I'm so tired of being manipulated into feeling crazy by crazy people and then retaliating by trying to manipulate them into recognizing that they are delusional.
It's such a pointless waste of energy and spirit.

That is the best sentence I've ever read that totally describes my relationship with my ex A and his alcoholic family. very concise! Might actually need to be a al anon slogan as it seems to relate to a lot of us!!!

AlmostThere, I'm wondering why you stopped in the middle of your description.  Am hoping you're for real and finding help here.

Yay! Good for you!!!!!!!!

Almost there. I do understand that you are writing this posting as a continuing dialogue, so as newcomers can get to appreciate your experience.

Since you wrote the above segment a few hours ago and have not yet elaborated , I would like to clarify a few issues for the newcomer.



In order to deliver Al-Anon's primary message , the format of each meeting, usually outlines the purpose of the program , our principles and the format of the group meeting.

There are no leaders in the program, and the chairperson of each group is a volunteer whose term of service alternates from month-to-month or week to week. Since this is the case, the chair is not required to memorize the opening script and must read from a typed document.

Al-Anon is a "come as you are gathering". We do not have to dress in a certain way, speak in a certain way, nor look a certain way to be accepted . We are asked to leave what we are, including all our titles, outside the rooms and enter with an open mind to discover" who we are".

Keeping an open mind listening to learn, and eliminating judgment were a few very powerful tools that I developed just by attending meetings.

Looking forward to your next installment

Ok, I'm going to finish this now because I won't be able to do anything else until I do.

(continued)

So, what's next?  The Serenity Prayer.  Great.  I know the prayer.  Every one has heard it.  Everyone bowed their heads..."GOD grant me"...

Man, this felt like Sunday School.  Just what I was afraid of.  More disappointment.  More loneliness.  Why did I come?  I should have known.

Apparently it was time for "the reading" and there was some brief discussion on exactly what that reading was supposed to be.

They determined that it was supposed to be "story #1".  I'm not sure it was, and I got the feeling that it might have been chosen for my benefit.

"So in the big blue book on page [whatever] we'll just go around the room and read as much as you want then pass it to the next person."

Everyone got out their blue books and man, oh man, the feelings started flooding in - Sunday school, Sunday morning church, Sunday night church, Youth group, Christian Pioneers on Mondays, Wednesday evening service.  Bible school in the summers.  Having to sit around the dinner table after it was cleared each night reading the bible while I could see and hear all the other kids outside playing, all dictated by a rage-a-holic prick who would make me listen to a sermon every time I asked him ANYTHING; a paranoid hoarder who would go ape s##t over any perceived slight and get out the "board of education" because I was a sinner!  The man who always had to blame somebody for something even if it made no sense.  Remember the mother in the movie "Carrie"?  Picture her as a man, about 280lbs and make him mad as hell every day.  Have him beat you up and tear you down over and over again for years because that's what god has commanded him to do!  That's how you raise a child!

This was torture.  

The story was the one by the woman who's husband started AA and how she came about the realization that Al-Anon could satisfy a need for the families of alcoholics.

Now, I've read this story.  I looked into Al-Anon quite a bit before this.  For most people, this story is full of insight, revelations, common sense, soul-searching and answers.

For me, this story is one word repeated over and over again - god...god...god, god...god...god...god...god, god.  god...god...god, god.  god.

I winced each time.  I sat wringing my hands.  "pass".  "pass".  "pass".

After a lifetime it was over.  I wanted to leave, but I was trained not to do that.  It's rude.

I just stared at the floor.

So, now apparently, it was discussion time and the room went silent.  Someone might have mumbled something, I don't know.  By that time I was traumatized.

I was there to listen, but there wasn't much to listen to.  I don't know what I expected.  Maybe people raging about their A's, getting it all out.  

Something that would make me go "Yeah! that's right!  F those freakin' A's!"  Maybe we'd all do victory dances and primal screams, I don't know.

I was more than disappointed.  I was pissed.  I had finally gotten the nerve to go and it was all I hoped it wouldn't be.

So, as I usually do when I'm pissed, I had to speak.  

When I didn't come back I wanted them to know why.  Not that I was blaming them; I think that's what I wanted them to know.

