Facing Voldemort.

Regrettably, it has been a few weeks since my last blog post, but on the positive side: much growth has occurred.

“He knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort’s feet . . . he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible. . . .”  – J.K. Rowling ‘Harry Potter’ series

In a previous post, I spoke about the choices I have recently been confronted with in my relationship with my mother. I made the decision to agree to speak with her over the phone, with my objectives being to clarify the boundaries I’ve set to protect myself as well as to make clear the contingencies that need to be respected if she desires to have a physical presence in my life. Our conversation was successful on this behalf, but not very much so beyond that…

From the beginning of our conversation, my mother insisted upon the fact that she has been doing SO MUCH WORK on herself. She spoke about the past 6 months as if she had resolved all of her childhood issues, adulthood issues and urged me to “forgive and forget” any of her maternal “inconsistencies.” She noted that she has been going regularly to church, to include a Wednesday night Bible Study as well as working one-on-one with a “spiritual adviser.” She expressed that she is now able to understand the Bible and that she uses her understanding to guide her in her everyday life. 

Okay, so…when does the alcoholism and mistreatment get directly addressed?

It didn’t. Because…it doesn’t. Meaning, it won’t. In a 45 minute conversation, my mother spoke about her relationship with her church and spiritual adviser as if she just naturally arrived at this interest. Like she just woke up one day and felt inspired to establish a connection with (Christian) God. As if she just signed up for this Bible Retreat because it seemed promising and *boop* everything damaged within her has become shiny and brand new. This is problematic for two reasons…

For one, her story is not true. She did not embark upon this religious journey because it felt right and she felt intrinsically motivated to do so. She has sought out this religious journey because 1) Ever the narcissist, it looks good to other people. It maintains the desired image she wishes to wield and hopefully makes me appear unreasonable for distancing myself from her, 2) She thinks I will be impressed by it or at least my ‘rebellion (i.e. the decision I’ve made to be direct with her about my childhood pain, her alcoholism and my newly established boundaries for emotional protection)’ will be pacified, and 3) because the man she is currently co-dependently-ever-after with is a religious figure. And since she has successfully meshed both of their identities into one (meaning, his..) she is no longer using her own words or ideas to navigate herself through life. I need a whole nother day to blog about her co-dependent relationship pattern with abusive men and its presence in my childhood…

Secondly, this is problematic because it slaps anyone who has ever genuinely walked the rocky path of recovery hard across the face. Myself included. I might not be recovering from direct alcoholism, though alcoholism played a prominent role in my childhood environment, but I know that 40+ years of alcohol abuse doesn’t just miraculously become resolved in 6 months. Sometimes I think she must still see me as the naive 8 year old that used to clean up her vomit in the middle of the night and change her pajamas for her whenever she got black-out drunk. The same 8 year old who made a game out of playing doctor in the morning and kept a journal of her symptoms when she’d tell me she was suddenly ill (though, as an adult I realize that she was just hungover–I still have that “doctor” journal to this day. It chills me to see how blatant it was then.). But that’s unfortunately what she does…manipulate the other party’s lack of access to knowledge about something by strongly claiming that things are the extreme opposite of what they seem.

Anyone who has genuinely walked the path of recovery knows that it is a lifelong process. You don’t feel the effects of your recovery so immediately. In fact, you spend the first year or so feeling so uncomfortable about all that you are challenging yourself to do differently that you can’t even tell if it’s really working. That’s how I felt in the first year of my own journey in recovery from my childhood. I still continue to grapple with how much I’ve really progressed. Less-so as I get stronger and stronger, but I’ve accepted that the grappling is just something that will constantly play a role in my journey.

