dolce7dolore

So I know I'm not generally very positive on this website, but I thought I would share an experience. During my spring break, my brother and I went to Barnes and Noble to read up on some ACoA related material after a very disappointing alateen meeting, and read for about an hour. I found one that I really enjoyed (Janet G. Woitiz or something like that) and decided to buy it. I told my brother about how mortified I was to be buying a book like that, especially since its title is ADULT CHILDREN OF ALCOHOLICS, not very discrete. So we go up to this nice looking old lady to buy it. She looks at the book and pauses. I just think "great...." and then she picks it up, looks at me, and says "This book changed my life. I went back to school and everything."

Needless to say, I was speechless. My brother's initial reaction was that he thought it was a great moment because I was so embarrassed to buy that book and she turned that mortifying moment into a memorable one. We later talked about how it was just a unique moment because here was this normal looking woman who just happened to have gone through the same things we did. Nothing more needed to be said, it was like this mutual understanding between us; she had gone through the turmoil and came out successful, and we were just beginning to muddle through it.

dothi

lol, That's a great encounter! A nice gem for you and your brother to share. I think as you continue through recovery you'll find many flashing moments of incredible strength interspersed through the dark stuff. Us ACoAs aren't just trauma victims, you know. We've got great passion and strong hearts

My sister and I (ACoAs of an AF) found a poem online that left us splitting our sides (the very last line in particular). It might hit the spot for you and your brother


I

I walk down the street;
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk;
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless,
It isn't my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street;
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk;
I pretend I don't see it;
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place, but it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street;
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk;
I see it is there;
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
My eyes are open,
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street,
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

GiveLove

I'm always surprised and delighted to find people who've struggled on the same road.

Last month I was in an airport on the other side of the country from me, and these two women were sitting across from me in the waiting area. They were talking about a little retreat they were joining with some other women, and what I could hear sounded really nice. Then one of them said, "We didn't cause this, we can't control it, we can't cure it." I looked up at them and smiled and said "Got that right," and they smiled back, and one said, "You too, huh?" There was a moment there of connection, just like with your B&N clerk.

You & your brother have a community, dolce. It's all around you, hidden inside regular people you pass every day. You just never see that part of them, because they're hiding it too. The beautiful stuff starts happening when you can start identifying and bringing them together to share ideas & solutions to stuff --- that's why I like SR so much. A hand-picked community of people who "get me."

DesertEyes

wow dolce, thank you for sharing that. It is truly wonderful when perfect strangers suddenly surprise us by being "one of us".

I wonder what that lady at the B&N thinks of all the people that buy "our" books? I bet it gives here a "charge" just like it gave you.

Mike