My MO

While driving my husband somewhere yesterday, it occurred to me that in this whole year of recovery and struggling to pick up the pieces, learning to live and be healthy I have done a fair amount of lying to myself. You know that saying, 'fake it till you make it?' That is exactly what I have been doing. I never believed my husband when he said he was going to continue to go to AA, "because he wanted to", I thought it was his show for the court. I never believed him when he said he found a sponsor or that he really thought the steps could help him, I just kept wondering why he was trying so hard to convince me. I never believed he would stick to it and I never believed he would make it to a year without drinking. I was instead fully prepared to pack up my things and my children and head out on my own, once he fell. In fact, several times over the course of the year, in my fear and apprehension, in my panic I would undermine him and or myself by suggesting we split. It is so much easier to not have to see people you love in pain, that for me looking away has been my Mode of Operation.

I was the best cheerleader during this year mind you, never voicing my concern or worries or pessimism that he would make it 30 days let alone a year. I stood by cheering with my pom - pom's, going through the motions as I had trained myself over the course of our marriage to do, like any other codie not in recovery would do. I sat and waited for failure to occur. I even cancelled his health insurance upon him getting out of jail, I was just that certain he would fail. Over the course of our 20 year relationship, he had made so many promises and broken them that I was prepared for the same. I could not chance to hope for change or perhaps I just did not know how to after so long and so, instead I wrote him off as failing before he even had a chance to succeed.

Over the last year I told myself that I did not need an Al-Anon meeting to recover. I told myself that I did not fit in there, that I was not religious and that I felt uncomfortable in that venue. I told myself that I would and could recover on my own, in my own manner and fashion and I kept to my program and held myself to a standard that was tougher than I held anyone else in my life to. I was determined that I was not going to fail on my task of 'recovery'. But of course my task did not include learning about how people behave in dysfunction or recovery, how families need to be willing to embrace change and how the alcoholic needed to recover in addition to staying sober. Essentially, it is as if I was walking in the dark for the past year, stumbling around, tripping and falling; getting up with my hands outreached in front of me to feel again, before I bump or fall. I think my husband at least had a the advantage of a flashlight through the program, even if he did not work the steps until recently, he embraced the process while I looked on in the background hoping for him to fail sooner than later, because I had already put so much time into this sickness and life is short, right?

All day today, I have been thinking about why I would withhold trust or authentic support during this time when a loved one needed it and the only thing I can come up with is because, well, I could. Because that was the only power I had and I used it as a cover to protect myself for when he failed. Co-dependant much? I also see this behavior in my past dealings with my sister and her ex husband. When my sister was in pain I did not reach out to her, because I was in pain as well. But more than that I think I somehow put her up on some kind of a pedestal as being too good for dysfunction and therefore she was not capable of fucking things up. And when she did, I was unable or unwilling to throw salt in a wound that I felt was still pussing and throbbing so I looked away. Falling back on my MO while she was in her pain allowed me to ignore my own pain and disillusionment with the situation.

When my beloved dog, Boo died 2 years ago, my husband and I were rushing to the vet as it was apparent he was in serious condition. I remember looking away from him and out the window at one point, biting my lip and crying like a kid because I could not change the situation, his pain or mine. I just wanted to make the hurt go away, because it was hurting me to watch. After maybe one minute, I was able to do the right thing and I put my arms around him and embraced him, and he died in my arms. I have to believe that my minute of looking away in my family relationships has turned into years and I admit that my MO must change if I am to be a healthy person, if I am really to recover.