So for my mother to get on the phone and claim that everything is perfect and fixed and if I could just get over myself and forget what happened and stop bringing it up into everything and be her best friend, is absurd. I told her that if she is really doing the work that she says she is, that it will naturally manifest in her behavior towards me and furthermore that that would be the “evidence” I’ll require in order to begin building trust. I told her that in the meantime, there is going to continue to be a distance between us, because while I can and have forgiven her, it is impossible to forget what has all happened between us because it has had a major role in making me who I am today. The bad goes right along hand-in-hand with the good. There is no magical delete button that I can press and then all of my deepest fears and anxieties just disappear. Trust me, if it existed I’d have pressed that shit 9 years ago when I left Boston to escape that household. I wouldn’t press it now, though. I have grown an appreciation for all that I’ve been through. It has provided me with a unique lens through which to see the world; interpersonal and intrapersonal relationships. 

I made the point to mention to my mother that while it sounds like she is feeling supported through church and her spiritual adviser, it would be valuable to share her alcoholism with them OR to at least seek a form of therapy via Alcohol Anonymous, Al-Anon, or–especially–private professional therapy. I acknowledged the  fact that since alcohol has played such a huge role in her life and her coping mechanisms have been built around it, she would be remiss to leave that out of any dialogue. Her response was that she has too much going on in her life and doesn’t have any time to do anything like that.

What that says to me is that acknowledging her alcoholism and seeking help is not a priority to her. In one sentence she made it very clear to me that while she is doing some things to give the outward impression of progress and growth, she is still protecting her disease. And while she’s certainly got a lot going on, alcoholism stands boldly at the core of her arbitrary issues. Thankfully, I went into our interaction not having any expectations for her to acknowledge or work on her alcohol abuse. I stuck to my guns and to my goals. By the end of our phone conversation, I made it very clear to her that while I can’t control whether she continues to drink or not, that she will not drink around me. If she were to make the choice to drink in my presence (while in the company of other family or otherwise), I would promptly remove myself from the situation and leave from wherever we may be. I also reinforced to her that my wife & I will no longer be staying in a house with her, to maintain a healthy emotional boundary.

It felt really good to assert myself and stand up to the biggest bully of my life. It felt great to protect my emotional and psychological stability and articulate an contingency. Because I can’t tell her how to live her life. I can’t be the person that holds all her shit together for her while she continues to be reckless. I can’t be her emotional punching bag when she’s upset or attack dog when she feels threatened. All I can do is create a safe space for myself and make the best choices I can to maintain that sense of stability and security I yearned for as a child. It’s okay that she could never provide this environment for me, because for once in my life, I realize that I have the power to provide it for myself.


A Step Towards Healing: Part II

In my first Step Towards Healing, I highlighted a book that sparked an awakening and awareness in me about what I had experienced through childhood and how it had affected me in becoming an anxious and mal-adapted young adult. From that first step, I’ve continued to pick up books and seek out resources to help deepen my understanding and develop a safe & healthy game plan for my recovery as an adult child of an alcoholic family.

The next book I picked up is titled “Perfect Daughters: Adult Daughters of Alcoholics” by Robert J. Ackerman, Ph.D. Dr. Ackerman has decades of clinical experience in helping women who have been affected by alcoholism, particularly those who have an alcoholic mother, father–or both. I liked this book because it really digs deep into the psychology of the adult daughter in all of these scenarios. While adult children of alcoholics share have many traits in common (as discussed in Part I), defense mechanisms & coping skills vary depending on who in the child’s life was the alcoholic (mother-only; father-only; both parents) and furthermore how the other parent (if present) behaves in response to their spouse’s addiction.

This book hit me two-fold. First, it gave me some very interesting insight about my mother. I am fully aware of alcoholism’s strong presence in my family history as a whole. My parents have been divorced since before my first memories. I’m sure I will talk about the abusive relationship between my mother and my father in blog posts to come, but the relevant information to share right now is that after my mother left my father, she moved back in with her parents–my grandparents. I was raised in a house with my mother, my grandmother and my grandfather (until he passed). My grandparents are alcoholics.

