A Scary, But Healing, Truth

I write this with some trepidation and no small amount of fear in my heart.

I've been waiting to see if the moment would come when I was ready to talk about this - a little - and was open to that moment never coming at all.

But, much to my surprise, the moment seems to be here.  I don't know why. I don't control these things anymore; that much I have accepted.

And the reality is that this isn't anyone's business but my own, my family's and my recovery community.

But after praying on it, asking for advice, getting some advice I first didn't want to hear and have absorbed and thought about long and hard, I've decided to write- a little -about something that could shock or even hurt some of you.  I needed to be ready for that reaction.  I needed to remind myself of the advice I give on a daily basis - that your truth can never be wrong, because it's yours, and you are under no obligation to share it with anyone who isn't safe.

Once I put this out there I don't control where it goes, but it has gotten to the point where I feel enough past it to be secure in putting it out there, because it is what it is, anyway, and now that I've done a lot of work on myself and come to terms with it, I feel hypocritical hiding my truth out of pride.

Last year, some time after finding the lump in my neck, I had a relapse.  It was brief, and terrifying, and almost took me right down.  I am lucky to have the supportive family I have, the recovery network I have, and the ability to know what to do:  march into a safe, sacred circle of fellow alcoholics in recovery and start again.  

I am not going to share the details -when, where, how, why - those are reserved for my most intimate recovery community.  I have learned I don't have to share every gory detail to still be truthful.  I'm not going to say how much time I have now, because in order for me to come back from this relapse I had to focus on the fact that we all - every one of us - only have 24 hours.  A 24 hour reprieve from the obsession and compulsion of alcoholism.

I will share one very important anecdote, though, for those of you filled with shame (especially mothers) who keep relapsing, and the guilt is keeping you stuck.   Greta knew about this relapse - we talked about it - and she said, "You've always said it's not the mistake you make, it's what you do about it that matters, Mom."

THAT's recovery.  That is a kid who doesn't have a perfect Mom who works a Perfect Program (there is no such thing) and is immune to relapse - none of us are.  But that is a kid who has learned that mistakes are part of life -without them we don't grow - and it's how we respond to them that matters.  Do we deny and stuff them?  Or do we face the hard truths and grow?

I made other mistakes along the way - some say to me "after THAT year you had?  Who could blame you?"

I'm not looking to assign blame or make excuses; I'm looking for the truth, and that fine line between what is everyone's business, what is my business, and what is meant to be kept sacred in my recovery community.

I can see now why that relapse had to happen.  I was in for a long, hard road, and I had to surrender to my disease in a more meaningful way - in other words I had to scare myself silly - because over the coming months I also had to surrender to fear, anxiety, mortality and control, as I lay in my bed, sick and wondering if I was going to make it, and fight it or let it go.  Letting it go brought peace.  I think the relapse reminded me of my powerlessness over so much in life.

I am fearful of judgment, of course I am. I have a massive case of "who do you think you are's", and I'm scared of my community's reaction.  But not that scared.  Not scared enough to finally get this truth out there, and move on, one day at a time.

I write about this here mostly to  help myself, first.  Secrets keep me sick, and I'm not ashamed of the relapse anymore (that was months of work).  What does make me ashamed is hiding the truth.

By telling the truth I'm doing the healthiest thing for me, while still trying to keep some boundaries firmly intact.

I'm grateful to all of you for all the support you have always shown me - I realize that some of you may feel duped and not want to offer that support anymore. That could be a consequence, and I'm ready for it.  People pleasing is one of the things that lies at the heart of my disease, and truth is the antidote to that demon.  Saying my truth and being okay with not being universally liked or respected is healing for me. And terrifying; I won't say it isn't.

No matter how this post is received, I am grateful - beyond words - for my recovery, for the lessons I've learned over the past year, for my family, friends, and for YOU.