A very dear friend has recently come to recognize that her partner is a full-blown alcoholic, very much caught in the throes of the disease and not resting on the periphery, as he would have everyone believe. The realization came to her at first through snippets of facts that were difficult to dispute. But once a bit of the truth came to light, numerous pieces of evidence tumbled into her life an avalanche. Very quickly, there was no more denying that the life she and her partner had been living was based on many lies and manipulations.
When she realized the extent of the deception, she made the decision that she could not have this man in her life for the time being. It was a decision I fully supported, but not for the same reasons that she made it.
My friend is devastated by deceit of her partner. This has been amplified over the past two weeks as friends and co-workers realize the game is up, and are coming forward with more “helpful” information on the real story that has been hidden from my friend – or that she chose not to see – over the past several years. With every new realization of a different treachery, she feels a new pocket of pain that she must process. SOAs often refer to this process as the peeling back of an onion – there are always more layers and as each one is stripped away, it will bring with it some tears.

Her friends and acquaintances are not meaning to be cruel. Most people honestly care, and simply want to help by helping to identify the truth. But they don’t feel such honesty will be welcomed when the relationship is still “stable” because they don’t want to be the one to rock the boat. So they wait until there are signs that they might be believed. Unfortunately, this results in their moments of truth arriving at times of our greatest vulnerability. The SOA can then feel that not only were they lied to by their alcoholic, but their friends and co-workers as well. And they wouldn’t be wrong. In this way, the onion continues to be peeled, painful layer by painful layer, until we feel like the world we are living in must be a completely different one from where we’ve been all of these years. And if that was false, then what else is false? Can I trust anyone, including myself (after all, I picked this person and lived the lie for so long)? Am I, in fact, unlovable?

This catastrophic thought process if very natural in our circumstances and seems to be a process we need to go through. But try not to wallow in it. Instead, try to focus on these thoughts:

1. Alcoholism is a disease that has infected my partner. I didn’t cause it, I can’t control it and I can’t cure it. That means that everything the alcoholic has done was his doing, not mine;
2. That said, the alcoholism has affected me. I can’t control or cure the alcoholic, but I can effect changes in myself.

My friend decided that at least for the time being, she should split from her partner. It was a decision I fully supported because I feel she needs to time and space to focus on herself, and he needs the time and space to seek help and try to start dealing with his own issues. It is not always necessary for there to be separation in order for an SOA to begin the healing process; but it is quite usual that an alcoholic would benefit from time in a professional recovery centre. At any rate, the first step in healing ourselves is to only take responsibility for ourselves, not the alcoholic. We start by taking the focus off of them and placing it on ourself.

We cannot sleep all of the time. Most of what we call “life” takes place during our waking hours. Initially, moving from our dark, warm bed into the cold light of day can be a frightening prospect. But an awake life is more honest and real. Facing our issues – hopefully with a good support program behind us – is the ultimate love for yourself. It says “I know things are tough right now, but I am worthy of a better life and I’m going to work at getting to that”. When we wake up and face our issues, we put ourselves on the road to recovery and we know that despite the pain of healing, a better life awaits us because an awake life brings us so much more than pain. An awake life also brings us satisfaction, happiness, love and joy.

My life is complicated. While the alcoholic is no longer in my life (although he does occasionally touch base with our children), I’ve traded the chaos that used to be for the structured craziness which is my new normal. My teenage sons are increasingly self-sufficient, although they live at home. Whether it is their personalities or the experience of being abandoned by a parent, they seem slow to grow up entirely. If left on their own for more than a few days when I travel for business, they stop eating vegetables, forget to do their chores and look after the animals only when prompted by a hungry dog or cat. The house is usually a mess when I arrive home, and they seem to breathe a sigh of relief when they hear me run a bath or do my laundry – safe, sound and around.

My boyfriend, while mostly at my place, has a house of his own 100km’s away. Close by are his four step children and now four grandchildren, all good reasons for him to make the trek home several times a week to feed his cat, water his plants and visit with family. I try to spend the weekend there with him at least once a month.