I also wanted them to know that it wasn't because I didn't agree with or believe in the principles of the program.

And Ginny.  I knew her.  For some reason I especially wanted her to know why this wasn't going to work for me.

I started.  "Well, I didn't intend to speak tonight, but I gotta tell ya'll (remember, I'm in the south. I don't drawl when I write, but I do when I speak) that was torture.  I don't think I can do this.  Not because I don't think I have a problem, because I do.  Not because I don't believe I need help, because I do.  But ya'll gotta understand, that just hearing the word 'god' is a trigger for me.  This feels like Sunday school and I'm just over here shaking. I understand that you aren't defining god for me, and that I define my Higher Power.  I understand all that, but for ME, (and I stressed 'for me') I don't know what's worse, the disease or the cure!  This is like chemo and I feel more pain than I did when I came in!  And I'm not blaming you! I just don't think it's going to work for me."

I went on about my upbringing and used the example of a dog that's been beaten with a rolled up newspaper.  All you have to do is show him the newspaper and he'll start to tremble, like I was doing.

And they all listened.  They "have" to.  It's in the rules.  No cross talk.  I don't know how long I went on, but I had to get rid of the pain of the experience so far, and it took me a while.  I think I dropped one S-bomb, but that was it.

When I finally stopped talking, a number of things changed.

The first is that the room was no longer silent.  Most everybody had something to say.

John spoke up.  John looks to be about 70, but it may be 60 with a lot of miles.  John's been through a lot, you can tell.

"I understand, I was raised Catholic and I don't believe in that anymore so the HP for me is..."

I'm thinking "No dude, you don't understand. Unless the pope took his funny hat and beat you with it on a regular basis."

But John was kind, and was doing the best he could to help me.  He gave me his phone number.

Others piped up here and there, all trying to find some way around this for me.  

None of them had an answer for me, because they couldn't have one.  I had to come up with one if I wanted to attend the group.  

This was my problem, but they were more than happy to listen, and offer what they could.

I told them how much I appreciated their support.  And they encouraged me to keep trying.

The time was up and they all stood up.  I wasn't sure what was going on when they all moved forward and joined hands in a circle leaving a space for me.

I was still sitting and they were all looking at me, and I just said "Yeah...uh...no.  I can't do that." and they all laughed.

They said a prayer of some sort.  I wasn't listening.

The second thing that changed was me.  I felt better.  Better than I had felt in a while.  I had gotten a lot off my shoulders just then.

I had complained about something to a group of people and all they wanted to do was help.

They didn't blame me, yell at me, get mad at me, call me crazy, judge me, tell me I'm over-reacting, tell me to pray about it or ask me if I knew Jesus.

They didn't dig up something I may have done, or that they imagined I may have done in the past to try to convince me that I deserved the pain.

They just listened, and I'm here to tell you, man, that's a powerful thing.  That's God.  That's humanity.  That's compassion.  That's thoughtfulness.  Giving of one's self.

All things I never get from my chosen life-partner.

But I hadn't processed all that out at that time.  I was still ready to bolt out of the door.

It was social time, though and I felt I had to make my exit in a way that didn't say "get me the hell out of here".

And I would have had to be rude to do it because John immediately walked in my direction and started telling me one of the things I've heard before:

"When I see 'god' I just substitute my higher power," and I'm thinking "You still don't get it, but you're a nice guy and you're trying to help me".

One-by-one at least half of them came up to me and told me they were glad I was there, and to PLEASE come back.

70-something manicured woman came up to me and quietly said, "I had a hard time with that too.  I'm from California, and here (meaning in this town) everyone asks you what church you go to.  It's strange.  I think I'm the only left-wing Buddhist in the group.  At one group I've been to they all gather around and say the Lord's Prayer at the end.  I just don't say it."

Ginny, of course came and said "It's not always that preachy.  Just PLEASE come back and give it another try."

Dowdy-to-be didn't say anything.  I think I scared her.

When I got home I hung out with my kids for a bit and I was happier, more light-hearted, laughed more, smiled more.  Worried less.

My situation hadn't changed a bit, but I definitely felt better.

