Nothing will ever make losing a loved one to addiction OK. But S-Anon sure helps the hurt, and has put me on a path of self-discovery and healing I'm not sure I would have found any other way. I've decided to share some of my 12 step journey with you, and with my children, eventually, as they grow and perhaps begin exploring this space. This is an essay I wrote about a year ago for a friend who was writing an amazing book about recovery. I hope something within it speaks to you.
Surrender
I came into S-Anon on a God-strike. I told myself He wasn’t
connecting with me, that He had totally dropped me. In truth, it was the other
way around.
Either way, the idea of surrendering my well-being to God
was just short of repulsive. It actually turned my stomach to knots to consider
letting Him be in charge. Several women in my groups taught me a really
specific surrender process: “On your knees, in the box, on the phone.” I didn’t think I needed that kind of
structure. I’d figure out my OWN way, I told myself.
Finally, after several weeks of hitting brick walls in my
recovery, and a good straight-talk challenge from one of my S-Anon sisters (as
I have come to think of them), I finally decided to try the actual recommended
process.
Over the next few days, I began to fill an old tin can with
scraps of paper proclaiming all the things I wanted to surrender to God. Prayer
became an actual mode of communication, rather than an evening ritual, and I listened
to my sponsor’s voicemail message more times than I care to recall. Most
importantly, though, I began to sense a new resilience in my serenity. I no
longer needed to run to the phone at every disturbing thought or event that
came up. I no longer felt like I was living for my next counseling session or
S-Anon meeting. I began to realize that God can and will actually take care of
me.
One really poignant example of this was at my first church
attendance after my husband had disclosed the extent of his addiction to me. Before my husband’s addiction had come to light, I considered us one of
the “pillar families” of our congregation. A strong, solid family that others
could look to for inspiration. I blush at my pride and my total ignorance to the
truth now.
As I prepared for church that day, I felt like every one
would be able to tell the crisis we were in the moment my children and I
entered the building. I felt so much shame at my situation, and a deep sense of
loss of belonging. I felt like I no longer fit into the religious family crowd
that I had previously considered myself a part of. Just before I left, I knelt
beside my bed and cried to my Father in Heaven about my apprehensions. I asked
him to help me to surrender other people’s reactions to me, my family, and my
situation. I wrote my note, dropped it into my tin can, and left a quick
message on my sponsor’s phone. Then it was out the door, to face my fear.
The way God picked up my heartache and shame and helped me
to feel loved and acceptable to Him was nothing short of miraculous. I sat in
those church pews and listened as a woman twice my age spoke of raising her
children alone, working hard at it, being exhausted, but still finding joy in
her children and her situation. She is recently remarried, and beamed with the
joy of finding a man with whom she could share her soul. This spoke so much
hope to me, helped me to see that God can help me to be happy in whatever
circumstances I find myself in, and that this marriage is not my only shot at
finding real love. In a lesson on families later in the meeting, the teacher
spent probably half her time in an extensive introduction of the topic during
which she helped to make it absolutely clear that no matter what our family
situations, we are acceptable and loved by God. That we need not mirror the
ideal, but rather look to the ideal as a pattern for our lives and goals. It
was exactly what I needed to hear. In my culture, those messages of accepting
what is not perfect in families sometimes get lost in the vigor to put forth to
the world what a strong family looks like.
Those two messages chased the fear and shame from my heart
and I was able to sit tall and proud in my place, knowing that I am standing
for truth in my family, and doing my best to show my children what a healthy
parent looks like. I left church that day, knowing that God knows and loves me.
That He helped prepare those speakers to teach what would soothe His daughter’s
broken heart, and that He prepared my heart to hear what it needed to hear as
well.
This surrender thing is the key to recovery. Before I was
inviting God to play an active role in my recovery by surrendering what hurts
to Him, all the stuff I was doing, all the counseling, and reading, and attending
meetings were just a new tool I had found to manage my situation myself.
Now that God is involved, I am beginning to feel real
progress, real peace, and sustainable serenity. Without God, the 12 steps are
hollow. It has been my experience that the most effective way to invite God
into those 12 steps is through the Surrender Process: “On your knees, in the
box (or tin can, as it were), on the phone.” Don’t cheat yourself of the most
powerful recovery tool available; do this. It makes all the difference.
