The Day that Al-Anon Saved Me

I first stepped into an Al-Anon meeting over 25 years ago. I went because someone I cared about and was close with was a recovering addict and alcoholic. He insisted that to truly know him, that I needed to have an understanding of his world. Since I had not known him as an active addict and I had no known addiction or alcoholism in my family, going to those meetings meant very little to me. I was not going for myself at the time, but rather because someone asked me to and I had no frame of reference for what these people in this group were going through or what these meetings meant to them. After a meeting or two, I felt I had done my due diligence and I was done.

That experience was my first real knowledge of Al-Anon and even then I didn't fully understand what it was all about. Not until my son became an addict did Al-Anon re-enter my life as even a thought. Little did I know that there would come a day that Al-Anon would literally save me.

In the early stages of my sons addiction, when I think everyone on the outside looking in knew there was a problem before I did, Al-Anon was suggested to me by a friend who was also a therapist. I think she saw much more than I did, especially when I was living in a world of enabling and denying. I was sure that first and foremost my son was not an addict and that whatever was going on with him, I could control, manipulate and fix. So you can imagine with my ego running unchecked, the thought of a group telling me how to handle my situation was not in the least bit appealing. From time to time though, when things were extremely tense and glimpses of reality were starting to come clear,  Al-Anon did pop into my head and I did contemplate finding a meeting. That was as far as it went though.

When reality finally hit me in the head like a ton of brick and we were on the 3rd, 4th...8th relapse, I could no longer deny that I was in way over my head. I was fighting to keep someone clean who didn't want to be clean. As fast as I could drive him to a detox, sober living, etc, he was walking out the door blaming everyone but himself and I was buying every ounce of BS he spouted....to a point. 

Everyone else in my world was now seeing clearly what I still denied. I was enabling my addict with lightening speed and making excuses for the inexcusable, while he was wreaking havoc and leaving a trail of chaos and destruction in his path. It had become a whirlwind of drama where he was instigating and demanding and refusing help all in the same breath. There was a two to three week period where he was the absolute focus of my life day and night. I spent my days running him from place to place looking for sober living, making counseling appointments and spending money on him replacing clothes and personal item he had either traded for drugs or gotten stolen. The only "right" thing I did in this period of time was not let him back in my home. Had I not had some not so gentle pressure from other family members, this might not have been the case. However even at night I worried about where he was, what he was doing and if I was going to hear from him the next day....or ever again. On the rare nights when I was able to drift off, like clock work he would call or message me with some new crisis or drama of his own creation which demanded my immediate attention. It was never ending and my health both mentally and physically was starting to crumble.

The day finally came when I realized that I could no longer continue being this boys ATM, his personal chauffeur and his supreme enabler. I could not save him but I had to try and save myself. The realization that I was being used and nothing less and that he had no desire to get clean was finally brought squarely home, so that day I dropped him off, went home and went to sleep.

The next day I realized that I really had no control over any of this and that if I didn't do something quick, his addiction was going to kill me. That day I looked up our local Al-Anon chapter and I called the number. There was no answer and I was devastated, but I left my name and number and hung up. I don't know whether I really wanted that call back or not, because when the number came up on my phone as an incoming call, I almost didn't answer. Thank God I did. 

On the other end of that line was the voice of an angel. She told me there was hope. She wasn't talking about my addict, she was talking about me. During our conversation, I cried and told my sad and long suffering story about my addict and our history. She listened without saying anything. When I was done, she told me that the first thing I needed to do was come to a meeting. Unfortunately, in my small town they only had meetings one night a week and this meeting was days away. She told me though, that there were other meetings in other towns that weren't too far away and that I should check them out. Her voice was kind, strong and knowing as she shared with me that her own personal situation was not unlike my own and she was surviving. When I got off the phone, I immediately found the next available meeting closest to me. God does have mysterious ways. It just so happened that the next meeting was the following day.....at the place where I had gone to my first meeting all those years ago. It had to be a sign that I needed to do this.

