Loving Detachment

Are you ever too old to be a bridesmaid?  I'm not sure, but I was a bridesmaid yesterday for a young friend whom I've mentored over the past two years.  It was a lovely day of celebration and I danced my arse off at the reception. How fun to feel so energized again!

One of the questions I get asked often is "How do you draw boundaries, or remain in a relationship without condoning certain behaviors?"    This question can lead us down many rabbit trails, all leading to a healthy garden, so today I will take one part of the equation. I don't have all the answers - I just have my own experience and exposures to draw from. 

So much about recovery is finding balance in your world.  We enablers and codependents have been sitting so long on the down side of the teeter totter that we've come to believe or allow  that it's an all or nothing relationship.  And, we continually think it's all about us and what we can do to rescue our lost loved ones.  We can't balance the teeter totter this way, yet we continually say, "sure, I can do that" or "yes, you can leave it with me", or still "what can I do to help you change your life?"  

In Melody Beattie's book "Codependent No More" she opens 
Chapter 5, entitled "Detachment" with the following quote from an 
Al-Anon member: It (detachment) is not detaching from the person whom we care about, but from the agony of involvement.  WOWEE!! 

You mean to tell me we don't have to be involved in everything??? You are trying to tell me my addict/appendage does not have to be the object of my obsession??  Are you saying I can finally take a step back and stop trying to intercept every painful moment that belongs to my addict and not me?  Oh, thank you Lord, for permission to loosen my grip and let go!!!  

Sometimes in well meaning relationships between a substance abuser and their family, there are large amounts of confusion over who owns what.  The boundaries weren't clear before the addiction took root and then became even blurrier when the substance moved in lock, stock and barrel. 

By this time, we the enablers, have relinquished ourselves 
and our rights to allow anyone and everyone to trample on our feelings, our beliefs and our dreams.  Now, as we begin to step back and get a little breathing room, we struggle to put to rest all that we thought was true. 

And if you add your faith to the mix, sometimes we struggle to juggle all the different balls in the air and get them to land safely, softly and in love.  Sometimes we don't want to accept that maybe that dream we envision won't happen and it quite possibly isn't up to us to make it right. The Scripture says, "hate the sin, not the sinner". This can apply to all areas of our life.  

Taking care of "self" is not selfish. Detaching from those you love in addiction is not mean. It's not leaving them to die.  Loving with detachment means you are going to take care of self. Can you have one thought, one conversation or one day that doesn't tie you to your addict? Can you formulate a thought on paper or make a plan without dragging your appendage into it? Are you constantly shifting your finances around to "help" out your needy addict?  Do you have adult appendages? 

Look at your friendships. Hopefully those are healthy and you are not trying to control them.  If you had a friend that called you night and day, begged for money and hurled filthy language and accusations your way, how would you handle that? You would end it or certainly do a cut off with a clear call out on what was acceptable and unacceptable. 
Why then, do we allow our adult addicts to behave like an overgrown two year-old having tantrums? Are you throwing them pacifiers to quiet them down instead of letting them cry it out and feel their own pain? We must learn to step back from the unhealthy behavior that so easily entangles us.  Why do we think an active addict will behave like a healthy individual?  They can't and they won't.  Until they choose to get their addiction kicked, they will not change their behavior.  

The "thing" that I needed to finally take hold of when Cliff was in his addiction was that, by trying to manage his addiction by controlling where he was, worrying why he wasn't where he promised to be, fretting over money he promised to pay back and would not, was not going to change until I learned to let him go and learned to take care of me.  

So how can you love with detachment? Take your substance abuser out to eat once in a while. Have conversations about the music they love, the latest movie or TV program they enjoy. Get them a pair of shoes and socks if they need them. Don't give money, don't give gifts that can be returned for money, but spend a little time with them. Have some laughs with them! They are longing for you to see them beyond their junkie status. However, you call the shots. In love let them know what the rules are. Set the time and place and the amount of time you will give.  And if they don't show up, don't take it personally.  Always remember that your active addict is sick. They are incapable of keeping their word. 

For now. 

Celebrating Mom

"One of the first things that I remember about your Mother was that she was extremely bright" Aunt Pat said. "She missed a lot of school and I suspect it was because she didn't have the bus fare yet she was never behind in her work."   

 In honor of what would have been Mom's 82nd birthday,  I asked one of her dearest high school friends  if we could meet for lunch.  Aunt Pat always impressed me whenever we would see her because she was current on happenings and in great shape due to being an avid walker.  Instead, Aunt Pat offered an invitation for me to come to her home which I did and we sat and chatted a bit about Mom. When WWII broke out, Mom was sent to boarding school and while there her father re-enlisted in the Sea-bees and her mom left the state she lived in to go after work. Shortly after mom finished high school her parents divorced and her own mother was gone for 44 years and returned only after her second husband passed away. 

As we chatted my suspicions were confirmed however, that Mom was relatively homeless through her high school years. Aunt Pat recalled just how often mom seemed to stay here, there and everywhere that she could bunk in. At times she was at her sister's for more than a few nights and also stayed at some acquaintances of my grandmother's as a mother's helper.  But more often than not, Mom was fending for herself.
  

Somehow her tuition expenses were met because she went to a parochial school but she truly didn't have much family support in her circle. Aunt Pat said she suspected some family turmoil but never knew for certain because Mom never said. She guessed it to be alcohol.  Aunt Pat said she had never met anyone like my mom during those years who seemed to always be asking one friend or another if she could come and sleep at their house for a few days. I'm sure I remember my mom saying to no one in particular that she'd never had a birthday party as a child. She also never really talked about any holidays, or holiday traditions and the few pictures we have of mom as a child were taken when she was farmed out to an aunt's farm in Port Huron, Michigan. 

 So today, to honor Mom for the woman she single-handedly became, we shared some lunch and some laughs and admired how she managed to get through her own childhood relatively unscathed and launched into a 53 year love affair with my father, which produced ten children, nine who survive.   We talked about mom's personality which depicts a child of alcoholism. Some detachment, some caustic conversations and trying to control everyone's life at times (since her's was out of control that's often what happens). 

How do you learn to become a parent of nine children and manage them without husbandly support?  Oh, my dad was around of course, but he worked many jobs to pay for a roof over our heads, put food on the table and parochial school for each of us whether it was some, part or all years of our education.  You learn by trial and error and never, ever give up and that's what mom did with us. She never gave up, though I'm sure she'd have liked to throw in the towel more than once and run for the hills.  The only problem was we could probably all have chased her down and dragged her back.  

Mostly mom just did what the day demanded. She seemed to enjoy baking more than cooking and it wasn't unusual to come home to the fragrant aroma of baking bread or freshly made donuts.  At Christmastime our relatives and friends couldn't wait to get their hands on one of Mom's coffee cakes.  She was an excellent seamstress, a good cook and a great baker. Mom loved to read and as Aunt Pat reminded me, her conversations had substance. She just loved each of us the best way she knew how.and loved us more than we will ever know, of this I'm certain.  

Each passing year I miss my mother all the more. The last few years of her life I was able to be with her day in and day out.  A privilege that will never come this way again.  

Have a scoop of ice-cream in honor of Donna Jean.  Or if you  are hankering for one of Mom's favorites,  German Chocolate Cake, dig in!