I work full time, run a very part time consulting practice, and for extra money to help this single mom pay the rent I also take in international students. My job requires that I travel six or seven times per year, usually to other parts of Canada although not for very long stays.

Most days and evenings I feel like I’m running from obligation to necessity, squeezing in fun (like skiing, going to a movie or having dinner with friends) between activities I’ve planned to help me maintain my health (pilates) and my sense of self (singing lessons).

Very seldom do I simply have a night to myself.

When my alcoholic husband left me with the kids, an enormous mortgage and an uncomfortable amount of debt, my focus was on survival. I worked hard to ensure I would keep a steady income, and I dedicated the rest of my life to ensuring that my kids had two parents in one. For several years, aside from attending my regular support group meetings I did very little for myself. But in time, my sponsor taught me that an important part of my own recovery was to learn how to put myself first.

This is an uncomfortable concept for many SOAs. We are experts at martyrdom. We seem to believe that our purpose in life is to support those around us. So learning to suppress this immediate instinct and take care of ourselves FIRST is a challenge. But I’ve learned that it is a vitally important concept to embrace. My sister helped to reinforce this learning by referencing the airplane safety videos that advise parents – in the event of a loss of air pressure – to put a mask on themselves before helping dependents. My sister reminded me that my children completely relied on me to be healthy and even happy. It was incumbent on me to ensure that I was taking whatever steps were needed to work toward my health and happiness, for their sake as well as my own.

This is a classic example of how to get an SOA to do something for themselves – tell them they should do it for other people. I stopped smoking, so many years ago, when research showed the terrible effects of second hand smoke. And I learned to look after myself first when I realized my sister was right…I was the only one taking care of me and if I didn’t do it, my children might be at risk.

So today, I remembered that when in doubt, I should put myself first. I will not be jumping in the car to make the long drive to my boyfriend’s house. If he wants to come here, he’s welcome to do so. But my first choice has to be for my own sanity. I’ve lived the other way and it didn’t work out so well!

We can’t necessarily stop bad things from happening, but we can certainly send positive and negative energy out there into the Universe. So instead of continuing with this expression of negativity, I paused and asked myself why I was feeling this way. My shaman has said that worries about death are often a masking of worries about life…so what in my life was I really afraid of? In time, I realized that what needed to die was my old life.

I am in a very good job but while I should probably have been promoted to the top position of my department given my years of experience and qualifications, I have not. I finally had to admit that for whatever reason, it simply wasn’t going to happen where I am. I needed to let go of the dream that, if I were to be honest with myself, I frankly didn’t want. I don’t want the additional stress, hours and travel. My kids, despite being in their teen years, seem to need me now more than ever. But in a few years they will be far more independent and my role as parent will have drastically changed. I want to enjoy my time with them right now. And my relationship with my boyfriend is wonderful and coming at a time in my life when I increasingly have the time and space to share with him. Yet I could sense myself holding back from fully committing to it. Viewing my life objectively, it seemed that everything had been beautifully converging to move me to a very healthy and happy place. The only thing “undone” was the redirection of my psyche.

By clinging to expectations (based on a prior iteration of my life) around my job, and holding onto feelings of frustration and anger around my previous relationship with the alcoholic, I was stuck between two different worlds. The old one needed to die so I could make the space to fully enjoy my new life potential. When I realized this, my fears for the impending travel dissipated. What’s more, this new belief that I have no control over a higher future with my company allowed me to lower my participation level in my meetings. I’m normally very engaged and vocal. This time, however, I was uncharacteristically quiet. As a result, I found my colleagues had a greater desire to get closer to me and we got to know each other better than ever before. I genuinely enjoyed myself on the trip!