It's been two days and I've thought about it a lot.  Ok.  GOD.  GOD GOD GOD.  PRAYER.  MIRACLE.   wtf-ever.  I mean, what other words are they going to use?

"We will accomplish this by yelling into our toolbox every day"?  

They say "pray", "meditate", "read the book".  The word pray works for some.  The word meditate for others.  At least they have a choice of books, not just one.

I have to let this go.  I don't have to, but I want to.  I'm ready to go back to that group and see what happens.  If I survived that AND felt better, I can handle it.

Matter of fact I'm so ready that I went to a different group today.  My second meeting.  At lunch time in a CHURCH (cue screeching sound from The Omen).

I was the youngest one there, but this group was much livelier.  You could tell just by the energy in the room.  Maybe because it's mid-day.  I don't know.

I was getting a cup of coffee when in walks 70-something manicured woman.  Her name is Linda.

She came up and whispered "This group is way different from the other.  Lots of cross-talk.  Very un-traditional," and she was right.  

They were all laughing and smiling.  The reading was short and I don't think it even mentioned god.  It was just more like a conversation starter.

It seemed like a group of friends.  It was relaxed, but there was serious discussion about how to handle and approach issues.

There was warmth.  There is hope.  

At the end they all joined hands and said The Lord's Prayer.  I held Linda's hand.  I winced a little.  We didn't say the prayer.

-- Edited by almostThere on Wednesday 27th of May 2015 06:37:20 PM

I love this saying: take what you want and leave the rest behind. If you can try that for now, I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Pretty awesome story. You could (and perhaps SHOULD) write a book. I love the way you write and describe everything, in fact, I could totally relate to everything you wrote.

I feel like a hypocrite standing there saying the Lord's Prayer, and yet I do not think it is going to kill me.

It just makes me really uncomfortable.

I just want to say I loved reading your shares here, I am glad you are here at MIP with us, and you have helped me so much already! I can relate so much to many things you wrote, and really enjoy your tenacity. Sending you much love and support on your journey!

-- Edited by Breakingfree on Thursday 28th of May 2015 10:51:18 AM

Now I'm waiting for the next chapters in which you flesh out the characters - perhaps finding out that dowdy-to-be lives on a limited income because she's barely making it month to month and can't afford manicured nails and un-dowdy clothes. What I read that you found at the first meeting was acceptance of you as you are. Good job!

Interesting reading for sure; you have a gift.

However I find the description of someone at a meeting as "dowdy" upsetting and it makes me not want to go to meetings with guys in them really. It would never have occurred to me I might be judged on my appearance going to al-anon nor thought less of if I didn't meet a certain standard of flashiness.

Having said that I'm glad you went and that you are going back; good for you. I suspect you might get a great deal from this program.

You are absolutely right, and I'm glad you are pointing those things out. They need to be aired.

I will make a couple of quick comments:

95% of what I wrote took place exactly as written, and there are only a couple embellishments/obfuscations. But In writing it, there were a few points I wanted to make.

It is written 1st person through the eyes of a person in crisis. A person who has never been to Al-Anon, like me, does not enter into it as their best, enlightened, open-minded, comfortable, non-judgmental, accepting, healed self. That's important to note. That's the end that they are seeking and this is just the first baby step. They are likely angry, beaten down, defensive, hurting, isolated and lonely.

The point I was trying to make for people on the fence is that if you get to the point of desperation that drives you to go, DO NOT expect to enter a room full of people that on first appearance look like they will "get" you. They may look like people that you think you'll NEVER be able to relate to. That you don't have ANYTHING in common with. I walk in, a long-haired rocker freak wearing sunglasses, brooding, possibly unstable, blasting a band called "Rage Against The Machine." I'm immediately confronted with a person that reaches through my past, all the way back to my kindergarten years. 100% true. That happened just that way. The thing that offends you is actually the first embellishment. "Dowdy". Was she? Hell, I don't know. What's "dowdy"? She certainly wasn't someone for whom having the latest fashion is high priority or is certainly headed in that direction, and I'm NOT talking about attractiveness. I'm talking as someone who is screaming in their head and has been for as long as they can remember finally making that move to the place they heard that you could vent all this anger and pain and I walk in and this is what I see. A couple of middle aged, average, everyday woman placing books in chairs. If they had been men, I probably would have called them "bumkins" or "average Joes" or something that would have made the men here upset, but they weren't. They were women.