That night, I tried to remember what it was like to go to an Al-Anon meeting. I remembered very little. Then I started thinking about me, my addict and this meeting. Hell Yes I was going to this meeting! I had put up with years of verbal and now physical abuse.  No longer was I going to deal with the horrible names, the destruction in my home and the manipulation that he handed out as easily as he breathed. I could only imagine what all of those people would think when I told them of the things he had said to me and how much he had put me through. Always before I had gone out of my way to protect his image even to the point of lying, but no longer. I didn't care what anyone thought of him. I felt like a prisoner that was about to get their day in court and boy was everyone going to get an earful.

The next day I drove to the Al-Anon meeting. My stomach did flips all the way as my emotions were caught between my ego stinging from not being able to handle this myself and being prepared to rawly lay out my addicts story to a bunch of complete strangers. Then it occurred to me, what if they thought his addiction was my fault? What if they told me to my face that I was responsible for his issues? I was nearly sick before I finally pulled up. It had been a bit of a drive to get there, so I wasn't about to not go in. Maybe on second thought, I would just sit there and not say a word. Just because I came today didn't mean I had to come back. All these thoughts. All these emotions. It took everything I had to walk through those doors but something told me that I was out of options and if I didn't, I really might not survive.

As I walked in and sat down, I was greeted warmly. Obviously they knew I was new face. Those present asked me my name (first name only), ask me if I was new to Al-Anon and told me to sit wherever I liked. I sat down and felt strangely at ease. People walked in and by appearance seemed to come from every walk of life. The room filled quickly and soon the meeting was underway. As the leader began the meeting, it was pointed out in the introduction that Al-Anon was not about our addicts or alcoholics. It was about us. I'm not sure that sunk in that day. It took me a meeting or two before I got the full brunt of that statement.

The meeting was set up with a topic (detachment was that weeks topic)and then we went around the room discussing that topic as it pertained to us. The people before me talked about detaching as if it was a natural part of life. There were parents, siblings, children and friends and extended family of alcoholics and addicts sitting around the table. Some of their addicts were practicing and others weren't. Some lived with their alcoholics and some didn't. Whatever the case though, they talked of detachment as if it were the easiest thing in life. Phrases like, "What she does is none of my business," and "He has the right to make bad decisions, even if that is drinking and using," literally floored me. Then it was my turn.

Detachment didn't fit in with the story I was planning on telling, so I tried to get honest. I simply started by saying, "I have no idea how to detach." It was probably the most honest and clear thing I had said in a very long time. I did end up telling my story, but from a much different vantage point, because as I told it, I realized that I had some blame in this story. It wasn't all my addict, I had responsibility for how some of this had played out. Listening to their stories had made me realize in that one pivotal moment that I was not the victim that I had visualized myself being. I also wasn't the all wise and all knowing one either who could step in and control and fix this thing. In that moment I knew that I was the mom of an addict, who didn't have a clue about how to handle myself, my life or my addict and that here and now......I was in the place that I belonged.

After that meeting, I walked out with a new word.....detachment. I knew that to move forward that detachment would become a working verb in my life and it would possibly become my saving grace. I would have to pry myself out of my sons life and relearn motherhood from the place of addiction. My life was truly changed that day. In one hour I had found some peace, a glimmer of hope in the fact that I could see my dire situation with fresh eyes and a better perspective. It also occurred to me, that not unlike my addict, in order for him to get clean and stay that way, he has to want it and be willing to do whatever it takes to get that way.  It was the same for me. If I wanted to be healthy emotionally and physically, even in the midst of addiction, I had to be willing to do whatever it takes to get that way too. Before that day I had begged for a miracle. That day it was given to me.

Since then, I have only grown in my own self awareness as to what I can and cannot do where addiction is concerned. Through Al-Anon I have learned that I am never alone in this battle but that I am completely powerless over addiction and my addicts choices. The only thing I truly have control over is myself and my own actions and attitudes. By going to meetings and reading my Al-Anon books, I have gained tools to regain my sanity that was almost destroyed in the insane world of addiction and although my son still struggles with addiction, I am able to see him as more than just an addict all the while maintaining loving detachment and healthy boundaries for both of us.

