adult children of alocholics
I have been reading a book called Adult Children of Alcoholics by Janet Woititz. It was written in 1983, so of course it must be taken with a grain of salt given the time period and populist psychological philosophy at the time.
In the 1980's, cultural psychology was popular - the idea that culture and the way your brain works are nearly inseparable. You can see this in the book as it claims, between the lines, that growing up in a household with an alcoholic (culture) has influence who you are as a person now (mind).
Woititz makes several claims in this book that are based upon the consensus of an adult group of people who grew up with alcoholic parents. It has been an interesting read so far, and I felt compelled to talk about what she asserts in relationship to what I felt growing up. In fact, that is as far as I have gotten in the book - what these children feel as children.
1. We guess at what normal behavior is.
I can understand what the author is saying here. Children have no idea what normal is because normal is relative. When you grow up with a parent or two who are alcoholics, that seems normal to you, yet you know that it is not. So you are left feeling unsure of how things are "supposed" to be.
The author says that some children end up thinking that families are supposed to be like the ones on tv. I never felt that way. I never really tried to figure out what normal was because from a very early age, I knew no family was ever perfect, no family ever "normal". I did, however, envy the other little girls I knew that had good relationships with their dads. Maybe envy is not the right word... maybe more awed. I just could not imagine. Now, I did not know about my dad's problems until some time in jr high, but I still knew something was up.
The author also says that these former children can subsequently struggle with relationships (see below) and family structure as they try to create their own. Again, I have never felt this way, but I will try to talk more about it below.
2. We have difficulty seeing a project through from start to finish.
I did not appreciate what the author says here. And of course it is from the uniqueness of my situation. My dad never failed to provide for us monetarily. He always had a good job, he always made sure food was on the table, he got stuff done. The author says that from watching your parents make excuses, leave projects unfinished, and generally not parent all that much, that the children of alcoholics never learn how to do something all the way.
Now it is true, I can see the unfinished house projects... the hole in the ceiling that was 2 years old, the dripping bathtub that rotted away the wall for years... but somehow my parents still taught me to do stuff. Maybe, though, I have learned to only do what I WANT to do. It is rare that I do something out of obligation, and I do not know if that is a good or a bad thing. I do things because I feel like doing them, not because someone else would be happy if I did. Is that self-serving? I am not sure, because at the same time, I never lie and play games and say I am glad to do something for someone when I am not. Also, people can be assured that if I say I want to do something, I literally want to do it, and I am not just pandering or playing along or giving them lip service. If I say I want to, they can believe that I do not feel obliged.
3. We lie when it is just as easy to tell the truth.
I do not think this is true at all, at least for me. I was never one to tell little fibs. So I have to conclude here that something else is at work besides the environment I grew up in. I have to believe that I am more than the product of nurture. I am more than my childhood, and there is no reason I have to be a product of how I grew up. Yeah, of course there were little lies, but as an adult, I am not prone to lying. In fact, I am much more prone to the blunt truth. But maybe the pendulum just swung in the other direction for me. It stands to reason that a child could go to either extreme. The author says children in these households grow up in a culture of lies as one parent covers for the other, to them, to coworkers, to other relatives. I do not think my mom really did that. She always encouraged honesty and always told us that we would still be loved despite whatever the truth was. I can thank her for the courage and confidence to tell the truth and to not be afraid of the consequences... but to also live my life so that I am not afraid of my own truth.
The only time as an "adult" that I can remember telling white lies was when I was having a lot of relationship trouble. I did not tell complete bold-faced lies, but I omitted truths because they were scary. I disliked myself. I did not like who I had become. So I lied to people I loved because it was a consequence of trying to hide the truth from myself.
I can see this in my dad. He does not like admitting to himself that he has problems. He sees that as weakness, when actually, admitting the truth to yourself is a sign of great strength. But he likes to downplay it. He likes to pretend he has control. But he doesnt. If he could just accept that it is okay to not have control all the time, he would be so much better off.
4. We judge ourselves without mercy....
I am, without a doubt, my worst critic. I am poor at taking compliments. As much as I love when my husband tells me I am pretty or beautiful... and as much as I need that affirmation... it is really hard to believe it. When something is important to me (singing, teaching, being a friend), I actually *want* criticism because I have a hard time believing the good things. This summer I bothered Jon constantly about how I sounded on a singing solo I had. He always said good things. I realized that I did not believe him because I wanted constructive criticism. Criticism I could believe and accept. Nice things, I couldnt.
