Secrets

I remember hearing in the rooms of Al-Anon that we are as sick as our secrets. “Until we let them out into the light, they keep us trapped.” Found on page 46, of Courage To Change, my first Al-Anon reader I purchased. It made me pause, to begin an inner excavation that I am prompted to do often for those shadow parts of myself that result in my feeling ashamed, disappointed and believing that I need to cast them off, rather than understand that this is part of the human experience to have all of these aspects of oneself and how to invite them all to the table, rather than trying to keep the door barred.

The most curious thing about these aspects of me I am discovering are that everyone has these uncomfortable parts of self that once named and shared often lose some of their potency and power.

All the energy it took me to keep these aspects of myself hidden away, trying to control them, only made them want to sneak out more when I let my guard down and was not on constant vigil. It often felt exhausting. My lips would be moving and I could not even believe that I had said “the thing” in the way that I had. Wasn’t that neatly tucked away with the door sealed shut and the key in my pocket last I checked?

As a young woman and mother, I suffered greatly with debilitating PMS and for those who think it’s made up, believe me it isn’t. For only about two weeks out of the month I didn’t feel as if some kind of alien invasion had overtaken my body. No doubt there are many herbal supplements and remedies that are known of now which could have provided the necessary relief I was seeking. Every three months or so I would feel so edgy, impatient and I know this was really hard and a slippery slope for my two children to navigate. On one occasion when they were very young, they recommended I put myself on “time out” and they were right. I could not continue on this downward spiral of feeling so out of control with my whacky hormones and needed help.

I began discussing this with other women and discovered I was not alone, others lost it too and said things they were so ashamed of and couldn’t believe they had. I felt as if I often used all my patience with my students in my classes and was out of juice at the end of day and didn’t have it to offer to my own.

Thankfully, I was able to bring this out into the light, seek help, make my amends and the one who has had the most difficult time with the acceptance of the amends is always me. Being hard on myself does not create fertile ground in which to grow myself, so I keep picking away at those weeds that can begin to take a choke hold if I’m not aware.

Addiction found its insidious way into our family and it was something that I simply could not stuff down or keep locked away for long. I needed help with my part in our family disease and Al-Anon became my safe haven every Monday evening for years. I could say what was in my heart and always there were nods of understanding and often after meetings others would seek me out as I would them and we’d share. Some of my most courageous moments resulted because I had heard how another had navigated a similar experience and I had a foundation of knowledge about the disease of addiction and was able to separate my qualifier and their essence from the disease.

Now, when people ask how our son, Douglas, shed his earth suit I can say it was because of the disease of addiction. Those words could not always be uttered easily because I was so fearful of feeling judged for being a bad mom because a good mom would not have allowed her child to become entangled into the depths of addiction. I soon learned that I was never that powerful, nor am I today, and that my son’s path was his. No matter how I wish the outcome had not been what it was I could not have prevented any of it. This has taken years to wrap my entire self around and I can still take myself out behind the woodshed for floggings, yet when I do, I’ve learned to stop and ask myself what is going on within me? There is a conversation to be had within myself and if I feel stuck I take it to one of my go to people with the hope of parsing it out and reframing. Often I need to hear myself into healing and cannot do it in isolation as the answers are often found within myself.

Still today I am finding that in my sharing whatever the thing is that causes me to recoil and want to cringe as I remember, creates common ground for me to meet others on as we share what keeps us tossing and turning at night. What can feel like my kryptonite when I am trying to keep it hidden and tucked away, has become my strength and road back to my healthiest self when I am able to bring her out and say, “Here she is.”