In one fell swoop that day, my ego and my illusions about myself and my situation were brought down and replaced with a realistic overview and I have never looked back. I attend several meetings throughout the week and I do my readings daily. I remind myself that I can only do so much and I have learned to give what I can't do over to my Higher Power (God). I have become much closer to my faith throughout all of this and my mental and physical health are much improved.

Now don't get me wrong. I won't say that every day is easy and that life is a dream. Far from it. But I have learned how to handle the tough times in much healthier ways and while I may vacation in the negative from time to time, I don't allow myself to move in. My life is much happier, much more peaceful and much more serene and I call that a win.

If you have an addict/alcoholic in your life and you feel like you are at the end of your rope, I encourage you to check out Al-Anon or NarAnon in your area. Like they say at the end of every meeting....."It works if you work it....and you're worth it!"

Until next time..........

How I Got Here!

When we envision having children, we think of adorable little mini me's who love us unconditionally, hang on our every word and bask in the glow of the knowledge that we instill in them. The reality is pretty much the same as the vision....and then they turn 2! From that point forward though, it is a constant uphill battle on the part of parents to get them to walk and talk, then to sit down and be quiet. We spend hours dealing with fits over seams in socks, eating vegetables and bed times. Then before we know it, they are teenagers and we learn that we have done such a good job as parents that they suddenly have minds of their own and they ain't afraid to use them, however immature and inexperienced in the real world they are. The fits turn into battles and we find ourselves battling over curfews, friends, boy friends/girl friends, homework, driving and there is always the fact that they are so wise at 15, 16, 17, 18..... that they simply do not understand how we as the dinosaurs that we are, can carry on a conversation let alone understand their oh so complex lives. Yes, parenting looks much easier on paper than it is in reality.

With all of this though, never once in my pre-child days did I ever say to myself, "Gee I hope my child grows up to be an addict." Even in those trying years of being a toddler on up to the know it all teen, never did it occur to me that my angel would ever make a choice that would become an addiction. Maybe my child was right when he believed I did not understand his oh so complex life.

Now I was not completely catatonic during my kids growing up years and I did spend many an afternoon, evening and car ride discussing drinking, drugs and the dangers of the two. At first my kids listened wide eyed and intent on the dangers of underage drinking, drinking and driving and never even smoking weed as it had been drilled into me by their father that weed was a gateway drug. He would have been the voice of knowledge as he had been a dual addict who had spent years in recovery, while I was the small town girl whose worst vice had been a little drinking and a little dive into smoking that lasted about six months. I thought it made me look cool, but it really just made me wheeze because I had asthma. That was the extent of my knowledge of the illicit world of drugs, so it is no wonder that my drug lectures eventually fell on deaf ears. At some point they were living in a world where drugs were at every party, offered in every school hallway and they couldn't throw a stick without hitting a kid who was part of the ever developing drug culture. It is true, after awhile, my lectures must have become monotonous and lame and they just tuned me out. In my ego inflated brain though, I truly thought I was getting through with my self-righteous "don't do drugs," and "just say no" regurgitation from every after school special I had ever watched. I was wrong.

At first my child just started becoming distant. I justified this by telling myself he was just a teenager and teenagers just did this. Then in time the distance became laced with anger. He could go from zero to aggressive in seconds and over nothing. Then I began to fall into the pit of enabling. I had no idea I was enabling or that there was anything going on other than teenage angst, but there was and I did.

I would question, poke, prod, lay down the law and battle this child of mine daily. It seemed like in the course of a few days, he had gone from the child I knew to some pod person that had taken over my sons body. That is how it seemed, but looking back I can now see that this had been coming on for awhile. Maybe even a year or so. At first it was just weed and he wasn't really smoking enough of it to set off too many alarms, but as he began to dabble in other drugs, they were taking a hold of him and his brain and the changes became too obvious to ignore. Still though, I was looking for excuses for him. I tried to convince myself that it was everything from him being bullied at school, to having a hard time with school work, to even psychiatric issues. Never once did drugs ever occur to me. All the while though, I was being naive and making excuses which started a long and winding path of enabling.

