“I am writing my life story with every single today.”
~ Courage to Change, page 3
My Story
I love life. I find it adventurous and delightful. I enjoy people and solitude, music and photography, and I thrive in the outdoors. I am fairly quiet. When I’m new in a group, it’s more comfortable for me to watch than to take part. My huge high school didn’t help me come out of my shell. Neither did our frequent moves. But my family was stable. I grew up as the oldest child in a safe, protected environment and in a family of faith. For whatever reason, faith in a loving, shepherding God comes easily and naturally for me.
I married (at 26) an insightful, smart, sensitive man, a man I’d dated eight years. When we met, freshman year at a tiny private Christian college in Kansas, he intrigued me: football captain, popular, strong and attractive, a talented writer. What could he possibly see in me?? Yet he sought me out, and I liked the attention. We connected easily and shared many interests. We would go on long walks through the farmland, enjoying the serenity of the countryside, sharing our experience and our interests. These were wonderful days.
The difficult part for me to relate to was his history of addiction – starting In his early teens. This was entirely outside my realm of experience, but he was able to describe what this had been like for him and how it had affected his family of origin. Even though the days of active alcoholism were behind them, they seemed to me like a family of strangers under one roof. This was a new and unfamiliar territory; it felt uncertain…wobbly…fragile.
He was experiencing a spiritual awakening, which is how he landed at a small Christian college. I was experiencing a revival of my own, talking openly about faith in ways that mattered to me. This added to the strong spiritual connection. We dated my freshman year and became engaged during my sophomore year. It was all very exciting and deeply rewarding.
But then something changed. He dropped out, spent time with old friends. Began talking about drug-induced insights. Seemed forgetful. Wasn’t connecting. I transferred to a state university and got a teaching degree. We continue to date, but things had changed: we weren’t close like we had been. We drifted apart and lost touch for a number of years. As a new teacher, I had my hands full, learning how to teach, how to manage a classroom full of rambunctious learners, and leading music in a singles group at my church. Life was busy and full.
Then, out of the blue one spring day, I received a letter: he’d grown, found a supportive group of friends, become a leader in a church community, and found stability. We arranged to meet for dinner and catch up. I remember thinking, “if this were someone new, I’d want to pursue this relationship.” It was a big decision, knowing we’d been engaged previously. That spring, we decided to pick up where we’d left off, and that summer we married.
We made it 29 years. There were rocky times, of course, but really good times too. We raised two beautiful girls. Those years draw forth warm memories: camping and ski trips, swim meets and school activities. We took getaways to Northern California with just the two of us, and family trips to San Diego and then to Europe multiple times. Since his work involved travel, we enjoyed boatloads of inexpensive travel using points. He created a job that he loved, and I got to do things I wanted to do: raising kids, volunteering at school and church. When the kids were in elementary school, I began teaching and leading a large international ministry. That filled me with purpose. I loved that job.
What Was Happening?
I’m not sure when his relapse began. But around 2006, events started to confuse me. On a trip to visit family in Italy, he was highly agitated. It seemed to me he resented the family time, wanting to spend the days in the executive lounge. I felt torn between wanting to be with family and wanting to honor his needs to be alone. I didn’t understand what was happening. It was a hard trip.
Over the next few years, he was amiable, but I was surprised to see him drinking a lot. I remember thinking, “I can’t really imagine you being happy without three to four drinks in you.” I’d deal with it for awhile, then muster my courage and ask him to cut back. I was convinced that since he loved me, he’d see this was having a negative effect on me. Of course, that would fix this little glitch.
But it didn’t. I could see his anxiety levels rising and his confidence diminishing. I tried to talk with him about it, but he wasn’t open. “Things aren’t going well at work,” he’d expain. And that would be the end of it. I felt like he was shutting down and there was nothing I could do to help.