Second embellishment: "stilted monotone". Was it? I couldn't tell you, because at that point all I could hear was my own head. Reading about the program is business. It must be handled. That's the way the world works, but a person in crisis may bring delusion, a bad attitude, anger, confusion, all of the things we are trying to rid ourselves of - to their first meeting; and when they are so bad off that possibly having a meltdown in a room full of strangers is an option - you can bet it sounded like a stilted monotone that lasted a lifetime. If she had read them cheerfully and in a lively manner, I probably would have said it was a "taunting sing-songy lilt" or something like that.

Third embellishment: Linda isn't 70-something. My first impression was that she was, because I didn't have my contacts in, I had sunglasses on, and puffy eyes and her size and mannerisms as she walked in were the spitting image of a woman I have known for years who is in her late 70's. She is however someone who clearly pays attention to style (not dowdy) and is indeed well manicured. Ok. So? She's also an absolute sweetheart and one of my favorites so far. She really is a Buddhist, and really was at both meetings. And I really did hold her hand and it really did feel great.

You don't want to go to meetings with men because one of them may label you as "Dowdy" in his own mind?

You know you're worth WAY more than giving that a second thought and it happens all the time anyway.
Women do it to men too, and to other women. Men do it to women and to other men.
You make a set of observations and you politely call them a "first-impression" and once you actually engage with a person, only then can you begin to define the characteristics that make them unique. The issue is whether you tip the scale one way or the other as to that person's VALUE from that first impression.

"Dowdy". It's the opposite of "Stylish". I guess that makes me a dowdy man 'cause I buy all my clothes at the thrift store.
And one of the reasons I first was attracted to my wife was cause she was dowdy too.

I hate these kind of things, where one person considers it an observation, and another considers it a judgment. And I truly am sorry that it upset you.
I guess you might say I'm dowdy on purpose, because the people whom would judge me for being dowdy - I want them to make that judgement right away and keep on walking!

As I reflected on this posting and his initial impression of the folks in the Al-Anon meeting, I began to think about how courageous and accepting all the people in all the Al-Anon meeting rooms must be in order to have an open door policy. This policy requires that the rooms are open to anyone that feels they have been affected by the disease of alcoholism.

This means anyone can walk in, in whatever state of anger, resentment, self-pity and fear they find themselves. They do not have to be screened or scanned to be allowed to participate and they accepted with open arms and open hearts. I can remember one gentleman who would walk-in full of anger and resentment and exude hostility -- many members left the room when he arrived because they cannot handle his energy - he was allowed to stay Today he enters filled with serenity -Where else would this be possible?

I am proud to be a member

All right, I will try to state this a little bit more honestly.
I wasn't personally injured by your descriptions of the people you found at your al-anon meeting and it didn't really make me feel concerned about being judged or deter me from going to meetings.. To be plain and simple, i just found it unkind and it bugged me. It played on my mind and I felt angry about it and after composing quite a few different versions of what I wanted to say, I settled on the gentlest version I could think of, which was probably too obtuse and was to suggest that I had personally been affected by it. I tend to over-empathise with people when I feel as though they have been mistreated and I really felt sad for your "dowdy-to-be" who I am sorry, is a real person giving service to al-anon and I feel it is disrespectful and unkind to label her in an al-anon internet forum as you have described her.
You would be very surprised to know how many al-anon members read these forums; I live all the way down in the underworld in a small town in Australia and I have had a member at a local meeting hear my share and recognise me from my postings here on MIP. You just don't know. She could be a member of this board and just as LMH said, she might be low on funds, she might be feeling poorly about herself or she just might recognise herself from your share. However you intended it, it might be hurtful to the person you were talking about and I didn't like it.
Also, I don't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, I just felt I needed to speak up and ask you to be a little more kind and respectful to the people who share your meetings. They are real people and they are what make up this amazing organisation.