Now, the beauty thing, that is not a situation where I think I am ugly or hideous or fat or anything of the sort. I just feel realistic about myself. I am not ugly. I am not a supermodel. I am maybe above average, but only when I smile. There are features I like about myself, features I do not. I just feel "normal", which is funny, since I am not supposed to know what normal is. But I feel middle ground. I appreciate that Jon thinks I am above average, and, as I said, I love hearing it. It is hard to accept though.
Now with the other things... yeah, I am a horrible awful critic. I do not get down on myself about it though. It is hard to explain. As much as I pick apart my solos or think about teaching strategies and hope that my friends know that I am someone they can trust and strategize to ensure they know that.... I am not sitting here all woe is me. The author suggests that some of "us" are like that - constantly picking themselves apart. The reason, she says, is that we subconsciously think that WE are the reason our parents drink. Some parents, of course, actually SAY that to their kids. Mine never did though. I never felt like I was the reason. I did, however, feel like if my dad loved me enough, he would be able to stop. For me. For love. For our family. THAT is a really tough thing for a kid to get past, and from what I gather, many adults have trouble realizing the idiocy of those statements.
People are people. Moms and Dads are people. They are human, they are imperfect. They do the best they can, but they have problems. They have mannerisms. They have habits. They have addictions. They do not know how to handle every situation. Yet as a naive child, you think they are supposed to be perfect. It was some time in high school when I figured this out - that they are human. It is still hard to accept sometimes, but only rarely now.
My father's addiction is not my fault. It was there before me. It was there after me. My dad loves me very much and he is so proud of me. Alcohol gets in the way, but that is not a reason to be mad at my father. It is the nature of addiction.
When I start getting upset, I think about how I would feel if I tried to get rid of an innocuous habit. Like, stop shaving my armpits. Or, stop eating chocolate. Or getting a new job. Or even just getting stupid things done around the house. Its HARD. Been biting your fingernails for most of your life? Go ahead, try to stop. It is really hard. Same for alcohol, same for drugs, same for smoking. It is hard to quit, and if you struggle with it, it does not make you a bad person... it just makes you a human being. Sometimes love CAN be the inspiration and give the motivation to someone to stop their habit, but often, they just have to do it for themselves. Loving yourself is the hardest part.
5. ...But we are extremely loyal, even in the face of evidence that the loyalty is undeserved.
My husband tells me this constantly. I have some friends who are a constant source of aggravation. We miscommunicate, we rile each others nerves, things like that. But I do not give up. I cannot give up. In the face of all that, my heart says, stick to it, you know how they will be some day. And I do. I do feel like I know how these people will be some day, and I almost feel like I am supposed to shepherd them through it, that I am their guide on the River Styx. This relates to 7, 10, and 12.
But honestly, it has never really guided me wrong. Sure, there is some heart ache and some annoyance, but I have never been upset in the long run that I stuck with someone who did not appear to deserve it. I really think everyone deserves loyalty.
This relates back to what I said earlier - that I think there is more going on within me that just nurture. Spoiler alert... I really think a good chunk of it has to do with God. I really cannot explain how I am who I am without that piece.
6. We have a difficult time having fun.
Oh my gosh, how true how true! This statement is the epitome of me in high school. Overall, on the surface, very happy go lucky smart everything is awesome kind of girl. Deep down, I carried the burden of the world on my shoulders.
Imagine this - you stay after school for rehearsal or academics or whatever, and find that you are probably going to get home around 5. Your mom will not be home til after 6. Your brother is out in the neighborhood with his friends, or holed up in his room. You drive up your street, simultaneously hoping that your dad's car is there and not there. If it is not there, it means he is at the bar, but at least you do not have to face him before your mom gets home. If it is there, he could be drunk, he could be in a overly talkative alcohol-fueled friendly mood, or he could be grumpy, or he could be just nothing, though that is the least-likely option. You see his car there. You do not know what you are going to find when you walk in the door, but all you want to do is run away. You actually hate coming home. You never feel comfortable in your own house. You isolate yourself as much as you can without appearing to be obvious. You go in, you see your dad making dinner. That means overly friendly mode. You try to figure out how to escape a conversation with him without making him angry that you are not as happy as he is. You just want to get out.
Welcome to my life, circa 1997-1999. Day after day. And you have to wonder, how can a child mentally deal with that? How can you expect him or her to focus on school or have normal friendships and relationships? How can they be "normal" when the people who are supposed to be"perfect" are far from it and mentally they are not mature enough to be okay with that and with themselves?