My grandfather’s alcohol abuse eventually killed him (kidney & liver failure). He was on dialysis and still sneaking drinks until the day he died. In their day, he and my grandmother were perpetual party people and heavy drinkers, often leaving my mother (& aunt) unattended. Thankfully, as I mentioned in an earlier post, my grandfather’s death was a wake-up call for my grandmother. He passed when I was 5 years old, in Kindergarten. In the wake of his death, something clicked for my grandmother and she (successfully) went on her own journey to recover from her many years of alcohol abuse. This of course was too late to “raise” and “rescue” my mother who was already 36 years-old and alcohol-dependent, so my grandmother invested her parental redemption in me. If it weren’t for this, I don’t know where I would be..but I digress.

Perfect Daughters granted me tons of insight in coming to realize that not only is my mother an alcoholic, she is also an adult daughter of alcoholics. The book talks about the coping skills adult daughters develop in response to having two alcoholic parents, as well as discussing their high likelihood of becoming self-harmers and substance abusers. I saw so much of my mother in this book, more than I saw myself, and gained a sense of empathy for her. I was able to release some of the anger I had been walking around with since my teenage years when I realized how much she much be hurting on the inside, too. This did not by any means excuse her behavior, because I realize that our lives are largely a product of the choices we make (after we acknowledge the access to resources & privileges some of us have over others [men v. women; Caucasian v. persons of color; wealth v. poverty; able-bodied v. those living w/handicap, etc]). But Perfect Daughters did help to humanize my mother, in my mind. I remember thinking, I wonder if she would seek help and therapy if she were to read this book. But then also realizing that she would never accept it from me because she would manage to see it as an insult or a pass of judgement.

The other way that Perfect Daughters impacted me was in understanding myself. I found my own mentality reflected within its pages. There is a section in the book called “Childhood Lessons.” This section urges the reader to look back on their life and identify whether or not they learned these unintended lessons within the process of adjusting to an alcoholic family and coming-of-age. Below are the selections from the larger list of lessons that I highlighted because I realized that I had been living these lessons my whole life:

  • If I can control everything, I can keep my family from becoming upset.
  • Whatever happens is my fault, and I am to blame when trouble occurs.
  • People who love you the most are those who cause you the most pain.
  • If I don’t get too close emotionally, you cannot hurt me.
  • Nothing is wrong, but I don’t feel right.
  • Expressing anger is not appropriate
  • I’m unique, and my family is different from all other families.
  • I can deny anything.
  • I am not a good person.
  • I am responsible for the success of a relationship.
  • To be acceptable, everything must be perfect

Dr. Ackerman goes on to write, “These childhood lessons become imprints or beliefs that you have about yourself, and they begin to dictate your expectations of yourself and your behaviors…However, you have survived and somehow you have maintained some balance in your life. Therefore, you must have learned other lessons that have served you well or have allowed you to survive.” The latter section of that quote, I immediately think about my relationship with my grandmother as she played the role of emotionally-available parent in my life.

The book provides profiles for the 8 different patterns of behaviors that develop in adult daughters. I was able to identify my mother within these profiles, as well as discovering myself as  an “Achiever” and “Detacher”. The most valuable part of this book for me was that Dr. Ackerman acknowledges that each type has both positive and negative traits.

In the last part of Perfect Daughters Dr. Ackerman provides tons of information about how an adult daughter (or child) can help their own recovery. I found this to be really valuable because I hadn’t known where to begin in acquiring and building healthy skills for myself before reading this book. When I started reading Perfect Daughters I was still in a place where I was trying to understand if alcoholism really had affected me or was I just hypersensitive & paranoid. Within the first 100 pages, I came to the realization that what I had felt in Part I was very real and that there were most certainly somethings amiss. 

Perfect Daughters helped me to build up the confidence to continue to  go forth in my healing & recovery. It helped me to understand my mother’s behavior on a higher-level and therefore I started to develop more realistic expectations for our relationship (what I deserve v. what she is capable of). Whether you are a daughter or son of alcoholics, I encourage you to see out this book if maternal alcoholism has been present in your life in one way or another. I look forward to sharing my next steps towards healing and the resources that have helped get me here, in the future.

The Inevitable ‘Matrix’ Moment

My planned intent for this blog post was to highlight another Step Towards Healing, and feature the second book I read on my journey to recovery. However, given the fact that I haven’t slept soundly in two nights since something seemingly major happened, I’m gonna take a detour–bear with me.