I had no idea that drugs were at the core of his issues, but his attitudes and behaviors were starting to get borderline violent, erratic and abusive. It wasn't just at home either. He was an equal opportunity aggressor and his actions were starting to cause many problems with teachers, community members, other family members and friends. Still, I was the mom and as the mom I had to make everything better, so I went into "fix it" mode. As he went through life damaging, destroying and causing chaos, there I was following right behind him picking up his messes, trying to fix the damage and making excuses for his behaviors right down to lying to family and friends as to why he was acting the way he was. My excuses included but were not limited to: "He's tired. He's had a bad day. He's not feeling well." And my all time favorite, complete denial that he did something by simply saying, "You are lying! He didn't do that." The situation was getting out of hand for both of us.

Finally one day when things were particularly rough for both of us and he was appearing to have an emotional break down of sorts, he blurted out that he was smoking pot. I remember being completely and totally dumb struck. I absolutely had no words.....until I did! The words were, "your grounded and you aren't smoking any more weed ever" and then I am sure there was incoherent screaming that followed because I was lost. Unfortunately, my son was already well on his way to establishing some very fine addict tools and he pulled manipulation out of his hat like a pro. Before our conversation was over, he had gone into victim mode as to all the reason he had chosen to use, "I was too strict, I was too mean, I didn't understand him," but my favorite was that he was having extreme anxiety and weed helped calm him. Now this might have been a good one had the child ever had anxiety before. He had not. Still, before all was said and done, my motherly guilt was in full gear and he walked away punishment free and still smoking weed.

Now let me say here, if you have never had a child with addiction issues, you probably just rolled your eyes and thought, what a pathetic parent I am. If however you are reading this and you have walked in these same shoes, then I am almost sure you have lived some version of that last paragraph yourself.

My denial and his manipulation ran deep. That day I showed him that I was a huge enabler who chose to believe my son over my gut which even at the time was churning as I think I knew there was more to the story. I also taught him through my actions and reactions that he could pretty easily manipulate me because I so wanted there to be a reason that he chose to smoke pot rather than just the fact that he wanted to smoke pot and liked it.

In time his drug of choice switched up to include methamphetamine. The story of how he "chose" that drug will be for another blog but make no mistake, he did choose it. In fact before it became his disease, it was his choice. This became a very grim time in our lives as I was still heavily in denial all the while he was constantly running, having strange people into my home, wrecking cars and getting more and more vile, aggressive and dangerous.

When I finally learned that he was using meth, this was so foreign to me that I had no idea what was even going on. I found out one day when a friend of his took me to him, he was staying at a house that I had no idea was a drug house. This individual took me right up to him and told me to look at him and never to forget what I saw. My son who had always carried a little weight was skinny, his skin was pale, his eyes sunken and they literally looked crazy. My son was beyond angry and as I left he proceeded to stand out in the street and scream obscenities at me. Later that day, he started sending me texts that were vile. He told me that he wished I were dead and that when I died he would be so happy that he would dance on my grave. He also called me names that were so vulgar and insulting. I couldn't imagine calling someone I hated those things let alone calling my mother that.

Within days he was close to death and he knew it. When he came down he barely remembered any of his tirade and he begged to come home. Looking back now I laugh, but at the time I felt like he was in a bad place and somehow I was now in charge. I was in control. I allowed him to come home with a laundry list of rules. Soon, he started looking and acting more like the son I raised and before long, it seemed like things were normal again. Until they weren't.

Within a year, I began to see changes again. Unfortunately, I was still stuck so far in denial that once again, I didn't recognize what I was seeing. Once again I had to be told and had to have his drug use forced down my throat before I knew what was going on. Once again I thought I was in control  and pulled the reins in tight. There was peace for a few more months.

When the third relapse happened, my naivety was starting to grow thinner and my gut was telling me that he was using. Then as happens with addicts, he started getting sloppy, cocky and feeling like consequences couldn't touch him. That is how he got caught by me on this occasion. I may have been getting wiser at this point but I was still pretty stupid about drugs and addicts. I still somehow thought I had some control and that I could "fix" things. I gave it one last try and it could have very easily had tragic results.

By this time, he had been both snorting and smoking meth. I began searching his room in my house and I found that he was stashing both meth and paraphernalia everywhere. He had also been dealing and selling with my vehicle (he had wrecked his) and he was getting involved with meth people who were very dangerous.

