Escaping the attraction of abusive alcoholics: How I got better

In the backwoods culture of the East Tennessee Mountains, there were two groups of
people: The respected members of the community worked hard, kept vigil over their
homes, and attended church every Sunday. The others were the poor souls bound for hell
and damnation, lost to the rot and ruin of corn liquor and sinful living.
Looking back, Iâ??m pretty sure the dividing line between the two groups was determined by
who was best at keeping secrets. My familyâ??s secrets were well-kept.
I have pleasant memories of growing up. My dad worked hard all week, wrote songs, played
his guitar, and sang with the choir on Sunday. We marched off to church, me happy in my
youthful ignorance and Mom with her daily dose of pills, following Dadâ??s leadership
respectfully.

I just knew I would have the perfect life. I couldnâ??t wait to grow up.
Before I left high school, our school bus driver convinced me to marry him. I wanted to
move to the city, have my own life, and live the perfect dream. He was the answer I had
been looking for.

The marriage failed after 20 years and two children. Nothing had prepared me for the
shock of losing my husband to another woman.

I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and shame. I tried to fight for myself. After all,
he was the one who had done wrong. I had been perfect.

After the divorce, he got the other woman and I got the cold reality of no income. I
learned to survive.

I turned my house into a seasonal restaurant for tourists who thought of our mountains as
a vacation paradise. I made money serving home-cooked food and smiling until my face
ached. I was too busy to notice the pain.

One day my rescuer came walking in the door. I took one look at that charmer and knew I
could turn him into the man of my dreams.

He told me how sexy I was. Life was going to work out after all! We were married.
Seven years later I was running for my life. The beatings and bruising turned into chasing
after me with a loaded gun and threatening to burn my house down if I even looked at
another man. I never knew what would set him off.

After he calmed down, Iâ??d get flowers.

My obsession became â??whatever it tookâ?? to make the man happy. I started following him
around, watching him flirt with other women, kissing them right in my face. If I said
anything, Iâ??d get another beating.

One night I was staring at my rage-filled face in the mirror; I didnâ??t recognize myself. I
had lost my mind, fighting with him and pulling his hair.

The law officers advised me to leave before he killed me. I packed a few things and
headed west. My hard work, my restaurant, my life, my burned-out homeâ??it was all gone
and I was broke.

A good friend suggested I attend some Al-Anon meetings. She had seen my black-and-blue
body, my shame, and my pain.

I took her suggestion to heart and walked into a group of complete strangers who helped
me turn my life around.

After attending three meetings a week and crying my way back to some semblance of
sanity, I decided I could go home. My life was in shambles, but I finally had some selfrespect,
courage, and hope.

My husband had divorced me and married someone else. At least that was in my favor.
I knew I could handle my life now. But it took yet another dance with a charming abuser to
teach me to stop blaming the alcoholics and turn my attention to why I kept repeating the
same life lesson.

In working my Fourth Step, Iâ??ve been facing the long-kept secrets of my family tree. A
few brave family members are willing to drag the skeletons out of the closet for the
benefit of truth and understanding.

Itâ??s a painful journey for me. Iâ??m working it out as best as I can.
Every day Iâ??m up early reading my Conference Approved Literature, finding more truths
about myself, and learning to accept myself and my journey without guilt or shame. Iâ??m
finding my way. Iâ??m no longer trying to play God in anyoneâ??s life, certainly not my own.
Today, I have a one-day-at-a-time goalâ??serenity and peace, not so much drama and
excitement.

Iâ??ve been a grateful member of Al-Anon for 13 years now. I belong with people who enrich
and encourage my life.

I have finally found the missing links in the spiritual foundation of my life: my Higher
Power and the love of my Al-Anon family.

By Marcia H., Tennessee
The Forum, January 2009
reprinted with permission of The Forum