Over the weekend, I received two phone calls from a phone number that intentionally blocked its Caller ID. The first one was in the evening, the second call came in at exactly 12:42am–the middle of the night. I have a general rule that I don’t answer phone numbers from area codes that I don’t recognize. If it’s that important, they’ll leave a voice message and I will kindly return their call. It is highly rare, next to never, that a Blocked phone number calls me. I don’t associate with any of my ex-significant others and any friends and/or family would not block their number. The only logical conclusion I could come to was that it was my mother calling.


Earlier last week, my mother made a passive-aggressive post on my wife’s Facebook profile about how we (my wife & I) had forgotten about my grandmother on her 91st birthday. This was not at all true, of course. In actuality, I’d had a 45 minute conversation with my grandmother, during which I not only wished her a Happy Birthday, we also talked about how my mother’s alcoholism has not changed and furthermore how it has impacted the current state of our relationship. I hold nothing back when it comes to talking to my grandmother, that’s just the kind of relationship we have. We love each other truly unconditionally, so we try our hardest to be as frank with each other as possible. Life is too unpredictable to leave things unsaid; each conversation between us places everything on the table and we don’t walk away from it until everyone feels heard and understood. I’ll blog in the future about my grandmother’s role as an enabler, but regardless, my grandmother has played a huge role in fostering my resilience.

My mother’s post was an ill-informed opportunity for her to express some obvious anger she has about our estrangement. As a reminder and note, we have not spoken at all to each other since my wedding 6 months ago..but really it has been 7 months since I last confronted her about her alcoholism. Since then, she has regularly Liked and Commented on my Facebook posts to keep up appearances to the outside world. As a Narcissist (who also happens to be an alcoholic), her image is more important to her than reality–as evidenced by this behavior. So basically, as long as my 11th grade Chemistry lab partner interprets her Facebook activity to mean things are alright between us, my mother can write me off in her mind as crazy for so much as implying that her habits & behaviors are unhealthy.

Again, the communication between my wife & I is ironclad. Upon reading the post on her wall, she came to me and said, “This just happened. We know it’s not true, so what is the best way for us to respond without feeding into her anger?” I love my wife for this. She could have impulsively fired something back at my mother, she could have tossed her Facebook wall at me and said “Handle this.” But what did she do? She stated the facts and initiated a conversation about how we should handle it…because she understands that what goes on with either of us, involves both of us as a team. We talked, and thought it’d be best for her to respond in a respectful, but matter-of-fact way, stating that my mother’s assumptions were incorrect. Of course, she removed the public wall post and responded in a private message, as that should have–if at all–been the appropriate way for my mother to reach out with her concerns to begin with.

My mother responded with a snide remark that showed she didn’t really read my wife’s message to her and then proceeded to copy & paste her response to my wife’s message in a group text message, CC-ing my entire family, including me but excluding my wife. She did not include my wife’s message that kindly stated that we had spoken to my grandmother, despite the fact that it didn’t occur during the time when my mother was at the nursing home visiting my grandmother. My mother just decided to broadcast her snide response to me & the rest of my family. My eldest cousin was the first to respond, completely confused about what the context of this random message was and furthermore what she had to do with it at all. My mother responded and labelled the copy/paste of her snide remark to be “Conversation about [my name] not calling Nana on her birthday ! Retraction”…whatever that means.

By this time, my blood was boiling. I’d been using the 6 months of my mother’s avoidance to dig deeper in my recovery and build strength. I’d become so comfortable with the space in our relationship. Whenever I step closer my feelings are exploited, she tries to manipulate me and I always end up burned. I was even already coming up with best practices for journeying to Boston to see my family. But in 15 short minutes, she managed to penetrate my zen-like calm with hot rods of iron. I took a moment to breathe and then responded within the Group message, “Why is this a family conversation? You messaged [my wife] about us not calling, which we had. Your original information was incorrect. I don’t understand why this was copied & pasted to the family..?” My cousin responded in agreement, the rest of my family remaining silent. I then sent my mother a text message to her phone directly stating that if this was an attempt to get me to talk to her, she can call me at any time–I am not hiding from her. She responded in a manner I’d expect from a teenager going through a break-up about how I had her phone number and that I can call her. I recognized the fact that I wasn’t talking to an emotionally-mature person and didn’t even bother to respond.