My having any control over him was quickly becoming a joke. He never stopped using and his behaviors were getting worse and worse. No day was a safe day in my house. He was aggressively engaging the neighbors, he would scream and yell and throw horrific tantrums in the house and he was getting physical with me. Still I lied for him and made excuses. I was slowly beginning to isolate myself from everyone because the lies and the hiding of who he was becoming were becoming more than I could handle. I was allowing him, the addict, full control over my life and I had no idea how to be anything but a victim.

One day, I found lines of meth in his room. It felt like the last straw and I kicked him out. He tried desperately to manipulate, threaten and control, but a switch had flipped inside of me and I was done living without sleep because I was afraid of what was going on in my house at night. I was tired of the daily fights and having to apologize to neighbors. I was tired of being abused and I was tired of seeing his face. Harsh but true.

He moved in with a friend and it became out of sight out of mind for me. I would get updates from time to time on him and have an occasional talk with him but I never saw him in person. I was told he was clean, but I found it funny that in 8-10 months he still didn't have a job, but I was just trying to find peace in my life so I really didn't ask too many questions. As long as I knew he was a live, I was okay. I never in a million years imagined that as a mom I would get to this point, but I was. Until I wasn't.

One day my son showed up at my house. He looked horrible and he was crying. He told me that he had been using the whole time he had been out of the house and that he had graduated to shooting up meth. By this time I really shouldn't have been shocked, but I was. My heart sunk as he sat in front of me looking sick, pale and horribly thin. He said he wanted help and just like that, I was back in enabling mom mode, ready to fix everything.

I spent the next two weeks getting him into detox, sober living and counseling. All of which he left as soon as he got there. He didn't want to be clean. Not really. He was killing me though. Literally! I once again was not sleeping, not eating and I was idling on high anxiety terrified that my son was going to die and feeling as if I was the only one who could save him. Then one Sunday I was sitting in church and I nearly passed out. I was beyond exhausted and I knew that I was both mentally and physically at my breaking point and for what? That day I dropped him off at a "friends" house and then I went home and went to bed. The following Saturday I went to my first Al-Anon meeting.

I walked into the meeting feeling victimized. I wanted to know how to fix my son and to get my life back into some kind of order. I wanted off this hamster wheel where I kept doing the same thing going in circles. I didn't know if I was going to find it here as I had avoided Al-Anon from the beginning, no matter how many times it was suggested, but I knew that what I had done so far was sure not the answer.

On that day, being in that room with a bunch of strangers, this is what I learned. Everyone in that room was different and yet we were all the same. We all had family members and friends that were alcoholics and addicts. We had all enabled, controlled and tried to fix our addicts with no luck and we were all at the end of our ropes. I also learned that I was not a victim and that I could not fix my sons addiction. I was powerless over his addiction and more importantly, I was powerless over his choices. I learned that he was an adult and that by enabling him, fixing things and making excuses for his actions, I was part of the problem and standing in the way of him ever getting help. The hardest thing that I realized that day though was that no matter what I wanted for him, he had the right to make bad decisions and I had to let him live with the consequences of those decisions. Then there was the light at the end of the tunnel, when I was made to know that Al-Anon was not for me to fix my addict, it was for me to fix me because I was part of the problem.

In that one hour, I had learned more about both myself and my addict than I had in all the previous years of his addiction. I walked out feeling hope as I had seen people in my exact shoes who were smiling, rested and moving on with their lives. I had a whole new prospective on both myself and and my son, the addict. It was both a spiritual and an emotional awakening. I have never looked back.

This is my story as the Al-Anon Mom. My name is LE and this blog is about my recovery as the mother of an addict. Yes, there will be stories about addiction thrown in because at times it will be hard to tell my story without telling how I got here, but this  blog will by my therapy and my service.

I hope if you like what you read you let me know in the comments. Also if you have questions or need help because you are struggling with an alcoholic or addict in your life, please know that like me there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Al-Anon and NarAnon groups are in just about every city and even in smaller communities and they can and will help if you let them. You are worth it, just like I am and no....no matter how strong you are, you can't fix your alcoholic or addict. The only person you can fix is you.

Until next time.......