Finding Myself - the Journey

Most people know who they are before they hit the age of 40. I'm still searching.

I first learned the term "adult child [of an alcoholic]" in 1997 when I was in therapy after finding my then-husband in bed with another woman. My therapist suggested a book on the subject and I read it, cover to cover in one day--and was overwhelmed. I wasn't ready. I could only deal with one thing at a time--and my marriage was failing. A couple of months later we separated, he continued to see the other woman, I started divorce papers... then I found out my father had pancreatic cancer. Divorce and death in the same year.

Fast forward twelve years. After a year of "dating adventures", I found myself in a desperate place. I was distraught. I cried most of my waking hours and the number of hours I slept was drastically increasing. My life had become unmanageable. I wanted out. I wanted a new life. It was one year ago in March when I went to my first Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) meeting. It was then I heard the "ACA 12 steps" and "The Laundry List." It was then I began to see myself more clearly. It was then I began to heal.

"The term "adult child" means that we respond to adult interactions with the fear and self-doubt learned as children. This undercurrent of hidden fear can sabotage our choices and relationships. We can appear outwardly confident while living with a constant question of our worth." (taken from the ACA "red book" by ACAWSO)

After going to my first ACA meeting, it was as if a whole new world opened up to me. For the first time in my life, I was awake. I could see. Although chaotic, my life made more sense. I had answers. Answers about the choices I made; the jobs I have; the emotions I feel; my thoughts; my relationships, especially with men... everything was clear.

It was then I started to find myself.

(I must digress: the original blog was nearly complete when a computer glitch deleted everything but the first two sentences. I'm still irked by it, however, the deletion now allows me to go in another direction, so maybe, as I believe, it happened for a reason.)

Abandonment.

Abandonment is at the core of everything for me. If I only knew then what I know now...
I remember a couple of very telling dreams I had when I was about 14 years old. In the first dream I was kidnapped and thrown into the trunk of a car. Inside I had paper and a pen and I was drawing smiley faces on the paper, ripping it & throwing it outside, leaving a trail of smiley faces behind me in the hopes that my mother would follow the trail and find me. I woke up the next morning and told her about the dream; I expressed fear that she wouldn't be able to find me because she wasn't aware of the "special" smiley face I drew.

The second dream had a more obvious sign of abandonment. In this dream I was walking home from school. Once I got there I found the house empty. Empty and quiet. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I walked into the house in disbelief. They moved away without me.

Abandonment means more than being left alone. It can take many forms. Being left alone is the most obvious. It can involve parnetal perfectionism in which the child's behavior never measures up. Parents abandon their children when they fail to praise or recognize a child's effort to please the parent. Instead, as my father was, parents are quick to criticize and correct "bad" behavior. My "bad bahevior" was being a child. Talking wasn't accepted. Laughing wasn't good either. Nor was running, especially in the house. And slamming doors? Absolutely not. Quiet was what he wanted. Silence. In fact, I recently shared a story about watching home movies as children. We didn't have sound on our movies, so my brother and I would talk and laugh while we watched the films. My father would get angry and tell us to be quiet. Quiet. That's what I learned to be when I was around my father. Quiet. If I wasn't, I'd get yelled at...or worse. He'd be angry. He was always angry with me. I was never quiet enough. I wasn't good enough. I was bad.

Abandonment. As a child you learn to adjust. You learn to be quiet. You learn to avoid your father. Instead, you read; you write; you go to a friend's house; you play outside. You learn to people please. And in the process, you lose yourself.

By being a people pleaser, you avoid criticism. You avoid abandonment. You believe you won't be abandoned if you are "nice" and if you don't show anger. You will do anything to not be abandoned. You avoid learning who you are...and you hurt yourself and your relationships.