And then you want them to have fun?
What is it like to have fun when you are constantly worried? How can you laugh and joke about boys and clothes and cars and school when something as serious as this is going on at home?
We get good at hiding it. We, hopefully, get good at compartmentalizing until we are mentally strong enough to take these things off the shelf and analyze them and make sense of them and be at peace with it. But as children, we hide.
7. We have difficulty with intimate relationships.
This strongly relates to the inability to have fun.
Children are supposed to be care-free, but I definitely was not. And it is hard to fit in and feel close to your peers when they have no idea what your life is like and have never had to face such burden.
I remember one particular instance.... I am not sure if it was in high school or in college. Things were really bad with my dad. My mom asked me if I thought they should get divorced. I told her that if it were me, there is no way I would put up with that bs. I told her I would support whatever decision she would make and would never fault or blame her for wanting or getting a divorce. I said she did not have to worry about my brother and I, that we would be there, and that we could make it.
This conversation had a tough affect on me. I tried telling someone about it. The response I got was "That sucks." And this person then proceeded to tell me about how their grandparent was sick and their family was worried.
NOW I understand where that person was coming from. NOW I know that they were trying to relate by telling me their own family hardships. NOW I can appreciate that they had limited perspective, and I could not expect them to "get it". But at the time, I almost cried. How could you say that your grandmother being sick is the same as going home to a place that is anything but home every day and that your mother asked YOU if she should divorce your father?
And so, it was difficult to feel truly close to people. It was hard for me to talk about what was going on at home, and when I tried, people did not have the experience or maturity to relate, which was absolutely not their fault. Yet, who could I open up to? Who could I talk to? It was isolating. It was difficult.
But it made me me. I am strong. I have perspective. I can see situations from many angles and I am realistic about what to expect of people. And yet, I still have hope. Sometimes undeserved, but I have it. And I would not be all these things without my childhood. Without my parents, flaws and all.
8. We over-react to changes over which we have no control.
This can be true, but it is something I have gotten past. I think I used to have more issue with this. I used to get into fights with Jon over how he was in Altoona and I missed him. You know what? It was not his fault! Why was I getting mad at him when I was really just mad at the situation? Take now, when he travels so much for work. In some ways, I can be mad at him because he has not made a lot of progress on finding a job that keeps him home. But at the same time, at least he has a job! We are both making good money and we both live a nice life. It is not the worst thing for him to be away for a few days. It is not like he is in Iraq, thank goodness.
I think this is something that takes time to grow out of, and fortunately, I have made good progress on it. There are things we cannot control, in particular, I cannot control my dad. I can hope for him. I can pray for him. But if he makes a choice to go to the bar or smoke a cigar or eat a half gallon of ice cream, I cannot control that. I cannot control his addictions. I cannot control his health. The biggest thing is to remind myself that sometimes addictions are bigger than love. And just cause he has a few does not diminish his love for him. It just can cover it sometimes like a veil. That does not mean it is not there.
He is out of my control. And it would do best for children of alcoholics to realize that the only person anyone can attempt to control is themselves.
9. We feel we are different from everyone else.
Abso-freaking-lutely. Ne'er truer words spoken.
I have always felt different, though I cannot necessarily attribute it JUST to my childhood. I always felt like I thought more than other people. I always felt like an old soul. I matured early in a lot of ways, which can be a result of taking on extra responsibilities as a child because you have to parent yourself.
But still, I cannot explain it all away with that.
I have often wondered how many people actually think. How many people ponder the universe and their place in it. How many really wonder about why we are alive, and what the purpose is. How many get the feeling deep in their stomach when considering the fact that we are on earth, which is a planet, in a solar system, in a galaxy, of many galaxies, of many systems, of the universe? Its amazing. Like a glimpse at eternity. You really think the Snookies of the world are thinking on that level? Doubtful.
But it seems to self-indulgent and so self-serving to think Wow, I am so different. Everyone is different. Everyone is the same. Truth in paradox. And who really cares if I am more self-actualized that someone else? La-de-dah for me. The real question is, what am I going to do with it? If I really do feel different, then I should make a difference, whether I am actually different or not. If I am not really different, but make a difference, that is what matters. And if I am truly different, then it is my responsibility to use it to make a difference. Same outcome, no matter the motivation.
So I think this author is right in saying we feel different... we did have a different childhood than a lot of others. But so what? You cannot use that as an excuse for who you are now, and you cannot use it to deflect against your own shortcomings. You have to be like, okay, cool, I can use this to my advantage.
