Childhood

Growing up with parents who were emotionally unavailable due to separation, drinking, depression, whatever, taught me that I was not important enough to warrant their attention. If only I was a better little girl, a better student, a better sister, maybe I would be worthy. Alas, nothing I did made an impression until as a teenager I began to act out in ways that they deemed inappropriate. A little sex at an early age sure can get a parents attention. And how about skipping school and a few illegal drugs? Boy, that will get a rise out of them!
I came away from my childhood with an unconscious knowledge that I had to act in ways that were a little left of the acceptable norm to be noticed. I am not sure to this day if my radical tendencies are a true part of my inborn nature, or a tragic attempt to be noticed. My search for serenity and recovery requires me to get to the root of my motives. A wise woman told me recently that it is possible to hide a bad motive under a good one.

Barn

My barn really did burn down. That's it in the picture. I called the fire department, then pulled out my camera. You don't ever want to miss a good scrap booking opportunity. It was a freezing cold night and my husband turned on a heat lamp for the chickens. In a matter of minutes the 80 year old building was engulfed in flames. Amazingly, one of the hens survived, huddling outside in the snow. I suspect she was guilty of homicide, maybe using her little beak to chew through the wire holding the lamp up, fleeing the scene of the crime and leaving her flock mates to roast in the inferno. We sent her to live with my sister-in-law's flock, where she met her demise at the hands and teeth of a raccoon a few months later. What goes around comes around...

Detachment

Detaching from an alcoholic/addict spouse is not easy. First of all, you are legally bound together. If there are children, the complications multiply tenfold. In my previous marriage, my fantasies of detachment usually went something like this: I said "til death do us part", so someone has to die, and it's not going to be me. The logical conclusion to this was murder. Thankfully, I never followed this line of reasoning to it's disastrous conclusion. I used to fantasize about the many ways he might die. A fiery automobile crash on a dark night. A short but painful illness. You get the picture. This was not very smart on my part since he had no life insurance and I would have been left with four children and no visible means of earning a living. I was complaining about him at an Al-Anon meeting early in my recovery. I said "he doesn't eat right, he drinks and smokes too much, how long can he possibly live?" A wise woman said "A long fucking time." Obviously I needed more meetings. When finally pushed to my limits, divorce was the only course of action that I was willing to take. I detached, but not with love. I detached with resentment, anger and malice.

Detaching from friends has been less problematic. I can listen to their trials and tribulations without feeling like I have to solve anything. I am able to offer support and loving suggestions, and not take it personally if they continue to make the same mistakes over and over again. If I do want to separate from a friend due to irreconcilable differences, I just don't answer the phone or return calls. Eventually the offending party stops calling and I am able to avoid confronting the issue head on. My alternate method of detaching from a friend or acquaintance is to emotionally distance myself. I have perfected several ways of accomplishing this. I don't really listen when they talk to me, don't make much eye contact, forget birthdays, make excuses about why I can't spend time with them, and more. Indifference seems to be the operative word in these situations.

The real paradox for me is this: The more I love someone, the less able I am to "detach with love". I love my children more than life itself. They are the most amazing people. Smart, funny, interesting. I want so badly for everything to be good and healthy and joyous for them. When they struggle with serious life issues, i.e. addiction, I become very afraid, which makes me feel powerless, then I become angry, which makes me feel powerful. My anger seems like a tool to force change. It never works, of course. My anger only alienates those that I love and erects an impenetrable wall between us. When I can stop myself from reacting with anger, when I can detach from the problem, not take it personally, I am able to lovingly listen and offer support. I always want to offer answers when what I really need to do is ask what they think their options are. Respect and loving detachment are amazing tools for healthy relationships. Why do I so frequently forget that?

Beginnings

My sponsor told my long ago that it is possible to work a great program if you are in a closet all by yourself, but invite some people or situations into your closet and all hell breaks loose. Well, there are some people and situations in my closet, and I am struggling.

My road of recovery has been long and circuitous. I repeatedly spiral around to the same issue - the inability to detach with love from the people I am closest to. I react with anger when I am afraid, and put up walls between myself and the ones I love the most.

I am entirely ready to surrender, to have this defect of character removed, but I know that until I really understand the reward for continuing to behave in this manner, I will not truly let go. I am determined to explore this and other issues that prevent me from living in harmony with my family and myself. I am programmed by genetics, upbringing, experience to behave in ways that do not serve me well. I am opening myself to the process of self discovery and recovery. Let the journey commence.