It’s easy to allow fears to take over our lives. Our bodies crave the drama, but we are not well served by it. It really is our choice whether to allow the drama to take hold and make us miserable, or to understand that drama may be masking a life lesson. I remember that when I was in the throes of chaos with my alcoholic, it felt like everything I did was a necessary reaction to his actions. I really missed the concept of free choice. Now, through curiosity and self-reflection I found strength to make a positive choice for myself. It’s a nice feeling, and great to know that I didn’t need to die to get here!

Once again, I find myself at work facing an abusive female in a position of authority over me. At first I gave her space, believing she was just having a tough day and needed a break. The next time I reported her, informally, just to ensure someone was aware of her behaviors. It was then I learned that these behaviors had been going on for quite some time, and had led to as many as six people leaving the company. The third time it happened, I told my company I would not work directly with her again. Since then, I’ve been repeatedly asked if I would file a formal complaint, but I’ve refused. For one thing, I’m not convinced that her behaviors are sufficiently bad to justify a formal complaint. But there are two other perhaps more important reasons I’m not taking an official stand.

The first is that I have to stop enabling bad behavior – in this case not by this person, but rather by the company. They clearly have evidence that this person is abusive, but instead of dealing with it themselves, they are seeking to hide behind a more vulnerable employee (me). My own arrangement to avoid working with this woman, endorsed by my company, effectively protects me. Yet they would have me go through the emotional trauma of filing a formal complaint simply in the hope that one more nail will effectively finish her coffin. As you can probably imagine, I already feel used enough in this lifetime. I took on far too much in my relationship with my alcoholic, so that he could continue to lead a drunken, chaotic life regardless of the impact on me. I can’t go there again and I shouldn’t be asked to. But when I am – I have the choice to just say no.

The second is that my task was to establish and maintain my boundaries, which I’ve done. I don’t need to scream and yell, or get this person fired. Being with an alcoholic and raising a family taught me to be forceful and determined, swatting at mosquitoes with baseball bats if need be. In my own recovery, I’m learning the finesse that leads to precise, effective moves rather than loud, fast ones. I recall working with my Shaman, admitting to a part of me she called “the bulldozer”and declaring how much I disliked that side of me – wishing it were gone. “It’s already started to go, just by you saying that” she explained. And she was right. I am very capable of being a bulldozer, and so, they’ve admitted, are many of my friends. But I’m also capable of making a choice as to how I react to life. We don’t need to be that way in life and really, who wants to fight for every little thing. Isn’t it enough that we simply put up our hands and say “you’re hurting me..stop” or “if you keep yelling I’ll leave the room until you get yourself under control” or quite simply “no”.

These two lessons – no longer enabling bad behavior, and quietly but determinedly maintaining my boundaries for respectful treatment – have occurred more than I am comfortable with. But the trick is to stay curious about why certain things are happening in your life, to see the pattern and recognize a lesson in the madness, and to focus on learning how to overcome the challenge and to finally get the lesson. I’ll know I’m on the right path if these lessons stop and some new ones arrive in their place!

One of the most important groups in which we find celebration and comfort is our family.  This can refer to your blood relatives, or friends with which you’ve chosen to surround yourself.  But unlike a book club or professional association, your exposure and vulnerability to your family is not necessarily controlled.  It is usually an ongoing and somewhat frequent relationship with individuals who will probably see you in your good, bad and the ugly times.  So it is important that these relationships be trustworthy.  Many of us assume that they will automatically be so.  We inherently believe that family not simply be there for us, but that they should also be supportive and without judgement.   Yet intuitively we understand that not all family members were created equally, and we tend to pick and chose those with whom we are prepared to be the most vulnerable.

When I was going through my most stressful times, there were certain individuals on whom I could most rely to listen, to comfort, to give me strength to get through another day.  Now, several years after having gone through this struggle, I’m noticing an uncomfortable shift in my relationship with some of those people.  It’s as if they preferred being the strong one to my needy self, and as my strength recovers, they need to find small ways to put me down in order to maintain the relationship dynamic that they are used to.  This can be at first confusing and in time infuriating to us.  We’ve already spent far too long expecting a healthy relationship with our alcoholics.  Now that we’ve put those expectations aside – perhaps forever or at least until the alcoholic is better – it’s hard to accept that they very people we trusted the most throughout our ordeals have become manipulative as well.  