10. We are either super responsible or super irresponsible.
If you do not know me, I will spare you the trouble of trying to puzzle it out: I am super responsible. If I make plans, I try to stick to them, unless illness prevents me from doing so. When that happens, I feel AWFUL about it. I hate taking off from school or work for any reason. In the past, I have taken on others personal burdens as my own and ached right along with them.
And yet at the same time, I do not always clean out the cat's litter box. I can be lazy, too.
Jon and I were discussing our basement the other night. He had a fun idea for a project for him to work on. Unfortunately, I rained on his parade by telling him (gently??) that we have so many other NECESSARY projects that we MUST do around the house that fun should wait. :/ How stupid am I? But I get antsy when stuff is not done. I can let it go to a point, but then I go in a whirlwind craze of cleaning and crafting and creating.
We also discussed our social life... or lack thereof. Since I have 4 days out of the month that I consider "mine", when I am not working or otherwise engaged, I feel like those are the days I need to do everything I was slacking on - cleaning, doing projects around the house, attempting to rest... And when I do not get time to do these things, I cannot have fun with friends. I feel anxious. I have responsibilities that I am letting go....
And it is stupid. I realize this. But how do you tell your body to stop being anxious when you cannot really help it? The best I can do is to stay on top of those small tasks, set goals for myself, and also schedule in play time. To make it my responsibility to see friends, to relax. To make that, in essence, a job that needs to get done. And I realize that is kind of psychotic, but for now, it is the best I can do.
I definitely got the super responsible side. But all things considered, I would rather be super responsible than super irresponsible.
11. We are impulsive.
Now this, I find interesting. The author says that children of alcoholics tend to pick a path impulsively but then get so mired and focused that they literally cannot change that path, no matter the consequences. For (personal) example - I took a job I was wary of. I just decided, what the heck, I will give it a try. BAD DECISION. It was so stressful that I started getting physically sick all the time - fevers and stomach issues and coughs and sniffles. I absolutely agonized over what the heck I should do. To most people, it seems obvious, to quit it, right? But then we ran into super responsible me. These kids NEEDED me. No one else could do MY job. What a load of bs. After debating and debating, I quit. And holy cow, talk about a relief. Good move there.... but after impulsively making a decision that perhaps I should not have made, I stuck with it through and through til I practically put myself in the hospital. Not cool.
Is this a result of my childhood? Not sure. It might be in relationship to my feelings of responsibility, but I would not say, on the whole, that I am all that impulsive. Just the same....
Maybe I am. I tend to make what seems to be spontaneous decisions all the time, but really I am going with my gut and trusting that my brains have worked everything out and I am merely just not quite conscious of it yet. If you ever get a chance, read the book Blink. Very interesting stuff. But my impulsive nature really stems from the idea that, even moving in the wrong direction, you are going to learn something that will lead you to the right direction. Movement is better than being a sitting duck, so if you are not sure what to do, just do SOMETHING. You will know sooner or later whether that was the right thing or not. Plus I believe in redemption and the ability to change your course. We are not stuck being who we are. We can change if we put enough effort into it. I really think that. It takes time and dedication. But we can do it. So I tend to pick a path and go and see where it leads me. I guess this is impulsive. And in the past, I have gotten kind of stuck, but I think I am beyond that.
12. We take ourselves very seriously.
Um, yes. I do take myself seriously, though at the same time I am seriously aware of my own bs. This is part of where I think God plays into who I am. I am very aware most of the time that who I am is not my body. It is also not fleeting anger or annoyance, it is not boring or mean. I really think the core soul of people is good and happy and loving. And yes, I take that seriously. So when analyzing a person, even myself, I have to wade past the bs outer shell of humanity and find the soul within. The good. That is what is important. That is what I really think people need to strive to see within others and themselves. All the outside stuff is just stuff. Who you are is not your image or even your feelings, which are transient. The real person is in there. And so I look for that. I respond to that. I do not always think of it or focus on it. I get caught up in the outside stuff plenty of times, but I always come back to this. And that is why I can forgive my dad. I love his soul. His humanity kinda sucks sometimes. His addictions though, are not who he is. And though they make it difficult to see the real him, he is there, somewhere, and I always have to focus on that.
There are plenty of other things to say about this, in particular how I think God factors in to who I am, because it is an interesting concept....
