acoa sanctuary Community Group
The softer side of growing up in a dysfunctional home... a sanctuary to feel home with friends and never alone.
I missed the last couple of Al-Anon meetings. We were out of town two weeks ago. Last week, we were involved in our church's annual "Great Day of Service," where hundreds fan out into the community and do service work in all kinds of different projects. We were part of a group that went to spread mulch at Eagle Ranch, which is a place for kids from broken families. Their approach is to treat the entire family - the kids may live on property for 6 months-two years, but family members are counseled as well, with the goal of breaking the chain of dysfunction. Long story short, it felt really good to be doing service work at a place that is devoted to recovery!
Anyway, it was good to be back in a meeting this past Saturday. Our topic from Step Four this week was: "Do I feel sorry for myself? Do I drown in self-pity? Have I ever felt like a victim? What was my part in it?"
I shared that I can approach these questions from two perspectives: from my life before recovery, and since I began recovery.
Before recovery, self-pity was a way of life for me, my default operating mode. So was feeling like a victim. In fact, my part in it was in maintaining a self-perpetuating cycle of victimhood and self-pity by going through life with a "Kick Me" sign taped to my back. After all, my experience growing up was that those who claimed most to love me abused me, so that was my "normal." I invited abuse, I perpetuated abusive treatment...yet the fact that I felt sorry for myself indicated that somewhere deep inside, a part of me knew that something was indeed wrong.
Since recovery, I have learned to take off the "Kick Me" sign, so the chain of abuse has been - if not broken - at least given some sturdy blows with a chisel. (All too easily I can revert to the old passive-aggressive behaviors that I used to employ if I'm not mindful.) I can still engage in a pity party from time to time, but that has actually become part of my toolbox now, and is a needed part of processing things in my life that have finally had the cover of denial peeled away. The difference is that today I can set a time limit on the pity party, and I can use one of the most awesome tools ever - the gratitude list - for bringing an end to a given pity party.
I feel as if I need to add a postscript to my opening paragraph. Eagle Ranch, and places like it, offer recovery to youths who are in trouble with the law or at school because they have been "acting out" or externalizing their family dysfunction. Many residents are referred there by the legal system. Thank God these places exist and offer a way out of dysfunction for entire families. But what about those kids out there who are like I was, who internalize their family dysfunction by "acting in" and therefore may not be troublemakers but still troubled? Where are there programs and facilities to help them? Where is the screening and identification? Much, much too often, nobody knows of the suffering of these persons until they read about it in a suicide note.
Anyway, it was good to be back in a meeting this past Saturday. Our topic from Step Four this week was: "Do I feel sorry for myself? Do I drown in self-pity? Have I ever felt like a victim? What was my part in it?"
I shared that I can approach these questions from two perspectives: from my life before recovery, and since I began recovery.
Before recovery, self-pity was a way of life for me, my default operating mode. So was feeling like a victim. In fact, my part in it was in maintaining a self-perpetuating cycle of victimhood and self-pity by going through life with a "Kick Me" sign taped to my back. After all, my experience growing up was that those who claimed most to love me abused me, so that was my "normal." I invited abuse, I perpetuated abusive treatment...yet the fact that I felt sorry for myself indicated that somewhere deep inside, a part of me knew that something was indeed wrong.
Since recovery, I have learned to take off the "Kick Me" sign, so the chain of abuse has been - if not broken - at least given some sturdy blows with a chisel. (All too easily I can revert to the old passive-aggressive behaviors that I used to employ if I'm not mindful.) I can still engage in a pity party from time to time, but that has actually become part of my toolbox now, and is a needed part of processing things in my life that have finally had the cover of denial peeled away. The difference is that today I can set a time limit on the pity party, and I can use one of the most awesome tools ever - the gratitude list - for bringing an end to a given pity party.
I feel as if I need to add a postscript to my opening paragraph. Eagle Ranch, and places like it, offer recovery to youths who are in trouble with the law or at school because they have been "acting out" or externalizing their family dysfunction. Many residents are referred there by the legal system. Thank God these places exist and offer a way out of dysfunction for entire families. But what about those kids out there who are like I was, who internalize their family dysfunction by "acting in" and therefore may not be troublemakers but still troubled? Where are there programs and facilities to help them? Where is the screening and identification? Much, much too often, nobody knows of the suffering of these persons until they read about it in a suicide note.
That sense of frustration and powerlessness and injustice is something I shall never forget. I craved the care and love and healthy boundaries that those children who were acting out got from workers such as those at Eagle Ranch. I felt invisible.
I truly identify and thank you for sharing about it. Once again, it is a huge comfort to not feel alone with these feelings. To not feel weird and like an oddball.
We had snow today and it looked beautiful. I thanked God for the beauty of it. It was a moment of joy in a a very difficult time.
((hugs for you)))
Karen.
I forgot to share an absolute gem I heard in my meeting Saturday: "Our families of origin are so good at pushing our buttons because they helped install them! Part of our job in recovery is to move those buttons so it's harder for family members to find them." Priceless!
Only once did I try and tell others. I went to a private grade school and once told a nun what was going on, she grabbed my hand and we went to see the priest and I told him the same story and we prayed and that was it. I was like nine years old... I needed more then prayer
A day later I called the cops after my dad nearly burned my mom's eyes out with a cigar. The cops talked to mom and she wouldn't press charges... back in that day there was no laws about domestic violence so the cops left and I got hit for calling them...
After that as a child I never told anyone ever again...