Life is not a cruel joke – merely a series of lessons we must learn and it isn’t impossible that once we’ve begun to learn a lesson, we might be retested in a safer environment down the road to ensure we got it.    By distancing myself from the individuals who seemed to be trying to manipulate our relationship, I was able to reflect on the situation with less emotion.  In that light, I realized that this was a gentle and loving reminder of what I had learned. 

1.  We recover by recognizing the dividing line between our own issues, and those of others.  Once we see that division, we work on building self-respect to the point where we can start to require respect from others who wish to be in a relationship with us.    
2. When those boundaries of respect are crossed, we learn to recognize it and take action.  That can include limiting interaction with that individual; speaking with them about what’s happening, or sometimes just feeling compassion for that other person.
3. Regardless of how we chose to address the crossing of our boundaries, we must acknowledge and respect the fact that whatever is instigating their behavior is their stuff, not ours.  We didn’t cause it, we can’t cure it, and we can’t control it.  And most importantly, other than the reminder lesson that the experience is giving us, this is not about us.  It’s about them.

 Recovery and maintenance requires our constant vigilance and awareness of how we are feeling.  For a long time I felt uncomfortable these individuals in my life but could not put my finger on the cause.  When I spent some time in meditation exploring what I was feeling, I realized what was happening.  Then I had to move quickly into a feeling of compassion and respect for the other individual.  I could see how their world was spinning out of control. I could empathize with how they might be struggling with their own sense of purpose in light of what was going on in their life and how they might find solace in period in our relationship when they were clearly the stronger one, the one in charge.   I get it. 

That doesn’t mean I have to buy into the manipulation; that wouldn’t be a healthy place for me to go.  But I can be empathetic, while recognizing their situation was just that: theirs, and not mine.

If it seems unfair that friends could seem to turn into foes, remember that life can change in the blink of an eye.  All the more reason to really value what you have, when you have it.  Your health, your job, your good friends, your family, your pastimes.  And it never hurts to spend a moment in gratitude, considering where you were last week, last month or last year.

A co-worker is upset for some reason, and I’m a beneficiary of his anger.  He snapped at me last week for no reason that I can discern, and hasn’t said a word to me since.  This difference in behavior is very noticeable, as we usually chat several times a day.

In the “olden days” I probably would have been so uncomfortable with the silence that I would jump in there and try to figure out what was wrong.  This I would probably have tried to fix it.  This time, I’m simply focusing on keeping my distance.  He probably perceives this as my ignoring him, or being in a snit myself.  And that’s OK.  I couldn’t control his actions that started this series of events, and I can’t control his thought process throughout. 

My reaction (or lack thereof) is bound to be noticed because this isn’t the kind of relationship we usually have.  Normally I’m incredibly involved and supportive.  He’s a great manager and he has a lot of talent in business; but like most of us, he has his challenges as well.  I’ve spoken with him on numerous occasions about the particular challenge that I believe is probably precipitating his latest anger, but my words haven’t seemed to have helped.  So I’m out of words, and hoping that allowing him the space in which to feel the logical results of his actions may serve as a better lesson. 

This is a tough thing for me to do.  Alcoholic supporter-types are used to getting in there and fixing other people (at least, we think we do).  As my sponsors says, sometimes we just have to get out of the way and allow people the dignity of fixing themselves (starting with the choice of whether or not they wish to be fixed!)  So I’m forcing myself to stand back.  This doesn’t mean I feel vindictive toward my co-worker.  He’s normally a great member of the team and fully deserves my support.  But when suggestions and reminders don’t work, it’s often a sign that the individual is either not convinced that they have an issue, or that they don’t believe it’s getting in their way.  Sometimes they need the opportunity to feel the impact of their actions.  If we give them soft landings all of the time, they’ll never feel that impact and they’ll be correct when they demand to know why you think they have a problem when they’ve never seen it as such. 