But school starts tomorrow and I have to be at work by 8. Sigh. Goodbye summer, you were way too fast for my tastes, but I loved you anyway.
In the 1980's, cultural psychology was popular - the idea that culture and the way your brain works are nearly inseparable. You can see this in the book as it claims, between the lines, that growing up in a household with an alcoholic (culture) has influence who you are as a person now (mind).
Woititz makes several claims in this book that are based upon the consensus of an adult group of people who grew up with alcoholic parents. It has been an interesting read so far, and I felt compelled to talk about what she asserts in relationship to what I felt growing up. In fact, that is as far as I have gotten in the book - what these children feel as children.
1. We guess at what normal behavior is.
I can understand what the author is saying here. Children have no idea what normal is because normal is relative. When you grow up with a parent or two who are alcoholics, that seems normal to you, yet you know that it is not. So you are left feeling unsure of how things are "supposed" to be.
The author says that some children end up thinking that families are supposed to be like the ones on tv. I never felt that way. I never really tried to figure out what normal was because from a very early age, I knew no family was ever perfect, no family ever "normal". I did, however, envy the other little girls I knew that had good relationships with their dads. Maybe envy is not the right word... maybe more awed. I just could not imagine. Now, I did not know about my dad's problems until some time in jr high, but I still knew something was up.
The author also says that these former children can subsequently struggle with relationships (see below) and family structure as they try to create their own. Again, I have never felt this way, but I will try to talk more about it below.
2. We have difficulty seeing a project through from start to finish.
I did not appreciate what the author says here. And of course it is from the uniqueness of my situation. My dad never failed to provide for us monetarily. He always had a good job, he always made sure food was on the table, he got stuff done. The author says that from watching your parents make excuses, leave projects unfinished, and generally not parent all that much, that the children of alcoholics never learn how to do something all the way.
Now it is true, I can see the unfinished house projects... the hole in the ceiling that was 2 years old, the dripping bathtub that rotted away the wall for years... but somehow my parents still taught me to do stuff. Maybe, though, I have learned to only do what I WANT to do. It is rare that I do something out of obligation, and I do not know if that is a good or a bad thing. I do things because I feel like doing them, not because someone else would be happy if I did. Is that self-serving? I am not sure, because at the same time, I never lie and play games and say I am glad to do something for someone when I am not. Also, people can be assured that if I say I want to do something, I literally want to do it, and I am not just pandering or playing along or giving them lip service. If I say I want to, they can believe that I do not feel obliged.
3. We lie when it is just as easy to tell the truth.
I do not think this is true at all, at least for me. I was never one to tell little fibs. So I have to conclude here that something else is at work besides the environment I grew up in. I have to believe that I am more than the product of nurture. I am more than my childhood, and there is no reason I have to be a product of how I grew up. Yeah, of course there were little lies, but as an adult, I am not prone to lying. In fact, I am much more prone to the blunt truth. But maybe the pendulum just swung in the other direction for me. It stands to reason that a child could go to either extreme. The author says children in these households grow up in a culture of lies as one parent covers for the other, to them, to coworkers, to other relatives. I do not think my mom really did that. She always encouraged honesty and always told us that we would still be loved despite whatever the truth was. I can thank her for the courage and confidence to tell the truth and to not be afraid of the consequences... but to also live my life so that I am not afraid of my own truth.
The only time as an "adult" that I can remember telling white lies was when I was having a lot of relationship trouble. I did not tell complete bold-faced lies, but I omitted truths because they were scary. I disliked myself. I did not like who I had become. So I lied to people I loved because it was a consequence of trying to hide the truth from myself.
I can see this in my dad. He does not like admitting to himself that he has problems. He sees that as weakness, when actually, admitting the truth to yourself is a sign of great strength. But he likes to downplay it. He likes to pretend he has control. But he doesnt. If he could just accept that it is okay to not have control all the time, he would be so much better off.
4. We judge ourselves without mercy....
I am, without a doubt, my worst critic. I am poor at taking compliments. As much as I love when my husband tells me I am pretty or beautiful... and as much as I need that affirmation... it is really hard to believe it. When something is important to me (singing, teaching, being a friend), I actually *want* criticism because I have a hard time believing the good things. This summer I bothered Jon constantly about how I sounded on a singing solo I had. He always said good things. I realized that I did not believe him because I wanted constructive criticism. Criticism I could believe and accept. Nice things, I couldnt.
