Could Restore us to Sanity

Growing up the way I did made a huge impact on me.  The denial system was pervasive not only at home but also in the extended family and spread  out further and further.  Not only in space, also in time.

All my relationships skewed by my "need" to wear the  spacesuit of denial on Earth and this was normal, fitting-in, being nice, people-pleasing, trying to be on the inside how I thought others were but come to find-out that's what most of them were doing, too.  I learned to do this.

I remember times when I was a little girl feeling happy, joyous and free.  Skipping on the sidewalk, playing hopscotch, and running just to feel the air against my face, long hair swishing back and forth, pounding heart beat my chest, and my young strong legs leaping, pumping, stretching just for the heck of it.  Racing home.  And on a good day, the smell of fresh cooked tortillas wafting through the neighborhood actually came from my house.  My little heart swelled with love, gratitude and pride.  My mom was sober, or not fixating on dad's absence, and there was enough money to buy flour.  The smell of Pine-sol and tortillas.  This was a reality I embraced and held close to my heart.  All was well with my soul.  It wasn't much but I felt wonderful and blessed.

The insanity was in the denial of the truth.  The truth was both my parents were afflicted with addiction.  One to heroin, the other to alcohol and codependent.  Their obsessive, compulsive fixations spun in the usual control, release, guilt/shame, control, release, guilt/shame cycle to seek relief as it grew worse and worse.  The physical phenomena of craving triggered by the insanity of the strange mental blank spot that preempts the first drink, pill, argument, donut, touch, gamble, etc.  Therein lies the insanity.  We "forget".

As I grew up, I told myself I didn't ever want to be like my mother.  I looked down on her, secretly scorning her, disrespecting everything about her.  I grew up to be a lot more like her than I ever cared to admit.   I, too, grew up to be an alcoholic and codependent.  Acting-out left and right but denying it all the way until I hit bottom in 1993.  Tit for tat.  Jeesh.  Another layer of insanity.

Thinking I was so normal to be so ill.  Until I hit bottom.  Reality presented itself.  The truth is I need a Power greater than me to help me.  And that Power cannot be me.   Plus I am the one who must seek out, then open the door to invite this Higher Power into my heart, mind, soul, and life.  On page 61 of "Alcoholics Anonymous", it says "... our personal adventures before and after make clear three pertinent ideas: (a) That we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives. (b) That probably no human power could have relieved our alcoholism. (c) That God could and would if He were sought."

I substitute the words of "alcohol" with the current challenge I'm addressing.  Also, instead of using "he" to refer to God sometimes I use "God".  It takes what it takes until I can make it to the other side.

There are times now, in this program, where I feel happy, joyous and free.  Liberated from the bondage of self, of carrying the load consisting of self-centeredness, selfishness, dishonesty, etc.  I turn it all over to my Higher Power.  I let go and let GOD.  One day at a time.  Sincerely, Carol xoxox