That doesn’t mean support should always be about “tough love”.  This is more like “quiet cheerleading”.  I’m choosing to stand on the side, quietly praying instead of running onto the field, telling him how to live his life. 

And that’s what loving detachment is really all about – removing yourself from their solution and allowing them the space in which to heal themselves.  Yes, it may be difficult for them to do so, especially if we’ve seen them try and fail before.  But it’s their lesson to learn, not ours.

In reality, given both personalities, I bet loving detachment is far harder on us than it is on them!  But if you really care about them, you’ll find a way to change your own behaviors first.

We have plenty of good reasons for wanting to control them.  They may be temporarily incapable of looking after themselves, let alone others.   They may have been causing havoc with our lives, and we simply want to minimize the damage by limiting their ability to affect our world.  Or we may be craving the relationship we had with the old them – wishing with all of our hearts that this person would re-emerge and the world would be set right once again.   Here is why control doesn’t work in any of these three scenarios.

Alcoholics may not be able to look after themselves, but participate in any twelve stop program and you’ll soon realize that the cure doesn’t lie in allowing someone else to take responsibility.  They must recognize and admit their problems, and they must be accountable for their own recovery. Reliance on others only maintains their insobriety and turns us into enablers.  Enable an alcoholic and you are creating your own life sentence.

Alcoholics thrive in the chaos which they create for themselves and everyone within their sphere, including their families.  They can think nothing of taking you down with them as they crash to their bottom.  You do not want to go for that ride with them, so you might believe that removing their options and decision-making ability is for the ultimate purpose of protecting your family.  Do protect yourself and your family, but as long as you continue to make decisions for your alcoholic, you are enabling them.  As long as you enable them, they will not get well and in fact, will likely continue to decline.   Find the fine line between self-protection, and control of the alcoholic.

Perhaps you can see in your alcoholic remnants of the person you fell in love with and so desperately want them back that you believe if you take over their life for a while, you can will them back.   Often, the relationship we are attempting to preserve and protect no longer exists, because the person with whom we were in love is no longer there.  That doesn’t mean that there can’t be a relationship, or that you can’t love your alcoholic.  But controlling them is not the same as loving them; holding onto an old image does not make it come to life.  And consider the pressure you are putting on the other individual in that relationship.  An alcoholic is ill.  They are simply not able to be that old person you once knew.  But with love, support and motivation, they might be able to become someone you can love and respect again.  In fact, recovering alcoholics who have truly embraced their program can be some of the most sincere, honest, loving individuals you would ever hope to meet. 

Is there ever a time when control is acceptable?  Sure.  We all need support from time to time.  For example, if your spouse was injured, sick, or suffered a terrible emotional loss, they may need help while they physically or emotionally recovered.  This is compassionate and temporary, and is born of love and respect.  But  it is difficult for us to love and respect a spouse who is in a permanent state of this level of need.  And if they come to rely on us for this level of support, they will never have a reason to try to grow beyond where they are.

As you will learn if you continue to read this blog, the best thing you can do for yourself, your alcoholic and your family is to take the focus (and the control) off of the alcoholic and place that focus on yourself instead.  First and foremost ensure that you and your children are safe, and then focus on your own recovery and allow your alcoholic the right and respect to decide if they really want to heal and if so, allow them to do it. 

Honestly, would you really want to continue to be in a relationship with someone who was begrudgingly there?  Let them recover and be there with you because it is their choice to do so. 

 There are many, many relationships that survive alcoholism, where both individuals go on to lead much happier, healthier lives together.   My hope is that this blog, and my book, will gently lead you there.