Now, the beauty thing, that is not a situation where I think I am ugly or hideous or fat or anything of the sort. I just feel realistic about myself. I am not ugly. I am not a supermodel. I am maybe above average, but only when I smile. There are features I like about myself, features I do not. I just feel "normal", which is funny, since I am not supposed to know what normal is. But I feel middle ground. I appreciate that Jon thinks I am above average, and, as I said, I love hearing it. It is hard to accept though.
Now with the other things... yeah, I am a horrible awful critic. I do not get down on myself about it though. It is hard to explain. As much as I pick apart my solos or think about teaching strategies and hope that my friends know that I am someone they can trust and strategize to ensure they know that.... I am not sitting here all woe is me. The author suggests that some of "us" are like that - constantly picking themselves apart. The reason, she says, is that we subconsciously think that WE are the reason our parents drink. Some parents, of course, actually SAY that to their kids. Mine never did though. I never felt like I was the reason. I did, however, feel like if my dad loved me enough, he would be able to stop. For me. For love. For our family. THAT is a really tough thing for a kid to get past, and from what I gather, many adults have trouble realizing the idiocy of those statements.
People are people. Moms and Dads are people. They are human, they are imperfect. They do the best they can, but they have problems. They have mannerisms. They have habits. They have addictions. They do not know how to handle every situation. Yet as a naive child, you think they are supposed to be perfect. It was some time in high school when I figured this out - that they are human. It is still hard to accept sometimes, but only rarely now.
My father's addiction is not my fault. It was there before me. It was there after me. My dad loves me very much and he is so proud of me. Alcohol gets in the way, but that is not a reason to be mad at my father. It is the nature of addiction.
When I start getting upset, I think about how I would feel if I tried to get rid of an innocuous habit. Like, stop shaving my armpits. Or, stop eating chocolate. Or getting a new job. Or even just getting stupid things done around the house. Its HARD. Been biting your fingernails for most of your life? Go ahead, try to stop. It is really hard. Same for alcohol, same for drugs, same for smoking. It is hard to quit, and if you struggle with it, it does not make you a bad person... it just makes you a human being. Sometimes love CAN be the inspiration and give the motivation to someone to stop their habit, but often, they just have to do it for themselves. Loving yourself is the hardest part.
5. ...But we are extremely loyal, even in the face of evidence that the loyalty is undeserved.
My husband tells me this constantly. I have some friends who are a constant source of aggravation. We miscommunicate, we rile each others nerves, things like that. But I do not give up. I cannot give up. In the face of all that, my heart says, stick to it, you know how they will be some day. And I do. I do feel like I know how these people will be some day, and I almost feel like I am supposed to shepherd them through it, that I am their guide on the River Styx. This relates to 7, 10, and 12.
But honestly, it has never really guided me wrong. Sure, there is some heart ache and some annoyance, but I have never been upset in the long run that I stuck with someone who did not appear to deserve it. I really think everyone deserves loyalty.
This relates back to what I said earlier - that I think there is more going on within me that just nurture. Spoiler alert... I really think a good chunk of it has to do with God. I really cannot explain how I am who I am without that piece.
6. We have a difficult time having fun.
Oh my gosh, how true how true! This statement is the epitome of me in high school. Overall, on the surface, very happy go lucky smart everything is awesome kind of girl. Deep down, I carried the burden of the world on my shoulders.
Imagine this - you stay after school for rehearsal or academics or whatever, and find that you are probably going to get home around 5. Your mom will not be home til after 6. Your brother is out in the neighborhood with his friends, or holed up in his room. You drive up your street, simultaneously hoping that your dad's car is there and not there. If it is not there, it means he is at the bar, but at least you do not have to face him before your mom gets home. If it is there, he could be drunk, he could be in a overly talkative alcohol-fueled friendly mood, or he could be grumpy, or he could be just nothing, though that is the least-likely option. You see his car there. You do not know what you are going to find when you walk in the door, but all you want to do is run away. You actually hate coming home. You never feel comfortable in your own house. You isolate yourself as much as you can without appearing to be obvious. You go in, you see your dad making dinner. That means overly friendly mode. You try to figure out how to escape a conversation with him without making him angry that you are not as happy as he is. You just want to get out.
Welcome to my life, circa 1997-1999. Day after day. And you have to wonder, how can a child mentally deal with that? How can you expect him or her to focus on school or have normal friendships and relationships? How can they be "normal" when the people who are supposed to be"perfect" are far from it and mentally they are not mature enough to be okay with that and with themselves?
And then you want them to have fun?
