Crashing an Emotional Roadblock

For the better part of the last month I have been in a perpetual state of emotional torment. My emotions seemed to be in a constant state of conflict with my mind. I was wrestling with working my way through my first step in the program.

My mind had intellectually worked through the first step, but my emotions were still stuck in the mud. Despite my constant consumption of the literature and slogans I could not get my emotions to admit that my life was unmanageable.

For weeks I went through the gamut of emotions, from anxiety to fear to denial. I was anxious because I was asking myself to let go of my self-reliance. I was fearful because admitting that my life was unmanageable would indicate that I am weak. I was jealous of those that have come before me and successfully completed this step. I feared the loss of control that accepting that my life was unmanageable would entail. I got angry with myself for not being strong enough to admit my own weakness.  I was angry with the step itself for asking me to acknowledge my weakness. Well you get the idea. My soul seemed to be in some sort of chaotic overdrive.

I knew that I needed to find help. I needed to find someone that I could talk with to help ease me through the roadblocks that my emotional unease seemed to be placing on my road to recovery. For more than a week I would look at my cell phone, then I would look at the list of phone numbers that some of the members of my local Al-Anon group provided when I attended my first meeting. I knew what I needed to do. I knew that I had to call one of the members to ask for advice. I knew that I needed to seek out the assistance of someone that has been in the same position in which I had found myself. And despite this knowledge I could not do it. I literally could not pick up my phone and dial one of the numbers on my list. I was ashamed that I was not strong enough to do something as simple as pick up the phone to make a phone call.

Yesterday afternoon I wrote about roadblocks on my road to recovery. After writing that post I felt so much better. I could almost feel the courage flow into me as I wrote the words out. Immediately after publishing that piece I was able to summon up the courage to make the phone call that I needed to make. I spoke with this member for almost an hour. He helped me put into perspective that even though I felt that I had been struggling with the first step, that I had been making progress. We talked at length about a wide range of issues that may possibly have been holding me back, but he made one comment that floored me. He told me that just picking up that phone and calling him was admitting that my life had become unmanageable. The fact that I was able to overcome the emotions that were acting as a roadblock had caused me to emotionally acknowledge what I have known intellectually. I am grateful for the time that I spent on the phone yesterday afternoon with him. And I can promise that it will not be the last time I do so.

I am powerless over alcohol – my life has become unmanageable. 

I Am Made Of Scars

When I created this blog back in December I expected to be updating the content on a daily basis. As you can see, that hasn't happened yet. As it turns out, even though this a completely anonymous blog, summoning up the courage to expose my weaknesses for all the world to see is not as easy as I thought it would be. I have made a promise to myself that I will work hard to purge myself of all the detrimental habits and traits that have accumulated over my years of living with someone else's alcoholism. Now for the back story, how I came to be in the position that I am in. 

My early childhood was what most would consider normal. Both of my parents were very involved in my life. My father would coach my little league team. My mother would attend each and every game or event that I took part in. However this was not to last. In the late 80's my idyllic world was due to be shattered. It was then that my parents packed the family up and moved us to my father's rural hometown. 

We hadn't even completely unpacked when my father's alcoholism reared it's ugly head completely dismantling the perfect life that I thought we had. We hadn't been in our new home a few weeks when I saw my father intoxicated for the first time in my life. At first I thought it was funny watching my father stumble around running into almost everything. I had never seen him in this shape. 

The novelty of my father's alcoholism didn't last long. The bumbling, happy go lucky drunk was quickly replaced with a harshly violent and abusive drunk. We had only been in our new home a few months before he got violent. It started with my mother. If she made something for supper that he didn't want he would start throwing dishes, or anything else that he could get his hands on. For the most part in these early years he would leave myself and my siblings alone. He didn't get violent with us, instead he used something much more cruel, mental abuse. 

It seemed like nothing we could do would satisfy him. If we did well in school, he would tell us that we could do better. No matter what we did, it was not good enough for him. So I gave up. In my adolescent thinking, why should I care about how I did if he didn't either. We would be told that we were worthless. As bad as the violence was, the mental abuse was worse. 

It is only recently that I have come to realize that my experiences growing up have deprived me of my peace of mind. As I contemplated these experiences I came to the realization that my life was made by mental scars inflicted by living with an alcoholic. And I have now begun the process of healing those scars through the steps and concepts of Al-Anon. 

Welcome

I want to welcome you to Therapy of Anonymity. The predominant purpose of this blog is not necessarily for the benefit of those that read it. Instead, I intend to use this blog to help heal the wounds in myself from the effects of alcoholism.
Before you jump to conclusions, I am not an alcoholic. And I have never been an alcoholic. I am the child of an alcoholic that grew up with the ever present stench of cheap beer and liquor. I have finally come to realize the mental scars that growing up in that environment inflicted upon myself. Now I have just begun my journey to heal those old wounds in order to live a more fulfilling and peaceful life. It is my hope that through the musings and stories I post on hear that I will be able to cleanse my mind and my life of the poisons that alcoholism has left behind. If through my open exposure of my own weakness and failings I can help someone else come to terms with their own personal demons that would simply be an added benefit.
Also I would like to encourage you to leave feedback.