The following articles from the
March 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.
Following
directions: How Al-Anon helped me find my way
By Gene D., Alabama
Living on a cul-de-sac, I see many cars driving down my street only to turn around and go back. I watch in amusement, wondering how they miss the big yellow sign at the intersection that says: “Dead End.”
This behavior, I think, is a metaphor for my life. How many dead ends have I been down?
How many wrong turns have I made? How many signs have I ignored in my insanity, thinking there was light at the end of that tunnel?
Part of my problem was having no direction. I had no idea where I was going, or what I was looking for. I hoped I would recognize it when I found it.
Even if I had had a destination, I didn’t know have known how to get there. I didn’t have a map or a set of instructions telling me where to turn.
I did have this vague notion that I was seeking was some form of spirituality. Oddly, this spirituality did not involve any surrender of my will or control over my life.
When I arrived at Al-Anon, I was lost and tired of taking wrong turns.
Finally I arrived at a dead end. I discovered what I was looking for and what it looked like: spirituality that claimed there was a God—and He was not me. I was given a road map and a set of instructions called the Twelve Steps.
Someone volunteered to be my guide (my Sponsor) to help me read the map. Of course, the first thing I had to learn was that I was not the driver, but the wheel was under control of my Higher Power.
With these three—a Higher Power, the Twelve Steps, and a Sponsor—I am now in good hands.
Honesty begins with staying true to myself
By Marsha C., Oklahoma
Honesty, for me, has to begin with being true to myself, my perceptions, my beliefs, my values, and my reality.
Growing up in an alcoholic home, we would experience night rages followed by sunlight streaming in the kitchen window with breakfast cooking. I would wake up with the awful taste of the night before in my mouth—the fear, the anger, the hurt—and could not walk into that kitchen filled with warmth and pretense.
Somehow not addressing what had happened prevented me from being able to believe in the calm morning. I was torn between what I believed had happened, and the play that was performed before me. I bolted out the door, unwilling to join in the acting.
As much as I rebelled against the divergent extremes, I came to not trust what I saw or perceived—easily trading my reality for someone else’s take on it. I had no way of knowing that I was dealing with alcoholism—with its thick, heavy blanket of denial.
It has been a long journey to restore my own personal integrity. I still want to excuse someone else’s behavior, to wrap myself up in what I’ve come to see as “willful ignorance”— the ability to know something, yet suspend that knowledge rather than feel the deep feelings that knowing might invoke.
Today I can more easily hold on to my own personal truths. I am not swayed as easily by someone else’s take on things. When someone else tells me the sky is green, and I see a brilliant blue, I can hold on to what I see and allow them to have their own choice of color; both can be real. I cannot stay true to myself if I give up my brilliant blue.
I am responsible for my own honesty before God, myself, and others. As I work these Steps of recovery, I am asked to be kind and tolerant of others. I do not have to force my honesty on anyone.
I can only trust God to reveal to me what I need to see and do to live an authentic life. I am no longer responsible for what others say or do.
Celebrating anniversaries, making amends
By Anonymous, India
The disease of alcoholism brought my husband and me to a point where it became difficult to live together under one roof. We had been staying away from each other for the last ten months when we agreed to meet on the anniversary of our marriage. Together we paid obeisance at our holy place. He offered to drop me home. He had brought a bouquet for me. I received it and sat in his car. As the car moved, a brand new bottle of whiskey rolled into my feet.
In an instant, my sanity flew away. I left the bouquet, said some nasty words (I am very good at it), and left. He, too, reacted. He threw the flowers on the road, and drove away hurt and mad.
Soon I felt very uncomfortable. One look within myself and remorse gripped me. I had forgotten my First Step, had lashed at my husband, and had ruined the lovely moments God had given us. The awareness of the presence of the bottle had become more powerful than the presence of my Higher Power. This was my insanity, my disease.
I remembered having read somewhere, “Do not look where you’ve fallen, look at where you slipped,” and that I could “after a fall, pick myself up, dust myself off, and move on.” So I moved on “One Day at a Time.” Occasionally, I saw him at A.A. meetings.
I am fortunate that another anniversary came. I was given the opportunity to make amends. I took flowers to my husband. He had been ailing for quite some time.
As he opened the door, a look of pleasant surprise and moist eyes welcomed the flowers. I felt I was greeting the most important man in the world. We stood in a warm embrace and parted after we said the Serenity Prayer together. Those divine moments were my reward of the day.
I will not have any more “happy anniversaries,” for he passed away a month later. Thanks to the tools of this program, I could realize my part in the harms done.
Staying busy through service allows me to make the best of what I have. I feel grateful for the sharings and the literature that tells me I am not alone. The pain of having lost a loved one is intense, but regular attendance at meetings keeps reminding me that suffering is indeed optional.