What is it like to have fun when you are constantly worried? How can you laugh and joke about boys and clothes and cars and school when something as serious as this is going on at home?
We get good at hiding it. We, hopefully, get good at compartmentalizing until we are mentally strong enough to take these things off the shelf and analyze them and make sense of them and be at peace with it. But as children, we hide.
7. We have difficulty with intimate relationships.
This strongly relates to the inability to have fun.
Children are supposed to be care-free, but I definitely was not. And it is hard to fit in and feel close to your peers when they have no idea what your life is like and have never had to face such burden.
I remember one particular instance.... I am not sure if it was in high school or in college. Things were really bad with my dad. My mom asked me if I thought they should get divorced. I told her that if it were me, there is no way I would put up with that bs. I told her I would support whatever decision she would make and would never fault or blame her for wanting or getting a divorce. I said she did not have to worry about my brother and I, that we would be there, and that we could make it.
This conversation had a tough affect on me. I tried telling someone about it. The response I got was "That sucks." And this person then proceeded to tell me about how their grandparent was sick and their family was worried.
NOW I understand where that person was coming from. NOW I know that they were trying to relate by telling me their own family hardships. NOW I can appreciate that they had limited perspective, and I could not expect them to "get it". But at the time, I almost cried. How could you say that your grandmother being sick is the same as going home to a place that is anything but home every day and that your mother asked YOU if she should divorce your father?
And so, it was difficult to feel truly close to people. It was hard for me to talk about what was going on at home, and when I tried, people did not have the experience or maturity to relate, which was absolutely not their fault. Yet, who could I open up to? Who could I talk to? It was isolating. It was difficult.
But it made me me. I am strong. I have perspective. I can see situations from many angles and I am realistic about what to expect of people. And yet, I still have hope. Sometimes undeserved, but I have it. And I would not be all these things without my childhood. Without my parents, flaws and all.
8. We over-react to changes over which we have no control.
This can be true, but it is something I have gotten past. I think I used to have more issue with this. I used to get into fights with Jon over how he was in Altoona and I missed him. You know what? It was not his fault! Why was I getting mad at him when I was really just mad at the situation? Take now, when he travels so much for work. In some ways, I can be mad at him because he has not made a lot of progress on finding a job that keeps him home. But at the same time, at least he has a job! We are both making good money and we both live a nice life. It is not the worst thing for him to be away for a few days. It is not like he is in Iraq, thank goodness.
I think this is something that takes time to grow out of, and fortunately, I have made good progress on it. There are things we cannot control, in particular, I cannot control my dad. I can hope for him. I can pray for him. But if he makes a choice to go to the bar or smoke a cigar or eat a half gallon of ice cream, I cannot control that. I cannot control his addictions. I cannot control his health. The biggest thing is to remind myself that sometimes addictions are bigger than love. And just cause he has a few does not diminish his love for him. It just can cover it sometimes like a veil. That does not mean it is not there.
He is out of my control. And it would do best for children of alcoholics to realize that the only person anyone can attempt to control is themselves.
9. We feel we are different from everyone else.
Abso-freaking-lutely. Ne'er truer words spoken.
I have always felt different, though I cannot necessarily attribute it JUST to my childhood. I always felt like I thought more than other people. I always felt like an old soul. I matured early in a lot of ways, which can be a result of taking on extra responsibilities as a child because you have to parent yourself.
But still, I cannot explain it all away with that.
I have often wondered how many people actually think. How many people ponder the universe and their place in it. How many really wonder about why we are alive, and what the purpose is. How many get the feeling deep in their stomach when considering the fact that we are on earth, which is a planet, in a solar system, in a galaxy, of many galaxies, of many systems, of the universe? Its amazing. Like a glimpse at eternity. You really think the Snookies of the world are thinking on that level? Doubtful.
But it seems to self-indulgent and so self-serving to think Wow, I am so different. Everyone is different. Everyone is the same. Truth in paradox. And who really cares if I am more self-actualized that someone else? La-de-dah for me. The real question is, what am I going to do with it? If I really do feel different, then I should make a difference, whether I am actually different or not. If I am not really different, but make a difference, that is what matters. And if I am truly different, then it is my responsibility to use it to make a difference. Same outcome, no matter the motivation.
So I think this author is right in saying we feel different... we did have a different childhood than a lot of others. But so what? You cannot use that as an excuse for who you are now, and you cannot use it to deflect against your own shortcomings. You have to be like, okay, cool, I can use this to my advantage.
