Codependent No More Workbook (11 page)

“I was wrong. The path I chose led me to becoming a strung-out junkie with an arrest record as long as my needle-tracked arms by the time I hit my early twenties. When I reached the Third Step, I’d already started crying ‘Uncle’ from all the pain inside. I’d become totally ready to surrender to whatever God had in store. Finally, I’d run out of myself and my will. If He wanted me, He could have me. Nobody else wanted anything to do with me—including myself. Running the show and functioning on self-will had driven me into the ground. I was more than ready to take the Third Step, so I did. Life continued to be what it is with extreme highs and lows. But from the day I first worked the Third Step in Alcoholics Anonymous and later followed that by working it again in Al-Anon, I learned that no matter what mountains appeared in my path, a way would be made for me to go over, through, or around them, and usually, I’d climb to the top. For whatever problems I had, the solutions I needed also appeared. The good part and the God part was that I could find this way without drinking or using drugs. But it took me more than a decade to get these lessons under my belt. I didn’t understand much while the learning process was going on.

“Years later, I became suicidal from my codependent behaviors and the consequences they created. Controlling, taking care of others, suppressing what I felt, obsessing about other people, and neglecting myself drove me into the ground again. I made the decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God again, this time in a different Twelve Step program.

“In AA, working the Third Step meant I’d be shown a way to get through whatever happened without using drugs. In Al-Anon, it meant so much more. It gave me permission to be good to myself. Alcoholics Anonymous taught us we shouldn’t say no whenever somebody in the program asked us for help. Al-Anon not only gave me permission to say no, but the program finally taught me how and gave me the power to do it.

“Al-Anon isn’t an easier, softer way, the kind the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous warns about. But it does involve a more self-loving way of living. I began to practice behaviors that helped me recover from codependency: feeling my emotions, speaking up for myself, setting boundaries and limits, and then enforcing them. The way or path through whatever happened expanded. Now I had room to feel emotions, including anger. While Alcoholics Anonymous cautioned us about feeling that emotion, codependency recovery encouraged it.

“Here’s another example of the differences in the Twelve Step programs. In AA, I interpreted God’s will for me to mean that I always took care of other people and forgot about what I needed and wanted. AA looked at self-will with disdain and disapproval. Al-Anon taught me that it was essential to trust myself. I learned that if something felt right to me, I could trust my impressions. Usually what felt right and good to me would be God’s plans for me, not some disobedient flurry of self-will run riot and acting out. What I had a passion to do would be my higher purpose. I wouldn’t be stuck trudging through some dreary life plan I found boring and repulsive. If I did my work, then my dreams, wishes, desires, and goals would be aligned with God’s purpose. I’d be one with my Higher Power. No more battling over wills.

“Once I redefined what turning my life and will over to God’s care really means, I realized I could trust what I wanted to do. If I actively worked the Steps, if I daily asked God for direction and guidance, I could then trust what felt right and good to me instead of thinking that anything that felt good to me was an inappropriate display of self-will.

“It’s not that AA disrespects people, or holds them and their desires in contempt. I’m not blaming the AA program. My codependency issues caused my confusion. They created my misinterpretation of the Steps. I didn’t like myself, didn’t trust myself, couldn’t feel my feelings, and saw anything I wanted as bad and wrong, until I began to treat myself with love and respect. When I addressed my codependency, God’s will expanded. I could break the dysfunctional codependency rules that say you can’t think, can’t feel, can’t take care of yourself, and can’t have fun. This divine will finally opened the gates to a rich and loving life, the one I’d been searching for all along.

“The AA program taught me that God is real. Codependency recovery taught me that I’m real and that I deserve to be loved. I can fully express the person I am.

“Throughout my life, I’d turned my life and will over to various uncaring men. That became a disaster. Then I turned my life over to the care of alcohol and drugs. That didn’t work well, either. It became brutal when I turned my will over to the care of a practicing alcoholic when I was in recovery for chemical dependency myself. What a mess! I spent most of my time wishing that one of us—either my husband or myself—would die. Sometimes I even counted the
days until I thought that might happen. In retrospect, I see that I was doing what trapped people do—fighting for my freedom. I just didn’t know how to go about it yet. But when I finally began working two programs, one for my chemical dependency and one for my codependency, that became the winning combination. Pieces weren’t missing anymore. I had God, myself, and the two programs I needed. That’s when life and recovery began to make sense.”

Mountain climbers use a term called
level of commitment.
True mountain climbing, not the step climbing I did in China, can be challenging and dangerous. It involves using all the tools available to find a path, sometimes scaling a mountainside that’s straight up and down. Sometimes people climbing a mountain don’t know much about the rest of the climb, how hard or easy it’ll be, but usually they have the experiences of others who have climbed before them to draw on, and those experiences help them.

Serious mountain climbers consider the challenges before they climb. They study the path, what others have encountered, and then, especially when they’re climbing with a group or another person, they state their level of commitment. When the going gets rough, if it should become dangerous, or if the weather gets severe, will they continue? Unless it becomes foolhardy and self-destructive, will they continue climbing? What will it take to make them stop the climb?

People put much preparation and money into climbs. They want to know that the other people in their group are at the same level of commitment that they’re at. On a scale of one to ten, with one being the least committed, how committed are they to completing the climb? Will they quit at the first sign of discomfort or problems—give up and go home? Or are they at a ten? Short of an avalanche or serious injury that prevents them from safely going forward, or weather conditions that make it unadvisable to continue, are they fully committed to the climb?

Over the years, I’ve known people in all different types of recovery programs, and I’ve seen different levels of commitment. “I’ll stay sober as long as it doesn’t hurt too much.” “I’ll continue taking care of myself as long as nobody challenges me, or I don’t face losing someone or something important.”

I can almost promise that life will test you on your level of commitment. You will come face to face with that one thing that could cause you to take back your decision to turn your will and life over to God’s care.

Know where you stand. Be prepared in advance. We work this program a day at a time. We can only be in the moment, and live today. But we can prepare for tomorrow proactively by knowing where we stand and how committed to recovery we are. When the test comes, which it will, we’ll have our decision to fall back on. We’ll know how committed we are to the climb.