Revolutionary Love

For the past four months or so, I have been supporting a long-time friend through a major crisis in her life. I have been happy to be there for her, especially now that my work life is flexible enough to be able to participate in late night phone calls and now that my own nervous system is calm enough to allow me to show up for her with patience and thoughtfulness. One day though, I was taken aback when I heard her voice full of disdain when she told me about a friend of hers who is having trouble with housing due to major trauma in her life and the fact that she has been using alcohol heavily to cope. It was the alcoholism that seemed to disgust her most.

“I just can’t have that in my life right now,” she said, sensing my disappointment in her. 

I get that. I am guessing that sentiment may feel true for many of us when faced with someone in need who we could help, “if it wasn’t for ____ (fill in the blank).” We all have to make choices for ourselves about what kind of help we can offer, how much, etc. Just as I urged my friend recently, I urge the rest of us to take a hard look at what is really possible. What can we do? Big, small…it doesn’t really matter as long as it’s delivered with love.  

The OnSurviving conversation guest this month goes above and beyond what most of us would consider doing. I hold him in near-saintly regard because of what he does, especially since I know he faces significant struggles in his own life. In this article, I want to share a story about what it can feel like to receive such wonderful gifts.

When I look back at the most devastating points in my life, I see an array of heroes who made all the difference in the world for me. Sometime, I will tell the stories of the people who showed up for me in the wake of my daughter’s death - from my parents driving halfway across the state to care for me to all the donations that poured in to help with mental health care and lost work time to another parent who organized all the donations and facilitated funeral and memorial arrangements and more. In this article though, I want to focus on another set of heroes - the ones who showed up when I had virtually nothing left, after I couldn’t put on a brave face anymore, as my relationship to booze was out of control and had left my life unmanageable.

Stumbling Toward Ruin 

I had been hiding my struggles pretty well for years, but fissures began to appear in my brave guise. A few people mentioned noticing that I was a bit off and asked if I thought I had a problem with drinking. A friend said she could see I was drunk at an event and that it was embarrassing; she told me to go home, and I did. Feeling sorry for myself, I probably drank more there too. The fact that I can't remember makes me pretty sure that's true. Worst of all, an employer said that I would need to be on probation if I wanted to continue working there; I quit instead. 

No one at that time talked with me about why I was drinking or offered me any help beyond admonishing me to clean up my act, so I would be less of a problem for them. That’s how these interactions seemed to me anyway. Mind you, I am an alcoholic, so my view is likely skewed, and I now think having the courage to raise substance misuse concerns with our loved ones, even if clumsy in the approach, is heroic in its own way. Still, at that time, I felt misunderstood, judged, and ashamed, and those efforts prompted me to dive deeper into hiding rather than turn toward healing. Maybe that's just how any efforts would've felt at that time because it was helping me more than it was hurting me.

Eventually, I began to feel physically like I couldn’t handle drinking much more. My liver hurt - I’m talking stabbing pains in my side. I felt sick all the time. My hair was thinning. My fingernails were flimsy and peeling away. I made a quiet effort to quit drinking, telling only my partner and doctor about it at the time. 

That period of abstinence was short-lived, and after I started drinking again, everything became ten times worse. I no longer had my own home, withdrawal symptoms disrupted my sleep every night, and it felt like my veins were flowing with more alcohol than blood. I felt lost, disoriented, and teetering on the edge of total ruin. 

Gifts for That Made a Difference 

One night at 2am, in total despair, all I could think to do was call an old friend. I told her what was happening. She listened, and then she told me a bit of her experience, strength, and hope since she had gotten sober recently. Toward the end of our call, she advised, “Get online, find the first AA meeting near you in the morning, go to it, and do what they say.” I did exactly what she said. Through her patient listening and on-point guidance, I felt heard and understood. I'm not sure if she knows it, but I see her as a pivotal hero in my life. I don't know what my life would be like today if she hadn't answered her phone at that obscene hour.

One of the toughest parts of what came next - admitting my problem and beginning the recovery process - was the shame I felt. I felt weak. I felt like a failure. I felt worthless. I believed that if anyone knew that I had become an alcoholic, I would never be able to get out from under the pall of it, no matter what I did.  

Yet there was my partner, and there were his parents. Together, they were the heroes that made it possible to succeed in getting sober. (His parents, by the way, had never met me or even spoken with me prior to my partner whisking me away to their home in South Carolina.) Here’s what was so helpful in what they did leading up to that turning point and beyond:

• After yet another disappointment with my birth mother and so much pain that had built up for me in Washington State, I exclaimed to my partner, “Get me the fuck out of this state!” I realize that running away is not usually a healthy solution to any problem, but going to a new place with loving support around me gave me a foundation from which I could eventually begin my path toward healing. My partner’s responsiveness to me, taking me seriously and showing loving understanding, as well as his parents’ generous welcoming, let me know, very clearly, that I was not alone. I felt held, which I needed desperately.

• My downward spiral actually accelerated with this relocation, which is not what anyone would want, but it may have been what I needed. I bottomed out in a safe place with loving support, and I didn’t have to worry about destroying my career while being such a wreck because I didn’t have to earn that same level of money in order to keep a roof over my head. My partner and his parents were patient and kind. I felt undeserving but immensely grateful.

• When it came time for me to take the leap to quit drinking, following my friend’s direction, my partner’s parents cleared all the booze from the house, and they never let me see any judgmental feelings they may have had about it or me. I’m not sure if they did or didn’t have those judgmental feelings. I know that at least one of them had experienced alcoholism in the family, and they were both very encouraging with every step I took to recover. Either way, I felt supported and free from shame, which also enabled me to be more freely honest about all of it.

• My partner, who would soon become my husband, continued in that all-in way of giving support. He stayed by my side every day and night that I was in the hospital to safely detox. He then quit drinking himself, though he was not an alcoholic. He supported me in accessing the resources I needed to get healthy again. He held my hand. He walked and talked with me. He listened. He trusted me to do the next right thing, and he encouraged me along the way - all without a sense of pressure to get things right for him. I felt loved, even worthy of love - which was revolutionary for me.

My now husband and in-laws could’ve easily turned their backs on me back then, deciding I was too much trouble. Again, his parents didn’t even know me. Instead, they showed up with immense generosity of spirit. I will be grateful to them forever.

Paying It Forward

I look for opportunities to pay this generosity forward - to the next still-suffering addict, to loved ones in crisis, and to strangers I feel called to connect with on the street. I know there is always more that I can do, but I also know that each time I am generous with my heart and time is valuable and needed in this world. It’s tough out there, and I am committed to doing what I can to pour more good into it because I know just how life-changing that can be.