auroraxborealis

Good evening.

I was thinking tonight about my relationships with my family.

As many of you may know, my dad is an RA, sober my entire life. He started AA about a week before I was born. He did his 90/90 and he told me over the summer his last meeting was about two years ago, so he is still (somewhat) active after 26+ years.

My parents to me are what recovery and a healthy marriage can look like. They have been married for over 30 years. They make each other laugh and smile, and can drive each other up the wall. They work together, as a team, to build their lives.

I didn't know my dad was an alcoholic until I was about 10. And I didn't really know what that mean until I was in high school. My mom drinks responsibly.

But I wonder if I'm more like my mom than I think. We both fell in love with As. I don't think my mom knew how big of a problem my dad's drinking was. I know her mother, my only grandma, had had some conversations with both my parents, and from what I've pieced together, she was one of the first to voice her concerns about my dad's drinking.

I remember when I was in 6th grade, I wanted to walk home from school. I lived about a mile and a half away, and a group of my friends all walked home. My mom was so worried that something bad was going to happen that she would follow me in her car and pick me up halfway at the store, after most of the kids split ways. Now I grew up in a tiny town in Alaska, so we had to be more worried about moose and bears than human predators. But I remember being so embarrassed that I wasn't allowed to walk. Like my mom didn't trust me, or my friends, or think I was old enough. She was so ANXIOUS, about everything and I think I took it on myself to make her feel ok.

Tonight, I picked my mom up from work (I left early. We work in the same building, not actually together) and were figuring out what we wanted for dinner. We settled on pizza. Then we were trying to figure out whether to pick up or deliver. She said if we had it delivered, I would have to get the door because she would be too nervous. I laughed and asked what she meant. She explained she wouldn't know how long until the delivery person arrived, how to pay, how much to tip, yadda yadda yadda.

I couldn't believe it. She's relaxed so much since I was a kid, but she still gets anxious about what I perceive as the silliest things.

We ended up going in and ordering, then I took her home and went back to pick it up. It took about ten minutes longer than expected, and right before our order was up, she texted and asked if everything was ok. I drove literally less than a quarter mile away to pick up a pizza and she asks if I'm ok.

I think that might weigh into, at least in a small way, why I do what I do.

I remember sitting with X one night and being exhausted. Just by being with him. I asked him if everything was ok and he said sure why? I said I can feel your energy. I told him I can take on the mood of other people, and I could feel the weight he was carrying. He didn't say much. I never thought his problems were my problems, but I did think they were OUR problems. Because as a couple, we were supposed to work together and conquer the world. No wonder he dumped me.

I don't know. Just thinking. Back to my Dexter marathon. Goodnight. Thanks for reading.

jjj111

Aurora, I think that's very insightful! And I think it's so useful to think about what patterns we learned in our family growing up. Your story really rang a bell with me--my Mom was the same way, always so nervous that something would happen to the people she loved! I think she had a real fear of abandonment. It brought to mind a very similar story. There was a grocery store a mile from our house and I was craving some cheese bread they baked there and no one wanted to drive me, I was about 12, and I decided I would walk, and I remember my mother following me in the car, crying and pleading with me to get in! I guess some of the clinginess I struggle with in relationships was definitely learned from her example.

JOIE12

I think the fear that a mom feels out of love for our treasured children. Doing everything that we can to bring them safely to adulthood. Nothing complicated, just love <3

jjj111

I'm sure even mothers with healthy boundaries sometimes do get upset and scared about their children showing independence,, but in my Mom's case there was more to it. Her mother had a very serious drinking problem, attempted suicide several times over the years, and was committed several times to an asylum. I think my Mom was really scarred by that and had a hard time trusting that the people she loved would make it through the day. And so she repeated patterns, marrying an alcoholic and becoming an alcoholic herself.

auroraxborealis

Growing up my cousins (dad's sister's family) had a cabin next door. They came up on weekends and most of the summer. They were always amazed at how sheltered my brother and I were. We lived on a street where there were no other kids until I was 8. Literally, miles from other kids.

Many times I wasn't allowed to do things because of my mom's anxiety. She would be too nervous, and I think it became my job to make her feel better by not doing them. It was easier. I couldn't even keep a fan by my bed because my mom was afraid my hair was going to get sucked up into it and I would die. She was like the lady on Lemony Snickett's who lived secluded becuase she was so afraid of life.

I have no doubt she did the things she did in part because she loved me. But I think sometimes her fear and anxiety got the best of her. And me.

I'm able now to tell her, no these are your feelings. It's like when mothers tell their children to put their coats on because they're cold. I am able to tell her I'm not cold. I'm ok. I just wonder how much I still bend to others. Something to evaulate when I'm actually around people again.

auroraxborealis

My mom grew up in Rural AK and was picked on a lot for being one of the only two white kids (the other being her younger brother). I think some of her insecurity stems from that.

Also, my grandma is also an A+ worrier. My grandparents were teetotalers, and the more I learn about my grandpa, the less he sounds like a warm and fuzzy man. Even that he wasn't a nice man. I think my grandma probably spent a lot of time and energy trying to make everything perfect and comfortable for him.

Watching my grandma fret over my uncle over the holidays when they visited was pretty elightening. Worried about whether he's hungry, thirsty, comfortable, etc. while not so much asking my mom the same things. Of course, it was our home turf and the two of them were visiting, so maybe I'm reading too much into it.

I do see the same dynamic with my mom, brother, and myself. Even if I'm asked something, it seems to go with what my brother says. Its pretty easy to learn not to give your opinion if at the end of the day it doesn't matter much.