Codependency

I was asked by a friend to say something about codependency.  I’m not an expert but I can surely talk about my experience, hope and strength.  I think there is confusion on what codependency is but I personally define it as a cycle of enabling behaviors that does not allow the person I am enabling to take responsibility for their own feelings, behavior and life.  As a mother of small children I would run in to pick them up when they fell down.  Sometimes this was helpful and gave my child a sense of security and love.  At other times, I’d run in too soon and they wouldn’t start crying until I picked them up.  This taught them to feel sorry for themselves.  It’s easy when their small.  You catch on pretty quickly.  It becomes more difficult when they’re grown and many times others can see our enabling behavior before we can.

It becomes even more difficult when our enabling behavior is complicated with guilt over what we should and shouldn’t have done.  We want to rush in a rescue because we think it’s our fault our child is alcoholic or an addict or struggles with depression or whatever the case may be.

First of all, I have to say after raising five children that I don’t think it makes much difference what you did and didn’t do.  I have tried over the years to pound in certain lessons to my children which made no difference.  They’d still continue with the same behavior into adulthood.  There were other things that my children just intuitively knew without any direction.  My children have been some of my best teachers.  I’ve seen alcoholics come from good families and I’ve seen good kids come from addict parents.  I’m here to tell you, sorry, you didn’t have that kind of power.  You didn’t make your children fall or fail or drink or drug.  They are who they are.  They are each born unto their own.  What you say or teach or pound into them probably made little difference.  And I’m pretty sure all they really care about and all they remember is the love you show them and sometimes it’s the tough love that’s best.

With that being said, I struggle with this issue every day of my life.  I have a daughter who is an addict.  I don’t think I ever got a good night’s sleep when she was out there.  I gained 50 pounds and constantly worried.  I had a period of time when I couldn’t contact her because I would immediately lay into her about her lifestyle or nag her to eat.  There were a couple of years that I didn’t even know where she was living because she was on the run.  The day came when she decided to get treatment.  This is where the rubber meets the road.  It was carefully orchestrated and planned.  There was only a window of opportunity.  If I nudged too hard, she would rebel.  If I enabled, she would miss taking the responsibility.  There was a period of about two months that was pretty shaky.  She was in a women’s facility with about 12 other women and their children.  She wanted to come home, but the option was the facility or homelessness.  I did not have the skills or the resources, financial, emotional or spiritual to help her.  I knew she needed professionals and I somehow knew that with all the sobriety that my husband and I have that it wouldn’t be enough.  I had to decide early on that I couldn’t work her program.  I can’t tell her to go to meetings, or get a sponsor.  I was desperate for her to get better so I stayed out of it.

Sometimes self-preservation kicks in and I do the right thing.  Other times I struggle and try to tell my adult children what to do and what kind of help they need.  I want to control it and I want them to get help and get better in my timing.  I can’t take any chances.  I cling with desperation and give them whatever they want and tell them what they want to hear instead of what they need to hear.

I wish I could tell you that I am absolutely sane and have it figured out.  I’m not.  Eventually another alcoholic or my husband who has 26 year in the program points out to me that I’m giving too much.  I might see it or I might not.  I don’t have that figured out either.

I usually let go right before I’m ready to destroy my relationship with my child.  I think what I’m learning is that if it affects my sobriety in any way, my sanity or my relationships with my other children or my husband, I’ve gone too far.

It is natural as mother’s to want to protect our children.  It’s counterintuitive to push them out of the nest, but sometimes for their own sake and for ours we have to.  When I keep in mind that my job as a mother is to teach them to be responsible citizens that can take care of themselves and are independent from me, I do much better.  Sometimes the only way to learn is to make mistakes and I need to allow them to do that.  I need to give them the dignity of their choices.  We are told that “no human power could relieve our alcoholism.”  How can I then possibly cure my children of that or any other mental ailment?  They have to want to get better.  It’s time to turn it over to a power greater than myself.

My sponsor used to tell me that I needed to stay strong so that when my daughter was ready for help, I’d be able to help her.  That spoke to me and I took her suggestion.  Talking to another alcoholic saved me and it saved her.  She now has 3 years in the program and is coming upon 4.

I think I’ll make a phone call, just for today.

 

Good and Bad

I was thinking this morning about when I first started drinking.  I have five children. Four of them were asthmatic.  If I let them outside to play, they would come indoors wheezing.  My three year old grew whiskers as a result of the steroids he was on.  His face was pumpkin shaped.  I took at least one child to the doctor every week. My doctor and I saw each other so much that we were on a first name basis. The three year old had to have his blood tested every week.  I felt so bad for him that we went out for ice cream each time he had to see the doctor.  I was hoping he’d look forward to that.