10. We are either super responsible or super irresponsible.
If you do not know me, I will spare you the trouble of trying to puzzle it out: I am super responsible. If I make plans, I try to stick to them, unless illness prevents me from doing so. When that happens, I feel AWFUL about it. I hate taking off from school or work for any reason. In the past, I have taken on others personal burdens as my own and ached right along with them.
And yet at the same time, I do not always clean out the cat's litter box. I can be lazy, too.
Jon and I were discussing our basement the other night. He had a fun idea for a project for him to work on. Unfortunately, I rained on his parade by telling him (gently??) that we have so many other NECESSARY projects that we MUST do around the house that fun should wait. :/ How stupid am I? But I get antsy when stuff is not done. I can let it go to a point, but then I go in a whirlwind craze of cleaning and crafting and creating.
We also discussed our social life... or lack thereof. Since I have 4 days out of the month that I consider "mine", when I am not working or otherwise engaged, I feel like those are the days I need to do everything I was slacking on - cleaning, doing projects around the house, attempting to rest... And when I do not get time to do these things, I cannot have fun with friends. I feel anxious. I have responsibilities that I am letting go....
And it is stupid. I realize this. But how do you tell your body to stop being anxious when you cannot really help it? The best I can do is to stay on top of those small tasks, set goals for myself, and also schedule in play time. To make it my responsibility to see friends, to relax. To make that, in essence, a job that needs to get done. And I realize that is kind of psychotic, but for now, it is the best I can do.
I definitely got the super responsible side. But all things considered, I would rather be super responsible than super irresponsible.
11. We are impulsive.
Now this, I find interesting. The author says that children of alcoholics tend to pick a path impulsively but then get so mired and focused that they literally cannot change that path, no matter the consequences. For (personal) example - I took a job I was wary of. I just decided, what the heck, I will give it a try. BAD DECISION. It was so stressful that I started getting physically sick all the time - fevers and stomach issues and coughs and sniffles. I absolutely agonized over what the heck I should do. To most people, it seems obvious, to quit it, right? But then we ran into super responsible me. These kids NEEDED me. No one else could do MY job. What a load of bs. After debating and debating, I quit. And holy cow, talk about a relief. Good move there.... but after impulsively making a decision that perhaps I should not have made, I stuck with it through and through til I practically put myself in the hospital. Not cool.
Is this a result of my childhood? Not sure. It might be in relationship to my feelings of responsibility, but I would not say, on the whole, that I am all that impulsive. Just the same....
Maybe I am. I tend to make what seems to be spontaneous decisions all the time, but really I am going with my gut and trusting that my brains have worked everything out and I am merely just not quite conscious of it yet. If you ever get a chance, read the book Blink. Very interesting stuff. But my impulsive nature really stems from the idea that, even moving in the wrong direction, you are going to learn something that will lead you to the right direction. Movement is better than being a sitting duck, so if you are not sure what to do, just do SOMETHING. You will know sooner or later whether that was the right thing or not. Plus I believe in redemption and the ability to change your course. We are not stuck being who we are. We can change if we put enough effort into it. I really think that. It takes time and dedication. But we can do it. So I tend to pick a path and go and see where it leads me. I guess this is impulsive. And in the past, I have gotten kind of stuck, but I think I am beyond that.
12. We take ourselves very seriously.
Um, yes. I do take myself seriously, though at the same time I am seriously aware of my own bs. This is part of where I think God plays into who I am. I am very aware most of the time that who I am is not my body. It is also not fleeting anger or annoyance, it is not boring or mean. I really think the core soul of people is good and happy and loving. And yes, I take that seriously. So when analyzing a person, even myself, I have to wade past the bs outer shell of humanity and find the soul within. The good. That is what is important. That is what I really think people need to strive to see within others and themselves. All the outside stuff is just stuff. Who you are is not your image or even your feelings, which are transient. The real person is in there. And so I look for that. I respond to that. I do not always think of it or focus on it. I get caught up in the outside stuff plenty of times, but I always come back to this. And that is why I can forgive my dad. I love his soul. His humanity kinda sucks sometimes. His addictions though, are not who he is. And though they make it difficult to see the real him, he is there, somewhere, and I always have to focus on that.
There are plenty of other things to say about this, in particular how I think God factors in to who I am, because it is an interesting concept....
But school starts tomorrow and I have to be at work by 8. Sigh. Goodbye summer, you were way too fast for my tastes, but I loved you anyway.
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posted by FireWithin at 4:31 PM
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