriage. Even now I gravitate toward people who can't be there for me. What's different today is that I recognize this tendency, and I'm better able to protect myself.
Today I can acknowledge that I'm a damaged but lovable, decent human being. I take delight in being able to say that about myself. I believe I can have serenity not in spite of my wounds, but because of them.
My journey of recovery will not end until I'm called home. In the meantime, what a wonderful thing it is to be able to see, hear, think, feel, love, laugh, hurt, cry, and learn whatever lessons for which I'm ready.
From: Inside Al-Anon Family Groups (pp 14-15)
Face-to-face communication is most effective
By Marsha W., Associate Director--International
As people, we communicate in various ways. I believe that face-to-face communication is most effective to experience growth and hope at all levels of personal recovery and Al-Anon service.
As a new member in the fellowship, I came to appreciate the power of members' sharing at meetings. Although I did not understand why, I realized I felt better in a face-to-face setting.
As my recovery strengthened, my Sponsor advised that I would grow even more when I began giving away what I learned. After agreeing to sponsor someone, I realized I had learned, through meetings and spending time with my Sponsor, to recognize growth and hope.
I remembered that this experience in the program strengthens Al-Anon as a whole while listening during a recent international service meeting.
During a discussion following the general session topic, "Strengthening Our Understanding at Every Level of Service," at the 14th International Al-Anon General Services Meeting (IAGSM), one Delegate shared that in order to achieve a strong understanding at all service levels, her service structure discovered they needed active participation of Regional Trustees and the General Secretary at all Assemblies and meetings—like WSO has done around the world.
"Face-to-face is a warm way to strengthen our fellowship. We need to be near!" she exclaimed.
Another Delegate advised that the key words for her in exploring this topic were the words "at every level."
She indicated it was easy for her to do service on a group, district, or Area level. However, she explained that the more she commits to service, which widens her understanding, the more communication is required of her while she works with others in Al-Anon service.
She expressed that although more communication is fearful for her, learning to communicate with others is a tool that has helped to lessen fear.
After a report back on the workshop topic "Communication: Our Key to Understanding," one participant responded, "If we have done a good job in communicating when people decide to become involved in service, they should hear 'we will help and support you."'
I pondered that comment as I remembered the planning that occurs in the organization of the IAGSM.
Although the International Coordination Committee (ICC), based on input given by the General Service Offices and IAGSM Delegates, has the responsibility of planning the agenda, it is the Delegates' presentations and discussions that bring life and clarity to the topics. It is the ICC's job to give support and help through planning.
Against our serene backdrop in Helsinki, Finland I had the honor of witnessing the growth and hope of worldwide Al-Anon.