Almost a year

Almost a year since I last posted.  A few months short. I shake my head.  I feel like crying. But I stuff that away.

My life is changing a lot.  My dad passed from lung cancer in May. I quit the Human Services field and searched out a career in a law firm again.  I am working for the government now.  As a receptionist/assistant.  I make more money than I did in Human Services.  My heart needed a break.

I have separated from my husband.  I am living in a basement suite and have my children 50% of the time.   I don't exercise.  I don't seem to have the time or the energy.  I was prescribed anti-depressants (again), but I won't take them.  I feel this is situational and doesn't require medication, but I am aware of my personal lows (and highs) and am staying on top of my self-care.

I am really trying to figure out what I can get out of life.  What I can extract and enjoy.  Life is short.  Life is precious. No doubt I have discovered we start and end this life alone.  We only have ourselves to account to.  Was I a good person? Did I do my best? Did I enjoy life? Did I do all I could?

Also, I am going through the 12 Steps (if you're unfamiliar - think AA) for codependency while also working on faith and what it means to me. I need to pray, I need a higher power, I need to surrender and I am transforming myself from the inside for now through this process.

Friends and family seem puzzled, or trepiditious on how to support me or understand me.  I have been a bit of a complex one to figure out, with two distinct sides to my personality and I have hidden a lot of myself from others.  I rarely reach out or ask for help, I often take on too much and too much of others' struggles/emotions.  I have carried shame and anger around and made it my defense for bad behaviour.  I have stretched myself to the limit to help others so I wouldn't have to help myself.

Much of this "hiddenness" was a learned behaviour. I have learned quite a bit about my past as my father deteriorated and then passed. Not much was addressed directly with him.  My last words with him did not even register as he was already in a coma.  I knew, all along, growing up, that my father was an alcoholic.  We hid it very well.  The whole family presented quite nicely to the world.  Educated parents. Smart precocious kids.  House. Cats. Groceries. Horses. Cars. Good life.  And what I've learned about addiction, co-dependency, children of alcoholics, etc. I was (for the most part) the one in the family acting out the knowledge that SOMETHING wasn't right.

We pretended really well, but I didn't.  I acted out.  I also became highly aware of other people's problems and was always seeking to solve them or to know them and console them. I can sense people's moods and I am a chameleon to situations or others needs.  This is highly indicative of a child of an alcoholic.  Families of alcoholics suffer in the disease as much as the addict him/herself.  We hide. We caretake. We feel shame.  We are on guard.  We fix.  We blame. We lie.

Here is an exceprt on ACOA:

Adult Children of Alcoholic's:

...guess at what normal is.
...have difficulty in following a project through from beginning to end.
...lie when it would be just as easy to tell the truth.
...judge themselves without mercy
...have difficulty having fun.
...take themselves very seriously.
...have difficulty with intimate relationships.
...overreact to changes over which they have no control.
...constantly seek approval and affirmation.
...feel that they are different from other people.
...are either super responsible or super irresponsible.
...are extremely loyal, even in the face of evidence that loyalty is undeserved.
...tend to lock themselves into a course of action without giving serious consideration to alternative behaviors or possible consequences. This impulsivity leads to confusion, self loathing, and loss of control of their environment. As a result, they spend tremendous amounts of time cleaning up the mess.

So there is so much for me to look at, and I can relate to most of those.  The big blow to my mind/heart came recently when my mother disclosed more about my father's past and helped me to come to terms with the fact that I was NOT crazy.  There WAS more to his addiction. And I feel, my dad was running, running away from all his pain, grief, shame, and completely unable to face it because he never could admit he had a problem.

And I started to repeat this process, this family history was running it's course through me.  Out of respect I won't get into details about my marriage on here.  That wouldn't be fair. But I will talk about my feelings.  I was unhappy.  I was lying to myself and to others.  I was ashamed.  I was showing my kids that you pretend things are OK even though they aren't.   The same message I was receiving as a child.

So when I moved out, when I finally found the strength to piece myself back together, people were in shock.  I am in shock.  But I am tired of asking for permission to live my own life.  I have thought long and hard about what this will do to my children.  My boys are OK.  They will be OK.  They will struggle, they will hurt, and THAT IS OK.  I cannot protect them from hurt - like my parents tried to protect me.  All that did was make me feel crazy, lost, and hurt more later.  The deal is - I can be there for them better now.  I can be a better mother because I can start healing myself and taking better care of them.  The arguing every day has stopped.  The stress and undercurrents have stopped.

During this time I have felt like I needed people, but was unable to ask for help.  Unable to be understood, or speak my truth.  I speak to God through prayer, I have found that when your Mom, understandably, can't be there because she is too close to the situation that surrogates will pop into your life (thank you God) and women will come surround you with love. I have been blessed with a friend who had the patience and a place to stay when I couldn't figure things out and needed time to clear my head.  I have been blessed by women offering to go for coffee, checking in on me.  I have been so fortunate.  Really I have been nothing short of awestruck how when you take the step off the edge - there is someone there to catch you.  It's called faith.

I still have an unfurnished suite.  The boys and I built their bunkbed and I bought them mattresses I really couldn't afford - but what's important is they have a place to sleep.  We eat sitting on the kitchen floor and laugh at ourselves for not having a table.  But we eat well.  We are warm at night.  We are OK.  We will get through this.

I will keep going.  I have no idea what the future brings but I am doing my best to live in the present.

Thanks for listening.