Realizing they are mirror moments in the first step to dealing with them (in other words, try not to take it personally), but this can be hard when the words are mean.  So consider these suggestions:

• Have some compassion for the individual: they are obviously very sick and disconnected from you and their own reality to speak this way to someone they supposedly love;
• Defuse the intensity by using active listening to repeat back what they said.  It doesn’t mean you agree with it, only confirms that you heard them.  This might calm them down; or wake them up when they hear back what they just said;
• Neutralize the situation by saying things like “well, I’ll have to think about that” or “well, you’re certainly entitled to your opinion”;
• If you feel that the situation is dangerous, remove yourself from the vicinity.  You are not a punching bag.  You can be prepared to listen to what they have to say; but you are not required to accept it, beat yourself up in front of them, or be beaten (emotionally or physically) by them.

Bating an alcoholic is not going to be in your best interest; nor is enabling them.  So I keep my focus on taking care of me and not taking on the alcoholic’s “stuff.  One way I do this is developing rules or standards of communication that I expect and ask everyone, including my alcoholic, to adhere to.

Rule 1:  Treat people with respect; and expect respect back. 

Rule 2: Have reasonable boundaries and when those boundaries have been passed, let people know politely but firmly.

Rule 3: Be very clear with my communications so there will (hopefully) be less chance of misinterpretation, which can lead to disharmony.

Rule 4: Limit my information to what is needed.  There’s no point trying to have a detailed, feelings-filled conversation with someone who isn’t capable of going there yet.

Rule 5: Speak my truth.  If I have a (rational and logical) need that is not being met, I speak up: respectfully, succinctly, factually.   

Following these rules (and feel free to use only a few, or add your own) won’t automatically change the alcoholic; but if you persist with your own rules of communication, you will probably find that in time, you do notice a positive response from them.  While we can’t change others, we often find that positive changes in ourselves eventually result in shifts in those around us.

Beyond the environment, we also try to control the alcoholic by creating rules (which they constantly break),  insisting on methods of communication (which are forgotten or ignored), and watching for nuances in the attitudes and behaviors of our alcoholic (so we can predict and counteract their next moves).   There are times, especially when children are involved, where these strategies are necessary.  We need to ensure that we and our children are safe.   The problem is that too often, this way of living becomes the norm instead of the exception to our lives. 

This type of control is an emergency measure – its frequent use is not the sign of a healthy relationship.  And unlike some forms of healing, time will not help this situation.  As an alcoholic’s tolerance to alcohol increases, they need more of it to get the same benefit.  Their resulting attitudes and behaviours won’t improve, and they will likely decline.  The alcoholic is not in control. You are not in control.   The alcohol is in control. 

The only thing you can control is yourself.  The only person you can change is yourself.  And when one of us shifts, often the world shifts around us.

Most of us understand that a healthy relationship comprises two individuals who have decided to intertwine their lives at various points.  But they are still individuals with their own personalities, their own perspectives and opinions and often, their own activities and friends in addition to those they share with their partner.

Alcoholic and supporter relationships are usually not like that.  We are the Mobius strip – faking at individuality but really, living a single life that at certain points pretends to be more varied and diverse than it actually is.

We become co-dependent on the dysfunctional life of the alcoholic because it gives us purpose, value, the feeling of being needed.   So we continue to feed into the alcoholic’s addictive behaviors, even if they are no longer drinking.  It’s understandable why, in such a circumstance, the alcoholic may become hard-pressed to find the motivation to learn how to stand on their own two feet.

Both parties are better served by the concept of loving detachment: where the co-dependent decides that loving the alcoholic does not mean living their life with or for them, but beside them.  As a co-dependent, you might find that this transition to greater independence is not unlike the detoxification process for an addict.  It can be painful, and requires that we reach into our own souls to rediscover who we are.  It requires that we relearn to appreciate ourselves, to love ourselves.  We must find purpose within our own existence, rather than solely from our involvement in the accomplishments of another.

So while we’re on the math theme…a healthy relationship looks more like a Venn diagram: two circles side by side which intercept in the middle to form some common ground.