Finding Myself, part 3

Finding Myself, part 3

The ACA "red book" says that as an Adult Child of an Alcoholic, we have great difficulty accepting love. This isn't a shaming statement or a prediction of doom. As children and teens we were not given a true or consistent example of love. So how can we recognize it as adults? I struggle with this a lot, and to be clear, I'm referring to ALL types of love. I constantly wonder why people would bother to love me. What's lovable about ME? I can easily and very quickly name 100 things that are wrong with me. But can I name even half that number of things I not only like, but LOVE about myself. I doubt it.

The "love" I learned from my parents was really codependency. Codependent people tend to focus on the wants and needs of others rather than their own. By doing so, the co-dependent or Adult Child can avoid his or her own feelings of low self-worth. Wow. This completely describes me! I'd much rather focus on other people, help them with their problems, listen to their stories than work on myself. The book further says, "A codependent focuses on other and their problems to such an extent that the codependent's life is often adversely affected. In addition to emotional suffering, codependents can suffer from serious or chronic physical illnesses" (i.e. stomach problems, severe headaches, insomnia). I often have migraines and I could sleep all day long if I didn't feel guilty for not doing anything!

By attending ACA meetings "we realize we could not have reacted another way given our dysfunctional upbringing. As children we focused on the odd or neglectful nature of our parent's behavior. We mistakenly thought we caused their moods or attitudes or could do something to change circumstances." (pg 7)

I remember *that* clearly. As I've said before, I didn't know my father was an alcoholic until I was in college. He didn't slur his words or stumble around the house drunk like you see in the movies. Regardless, I was afraid of him yelling at me for anything. I was always extra quiet when he was home. If I walked into the house after an exciting day with my friends and I forgot to come into the house quietly, I was greeted with, "Here comes 'big mouth,' there won't be peace around HERE anymore!" As a child of an alcoholic I took responsibility for my father's feelings and poor behavior. If only I wasn't so loud... If only I stayed outside longer... If only I came home earlier... If only I was a better daughter... If only...

By living this way (as many ACA do) I developed a dependent false self that constantly sought outward affection, recognition, and praise, but secretly believed I didn't deserve it. Unfortunately not much has changed for me in this regard. I'm working on it, but I am finding it difficult. When you're called names throughout your childhood, by a parent no less, how do you let that go? When you're told something enough, you believe it... The answer is to replace those hurtful words from a sick man with positive words. Sadly, that's more difficult than I thought it would be. For 40 years I've had Negative Nelly in my head and she's quite comfortable; she's familiar with the territory.

The book also says that, "Many adult children arrive at their adult years with an over-developed sense of responsibility, which they communicate as love or nurturing care. This behavior is a disguise to get the love we never received as children. Before recovery, many adult children had relationships in which they thought they were in love with another person. In reality, they were trapping or manipulating that person to extract affection. This behavior creates the response we fear the most -- abandonment." (pg 7)

On Friday night my friends and I were discussing a male friend I've been talking to, and one of them said something like, "[He] adores you! And it's not that he just wants to sleep with you because if it was, he wouldn't still be around. You need to accept that he adores you and let him. Stop trying to control the situation by denying that he adores you. Unless you let go, become vulnerable to getting hurt, be vulnerable to [him], you won't know what it feels like to be adored. You are closing yourself off to a wonderful experience." Intellectually I know she is right, but it was confirmed on a deeper level--my soul knew she was right--because tears filled my eyes.

I can't lose control.
I can't let go.
I don't know how to let go.
I'm afraid to let go.
What's going to happen if I let go?
What if I fall...
What if I fail...
What if I never recover...
My world is filled with "what if's..."

Intellectually I know that I am a dependent personality who is terrified of abandonment. I know I will do anything to hold on to a relationship in order not to experience painful abandonment feelings. I know that this illusion of being in control is not effective. And yes, I am aware that this stems from what I received as a child from living with a sick father who was not there for me emotionally. I KNOW these things. But knowing and FEELING are not the same thing. How do I let go? I hear people say, "Let go and let God," but I don't know HOW to do that. I believe in God. I believe in a loving God. I pray. I also believe that everything happens for a reason and there are no mistakes, just learning opportunities. BUT... how do you turn your will and your life over to the care of God? *That* is my question for you.

(As stated, some portions of this blog were borrowed from the Adult Children of Alcoholics "red book")