In September of 2010, the proverbial other shoe dropped: his department at work was shut down and he was laid off. It took 9 months for the next job arrived, and it took only two weeks into that new job for me to see that we were in deep trouble. Dropping him at the airport, he’d seem fearful; he’d call saying he’d made it through security. This unsettled me; he’s a seasoned traveler. I’d not seen this behavior before. What was happening???
By 2011, the anxiety was out of control. He agreed to see a doctor, and I felt this would fix everything. At first he seemed better, but it became clear pretty quickly that we had a lethal combination of medication, alcohol, and a string of bad job experiences. Over the next two years, our situation rapidly deteriorated. I remember being so angry and scared, asking him to try AA, or get a counselor. He’d try, but these did not resonate with him. I cannot imagine how this must have felt to him. For me, trying to keep appearances with friends while waiting for the man I knew to return felt exhausting and terrifying.
Who is this stranger in my house?? Unfamiliar behavior scared me; I became alarmed and reactive.
At times his familiar personality would emerge, and I’d be so relieved. I’d think, “The worst is behind us and we can go back to normal.” But things weren’t returning to normal; the disease was growing in strength, and when it surfaced, he’d be hostile and distant. His words to me felt critical, and I felt somehow I was to blame.
And Who Was I Becoming?
My life spiraled out of control: growing resentment as I counted his drinks when we were with friends,
gripping fear as I reached over to stabilize the steering wheel to keep the car from drifting lanes on the snowy freeway. Immense anger that asking for the keys so I could drive brought a Christmas day of no interaction at all – as if this request was unfathomable.
I began having panic attacks and I couldn’t control them; they surfaced at the most inopportune times. What was happening?? Clearly my emotions were broken. Not only that, but dark thoughts began spiraling out of control and I was unable to stop them. Trying to manage my anxiety, my screaming emotions, and darkening thoughts became a full time challenge. I was a mess.
How Help Came…
By the grace of God two events happened, bringing me out of denial and into awareness that we had a situation needing faced.
One afternoon, I walked into the yard. He was stirring paint, kneeling on the back lawn. He replaced the lid, and we sat down at the patio table to catch up on the day. I asked what he was painting. He said, “I don’t know why that paint is out here; no one‘s touched it for a really long time.”
I feel surreal, ungrounded, overwhelmed and frustrated. “But you were just stirring that paint!” I said. “No,” he replied, “that’s been out here a long time.” I stand, walk to the stir stick and swipe my finger across, showing it is wet with paint. “This is really troubling!” I said. He replies, “Yeah, it is.”
This is a cunning, baffling disease; I spent so much time confused. I suspected blackouts – it seemed they had been happening – but I hadn’t seen it so clearly before. I didn’t know what to do; I felt sick and scared and confused and so very worried.
The second event was dinner and a movie with friends. The meeting time – 6:00 pm – came and went but he wasn’t home. Once again, the dilemma: Do I leave and go on my own? Should I wait? Should I cancel? I had just decided to go on my own when he arrived, willing to go, but clearly impaired. I’d been talking with my counselor about not getting into the car with him when he’d been drinking, but wasn’t strong enough yet. I got in the car, emotions screaming, but said nothing as he wandered aimlessly through the neighborhoods. It was a two-mile drive and he was lost.
I felt paralyzed to take care of myself in the most basic of ways. I got into the car with an inebriated driver. I was completely unable to speak up. I was fearful all the time. I was obsessed with someone else’s behavior and completely ignoring my own.
The evening did not go well. At one point he left the theater and did not return. I didn’t know how to proceed. “Do you think he went home?” my friends asked. I said, “I don’t think he would leave me.” But by then, I didn’t know.
It took events like these for me to realize this challenge was bigger than me; I needed help. I was trying to fix a situation that could not be fixed – at least by me. I knew the time had come for me to accept the things I could not change and to learn how to change my own responses. I needed humility to quit playing God, as if I knew the path someone else should take. I needed to quit trying to change someone else so that I could be happy.