So then, over the weekend I get a couple ghost calls from an intentionally blocked phone number with no voice messages left. On Monday, I received a missed call while I was working-out from my mother’s cell phone, with no voice message left. On Tuesday morning, I receive an ambiguous e-mail from my mother’s work e-mail address…”Love You” in the subject line and a vague quote from Eleanor Roosevelt about shared responsibility in Understanding as the only words within the message. After a long talk with my wife during one of our evening family walks with our dog, it was agreed that the best way to respond to my mother would be to remain emotionally mutual while directly addressing the real issue–the fact that since I confronted her last about her alcohol abuse, she abruptly ended the conversation and has avoided contact with me since. I did my best to send her an email response back stating the issue and furthermore that if she wants to re-initiate contact with me, she will need to be prepared to continue & resolve our conversation from 7 months ago.

She responded. Her response was that I am correct in our need to continue the dialogue from January and that she has been “working very hard on resolving [her] ‘faults’ and inconsistencies with spiritual help and growth.” She wants to set up a time for us to talk over the phone. Anyone on the outside is probably thinking this is great news and that I should be sighing relief and putting eggs in my basket left-and-right. If this hadn’t been the umpteenth time I’d heard my mother claim she’s changed, I probably would be doing all of the aforementioned.

Unfortunately, I feel like I already know where this is headed. She wants another attempt to better mask and hide her alcoholism from me. She wants to have everything back the way it was so that she can be comfortable and stagnant. She wants me to believe that because she goes to bible study and gives praise to Jesus 20 times a day, her alcoholism can go un-addressed; like dirt under a rug. But alcohol has been her best friend since she was 14. She has drunkenly admitted that fact to me. You don’t just go to church for 6 months and everything is fixed. You don’t go from passive-aggressive Facebook posts, humiliating group text messages, blocked phone calls at inappropriate hours and vague emails about shared responsibility for damage you did on your own to “Let’s talk heart-to-heart because I’ve worked really hard to change,” in one week’s time.

This is where I reiterate to myself the abusive lover analogy. I feel like she’s the cliche husband who beat his wife within an inch of her life 6 months ago and has gone through every cycle of getting-her-back: sending flowers & gifts (my mother has done this), begging her friends to talk her into seeing him again to no avail (check!); leaving nasty messages (check!) and stalking her outside of her job; grabbing at her wrists as she walks past him to her car to get her to stop and talk to him; saying he’s been going to church (check!) and working out more and it’s helping his anger. In the movies, she believes him and she goes back into his arms. And things are great for a while, sometimes for years. But because as soon as she lets him all the way back into her life, he knows he’s won and so he stops working on himself. Until something happens down the road and he snaps harder than he’s ever snapped before.

I’ve been through this cycle with my mother too many times before to count. I confront her, she denies, I take a step back, she gets furious and does everything to win me back, I accept her back into my life and then..over time..something happens and she reveals herself as unchanged. I’ve been hurt by this cycle so many times since that first tearful intervention I had with her at age 12. The only thing I can attest to that has changed is my ability to see it as a cycle and my dedication to my own recovery.

So right now I’m just kinda thinking…do I want her back in my life? Or would I just be doing this because it will pacify her? Deep down, I know the answer…I’m just hoping I can be as honest with myself as I’ve always been with my grandmother, before my mother & I talk for the first time after 6 months of silence.

On Loving a Functional Alcoholic.

This post is an elaboration on a response I made to a comment from And Everything Afterwards’ entry titled “Talk to Your Children about Alcohol.”