I had three of them using a nebulizer to take their asthma medicine.  They had to take turns and the three year old would scream, “It’s not fair! It’s not fair!,” for the entire 15 minutes that he was using it.  I kept records like a nurse because they were all on 4 different medicines.  Yet they still wouldn’t get better.  If one of them contracted a cold, they’d all be on steroids which weaken the immune system and then it would start all over.  I was peddling as fast as I could, but it seemed my efforts to make my children healthy had sorely failed.  I was cooking health foods and reading all that I could to find any clues at all about why my children were so sick all of the time.  I had read every book about asthma that a lay person could read and it was all for nothing.

In the meantime, I was trying to home school my children, two of them were in diapers, two of them were teenagers and their father was never home.  He was working 90 hours a week which is how he coped, always fearing the ability to provide for such a large sick family.  I had my own problems with asthma and allergies and was extremely fatigued.

My doctor sent two of them to a specialist to see if they had Pulmonary Obstructive Disease.  After he examined them I asked if they had Pulmonary Obstructive Disease.

The doctor replied, “Oh God no!  You just need to make sure you give them their medicine as directed.”

I’m thinking, “Oh my God!  What more can I do?  He doesn’t think I’m giving them their medicine correctly?”

I was a faithful church goer for at least 16 years.  In that moment I had quit believing in God as a personal savior.  He certainly hadn’t saved me or my children and now the doctor is accusing me of not caring for my children properly.

I poured myself a glass of wine and lifted my glass into the air, “Here’s to you, God!!!”  Certainly, no lightening had struck.  What I did notice was that it was easier to get the dishes washed in the sink, I wasn’t bitching at my husband when he came home and I didn’t care anymore what the doctor had thought.  In that moment, I found the answer to all of my problems.  It was liquid courage.  It was “like the sun coming up in my belly.”  It worked for me until it didn’t anymore.

I am quite used to judging that something is good or bad.  My twelve step program helped me to just observe.  I have to admit after 11 years of sobriety and 14 years in a 12 step program I still judge everything in my life as good and bad.

But let me tell you what my family is like 19 years later.  The youngest child has no asthma.  The three year old that was on so many steroids that he grew whiskers, is an incredible trumpet player.  Because of his asthma, his air capacity is unbelievable.  I read all of the laymen’s books on asthma that I possibly could, so I went back to school for a degree in chemistry with an emphasis in biology.  I obtained the degree.  I work in a preventative health industry.  My health is amazing.  I’m now divorced and married to an amazing man that is home for dinner every night.  The other children that had asthma, struggle some with their asthma but steroids are rare.

By the way, the three year old is almost 21.  He remembers the ice cream and a chance to be alone with his mother but doesn’t remember his blood being taken every week.

You might say that is good.  You might even say that if it weren’t for those years of suffering I couldn’t have reaped the good that came out of it.

Just for today I’ve decided not to judge.

Saintly Mother

I struggle to form that adult relationship between myself and my children.  The youngest of five has been working her first job.  I still tend to give unsolicited safety advice.  My OCD kicks in as I give safety precautions to my children.  My kids range from 32 to 17.  They are old enough to know what is safe and what is not, but I always have in the back of my mind, “What if there is that 0.1% situation where reminding them would help?”  I have to caution them anyway.

Reactions vary with each child.  I have one that nods her head and goes about her business.  I have another that argues with me.

I have two forces that work against me, my OCD and my alcoholism, which are closely related.  As I try to “direct the show,” I notice that I become more agitated.  The child that nods politely agitates me because I don’t really think she’s listening.  The child that argues with me agitates me because I think he ought to be more respectful.  All of the sudden I find that I’ve lost my serenity.

I’m realizing that even if they commit some dangerous act that costs them their life, “it is not my will but thy will be done.”  But it is a matter of trust, trust in a higher power and trust in myself that I taught them everything they would need to know to live life.  To tell you the truth, some days I just don’t trust either.   My higher power seems too distance and I’m just not that reliable.  Most days when I look at my kids I see them through this shroud of images from their youth.  When I force myself to stand back I see that they are 6+ feet tall and I realize that “letting go and letting God” is as much for today as it was for the first day I got sober.

Anytime I’m in a state of agitation or my peace has been compromised, there is some aspect of recovery that I have forgotten to look at.  Alcoholism is the ultimate OCD.  I can tell myself that my OCD is at work, but in reality it’s alcoholism at its best.  I was directing the show, agitated with my children and the world around me, looking at the world as if it weren’t a safe place to live and not trusting my higher power.  When I put it on paper it sounds like a recipe for a drink, but in my head it sounded so sane and almost saintly.  “I’m the saintly mother that spends her days worrying and looking after my children.”

Maybe I should let my children worry about themselves, just for today.