How I Found Inner Peace

I am an adult child of an alcoholic family, married 21 years to an alcoholic who is now 37 days sober, have a 27 year old cocaine addicted son, and have been working through my recovery for co-dependency since 1991.

Today I feel inner peace. Yesterday I didn't, and tomorrow may be another one of those days. But, today is a day to be appreciated and enjoyed. It has taken a long time to achieve, recognize, feel, appreciate my times of inner peace. I vividly remember the day that I discovered the "way" to my own inner peace, and on days when everything seems out of control and I find myself falling back into old patterns of behavior, I remind myself of that day.

It's funny that when I first began therapy for stress control, I thought it would simply be a six week program and I would be cured. Well, it took about that long to find out that I was a complete mess. Oh, I went through all the periods of denial, blaming others, blaming myself, telling anyone who would listen how terrible my life had been, was, and would continue to be, angry at my parents, angry at my husband, angry with family and friends and co-workers about how they had taken advantage of me and everything I did for them, etc. I became so angry with my parents I stopped communicating with them. Our separation lasted seven years. It was what I had to do to get better, and it helped.

One day in January 1999, I found out that my dad was dying of cancer. It took a week of prayer and inner searching to figure out if I wanted to see him or not. I chose to see him and went to the hospital. With my guard up, I met with my parents and agreed to help my mother take care of my dad. Dad's cancer was wicked. Very aggressive and very rare -- so rare there was no clinical method for fighting it.

At first, my parents were bewildered with my boundaries. I wasn't the same person anymore and they didn't like it. I drove them to doctor visits, chemotherapy treatments, and helped my mother care for my dad. Although my parents and I were communicating again, we didn't discuss my reason for separating from them. Although they appeared to accept me, I was afraid that it was only because they needed my help, and I purposely avoided talking to them about my lifelong issues and triumphs with recovery. I kept my guard up and constantly reminded myself to be careful and strong. Dad was no longer drinking, but only because he didn't like the taste anymore, and mom was drinking enough for both of them.

I chose a day two weeks before dad died to finally talk with him about our issues. Although he was pretty much comatose from the morphine pump, I remember being so nervous. My hands were shaking and my stomach was flip flopping all over the place. I sat by his bed, held his hand, and bowed my head to pray. I apologized for hurting him with the separation and told him that I loved him. I didn't make excuses for him or myself, didn't tell him how abandoned I felt by him through out my life, or how I would spend a lifetime working on how his alcoholism had impacted my life. Odd, but when I said "I love you and I forgive you ....." I really felt it that time. Then the words turned themselves inward, towards myself and tears welled in my eyes -- I felt instant relief. I said the words again, and felt it again.

When you hear stories from survivors of near death experiences, they mention how their life flashes before their eyes. On that day with my dad, when I finally released him from my personal prison of collected heartache, and accepted my own love and forgiveness, my life flashed before my eyes. I felt complete, whole, strong, secure -- all the ways I wanted to feel the day I first started therapy for stress control. And then, **poof!** the inner peace was gone. I had felt it, and it felt good. But, why did it leave and where did it go? were the questions nagging at me for several years after.

It took a while, but I eventually realized that my personal prison of collected heartache was very large. It contained many many people, and many many experiences -- so many that I could not consciously remember each one individually. And there are days when I am triggered and I have to recognize the who what when where why and how of the trigger. Only then can I open up those heavy doors and release the inmate of my personal prison, accept the person or experience, forgive them and myself, and once again feel the sweet freedom of inner peace.

Oh, some hurts are so painful and I cling to them so tightly. I even sometimes worry who I will be if the day ever comes that my personal prison of collected heartache is actually empty -- which is silly to even contemplate, but I do it anyway. There are days when things are especially chaotic, red flags of all sizes bouncing around and coming at me from all directions, then familiar voices creep back into my head and I falter, or trip. Being surrounded by alcoholics, addicts and other co-dependents (some recovering, most of them active) contributes to the chaos and the opportunity to relapse. Then I recall something my dad used to say, "Other people may try to cause you unhappiness, but only you can choose to accept it." Wise words. And those wise words remind me of the day when I first realized the true meaning of love and forgiveness, and experienced true inner peace.

Today I feel inner peace. Yesterday I didn't, and tomorrow may be another one of those days. But, today is a day to be appreciated and enjoyed. Thanks, dad.