Al-anon and a Sponsor
Al-anon (support group for friends and family) and a sponsor became lights from God. Finally I found people who could relate. People who had navigated more than I had and yet seemed reasonable, peaceful and sane – even as they talked about very challenging events and circumstances. I wanted what they had! In fact, the first time I mustered the courage to share at a meeting, I said, “I don’t know what it is you all have, but I’m going to stick around until I find it!”
It took five months before I was bold enough to ask someone to sponsor me. One day an old friend walked into a meeting, and I thought maybe I could ask her. It was a great fit. We met ever other week for a solid year, working the steps together. I grabbed hold of this work like a lifeline. I learned a few things…
What I Learned
I learned that I didn’t know how to take care of myself emotionally. I had no idea that I was trying to force another person to change so that I could be happy. What I needed to discover – and it seem to take so long for me to discover this – is that in order find serenity, I needed to change. I needed to let time take time, and I needed to let change develop slowly and painfully as I tried on new responses…one step at a time, one day at a time.
I kept hoping that he would wake up to his need for recovery. This did not happen; he was not ready. And I learned to let that be okay….that I could give him the dignity and the time he needed. I don’t control his journey.
Identifying My Own Needs
But at the same time, I realized, through trial and error, that I require a sober environment if I am to thrive. I learned that my serenity is my responsibility, and I could make changes that would stabilize me. At the same time, I could give my loved one the dignity of figuring out his own issues without my constant input. It would be better for us all.
I learned about boundaries and keeping myself emotionally safe. I learned about detachment – that to keep from being beat up emotionally, I needed to get to safer ground. One mentor suggested I practice spending time away. “Go stay with your parents for a weekend; see how that feels.” Through weekends away, I discovered that life becomes stable when we cease trying to forcefully control. I was trying to live another person’s life for him, and this doesn’t work. I don’t have a drinking problem, but I had a problem with someone else’s drinking, and this needed addressed.
Giving Others Dignity
Al Anon provided tangible help. I distinctly remember the meeting where I felt God say to me: “This is your life boat; get in.”
“What about my husband??” I wanted to know. God’s response was very clear, right there in the middle of a meeting (as though we were having a side conversation): “He has a lifeboat, and it is not you. Get in!”
The speaker shared: “I picture it like this – there’s a boat on the current of my Higher Power’s will; I’m gonna get in the boat see where goes.” That was my deciding moment. I’m going to do that too.
Only the Truth Will Do
I have learned so much! My sponsor helped me see that “keeping up appearances” is not honest, and it doesn’t ultimately work. Only the truth will do. This was hard, because I knew, somewhere deep inside, that the house of cards was about fall. And little by little, I became willing to let it fall. It has fallen; the marriage couldn’t withstand the onslaught.
Grace in the Rubble
But I’ve learned something surprising: the end of a marriage is not the end of the story. There is grace in the rubble.
I’ve learned tools. My kids are learning tools. There’s a new openness between my daughters and I that wasn’t there before. I leave open the possibility that God can bring healing to both my ex-husband and to me when we give Him space to work. We don’t have a lot of contact, but from what I can see, he’s making progress too, and in his own time frame. I think we are both relieved that I am no longer trying to control what that looks like.
“The primary purpose of a family is to create a safe environment to grow and share life together.”
~ Reaching for Personal Freedom (111)
Through the tools of Al-anon, I became strong enough to make difficult decisions, and these became my part in allowing each family member the possibility of finding safer ground. I realized that for many years, my stubborn refusal to consider divorce contributed to a complicated, unsafe family environment. Now, the divorce has open the possibility for each family member to consider what is healthy and “What is my part?” Everyone is growing. In my meetings, I hear weekly, “The family situation is bound to improve…” I see improvement, though the outcome differs from what I would have chosen.
Through this one change in perspective, God is doing greater things than I ever could have done. My faith has increased, my humility has grown, and I’m maturing. That’s grace right there!