My mother is the primary, but not sole, alcoholic in my life. She is a high functioning alcoholic. And because there are people in my family who are alcoholics that cannot function as highly, she refuses to believe that she has a problem. I used to believe I was being overly sensitive about her drinking as a kid, because she didn’t look like the drunk-all-the-time, can’t-keep-a-job, beats-their-kids-to-a-pulp alcoholic popularized by USA media. Because those roles are usually reserved for men.

Mothers are multitasking, loving, selfless beings that deserve a drink or two to unwind, is what the media portrays. But what happens when mommy turns into someone else every night after she’s had several glasses of her wine and she’s passing out in the bathroom? What about when I have to help mommy put on her pajamas and tuck her into bed after cleaning up her vomit? As long as you get to school on time the next day and she goes in to work consistently, everything is fine. She might get a little out-of-control now and again, but she most definitely does not have a drinking problem because the bills are paid, you have a roof over your head and food on your plate.

This was very confusing for me growing up. As a matter of fact, it remained confusing for me until very recently (I am now in my late 20s). I knew as a kid that I didn’t like what alcohol did to my mother (and certain other family members). But I also knew that my mother was responsible about getting me to school, herself to work and making dinner every night. I suspect it must be just as confusing for the high-functioning alcoholic as it is for those that love them.

I have made the intentional effort to follow a few WordPress users’ sobriety blogs. I admire their strength. It takes a really strong person to be able to look at their self objectively and say “I have a problem and I’m the only one that can decide to fix it.” I know that breaking an addiction isn’t easy. I know that the resurfacing of issues you’ve done everything to bury and forget is a struggle. I know that no one is perfect and that people fuck up in their recovery sometimes. But I have incredible pride when reading the raw & honest accounts of the recovering alcoholics to whose blogs I’ve subscribed.

My wife says I should rid myself of expectations when it comes to my mother. I shouldn’t expect her to drink and I also shouldn’t expect her not to drink. I agree with her. Investing expectation in someone who has a warped sense of reality is dangerous. It would be like running back into the arms of a physically abusive lover. A relationship with a functional alcoholic[-in-denial] is the same. Of course you love them and you want nothing more than to believe that they will be better this time. But how many times do you have to hope for it to be better this time before you realize you’re playing Russian Roulette and they keep handing you a fully-loaded gun?

You did not sell them the gun. You did not load the gun. You cannot unload it. But you do have the power to stop playing the game. It will be painful–your heart will feel like it is ripping apart. You will feel guilty–who will be there to take care of them? You will bargain–what if I just do something to distract myself next time they drink? But until they make the decision that the gun is hurting them and the people they love, there is nothing you can do to keep them from self-harm.

I haven’t seen my mother in almost 6 months. I haven’t had a conversation with her (other than superficial banter during my wedding) in nearly 7 months. The last real conversation we had was about her last drinking binge and it resulted in her hanging up on me, calling my aunt (her sister) and shouting at her about how I was her “devil daughter.” It is pretty scary the person an addict becomes when you confront them about their addiction. It’s like approaching a caged tiger. All it wants to do is get out of the cage, but the closer you get to the latch, the more violent it becomes. It hates the cage, but it’s the only ‘safety & security’ it knows, so it’d rather hurt you than have to deal with adapting to the ambiguity of a cage-less environment. But the reality is that a tiger is a tiger and it cannot let itself out of a cage. We must stop seeing our beloved as a tiger and realize that they are a human being inside of a cage without a lock, and that they must grant their own freedom.

Some days go smoother than others. Some days I don’t think of my mother at all; on others, many things remind me of her. It doesn’t necessarily get easier, but I can feel that I get stronger..little-by-little. I’ll never be invincible, that’s a fantasy. But I will get better and better at dealing with the deep pain of my childhood and the scrapes and cuts I get from time-to-time as an adult. I don’t have to reconnect with her (honestly, she is more avoiding me than vice-versa..), but I believe that I will, in the near future. It seems it would be impossible to go to my hometown to see family and not cross paths with her. So in the meantime, I’m building my strength and working on this whole No Expectations thing.