passionfruit

A long-time friend of AA, Dr. Harry M. Tiebout, clarified brilliantly the difference between submission and the surrender idea which is implied in step one of the 12 steps.

"In submission," he said, " an individual accepts reality consciously but not unconsciously. He accepts as a practical fact that he cannot at the moment conquer reality, but lurking in his unconscious is the feeling: "there'll xome a day..."

This is not real acceptance. The struggle is ongoing. With this temporary yielding, tension continues; but when the ability to accept functions on the unconscious level as surrender, there is no residual battle. There is relaxation and freedom from strain and conflict.

p.135 One Day At A Time In Al-Anon

I don't think I have surrendered. As attested to by my desire to press charges against my husband and hold him accountable. Really I just want to hurt him as much as he hurt me. Slam Bam Man! See how it feels?

Seems to me though:

1. Surrendering happens only when you are at your wits end. I have been there and came back from the edge, but obviously did not surrender. If I can go there and come back without surrender, what else could possibly cause me to surrender?

2. Submission is the obvious step if you don't find yourself surrendering. Seems as though submission is simply acceptance. Wouldn't acceptance be the first step to surrendering? So is it possible they are stair steps to the same place as opposed to being one or the other? Simply different levels of the same idea? Sort of like a deepening of emotional awareness possibly?

So, I don't know how to get to submission. Plain and simple.

I will just wait and debate and see what comes over the next few days.

passionfruit

I think my life is manageable now because I left my A. I have been gone since Jan 15. I have been nc since march 28.

How my life became unmanageable:

I drank with him in the beginning: fun, bbq's, music.

I believed what I found was a lost, misunderstood soul misused by all the previous women in his life. I believed him to be a really nice guy who was victim to woman after woman after woman. Nasty creatures they are.

My first black eye was my opportunity to show him he could trust me. I won't call the police. I won't put you in jail. I will show you I am trustworthy. I will build a bond with you unlike the other nasty women in your life.

I had an opportunity to show him how loyal I was to him the first time he passed out on the floor. I did everything I could to drag him to the room and put him in his comfy bed so he would awake feeling loved. Ultimately, I couldn't move him. So instead, like a good wifey, I brought pillow and blankets and slept curled up to him so when he awoke, there I was being the perfect love.

Soon, the Saturday bbq's and canned heat tunes were followed by saturday nights where I was locked out of the house, and had to crawl in through windows where he was undoubtedly waiting on me. I was pinned to the ground or wrapped in his drunken embrace. I laid there for hours on end unable to move except tiny turns "because my side is hurting." I hated these wrestling matches so much they eventually became full blown fist fights. Don't lock me out of this f****** house again, a******.

I fought back against unreason positive that I could change him if I could just make him see.

I was so broken spirited with the second black eye I could not get off the couch Monday morning. I lay around all day thinking how lazy I was. I was hurting and could hardly move from the saturday tumble. I felt as if I were failing as a wife. I could not get up and clean house. I felt sorry for myself. I felt even worse when he told me to get over it. I am just being whiney.

I felt defiant when he choked me the first time. NOONE treats me this way. I was not going to die. I would see my way through this and I will show exactly who he really is. I will videotape him. I wiil change or destroy him.

I hated going out with him. Always a fight. Always women. Always a fight.

I felt like a martyr when he punched me full blown with his fist in the nose. When I looked in the mirror and saw the blood pouring down my face, I looked like ''carrie''. I don't want you touching me. Don't wipe it off. Look at me. Look at my martydom. See my righteousness. I am a victim of you and your drinking.

I hid his keys and wallet all weekend long every weekend to keep him off the streets.

I lied to my friends. I stopped talking to the girlfriends I have talked to every week since 8th grade.

I felt a tinge of guilt when Daddy went into the hospital and I did not go see him. If you weren't married to him, you would be here, my sister accurately stated.

I felt anxious when Daddy died and I was so afraid to leave him alone that I had to ask him to come with me to the funeral even though I did not want him to go.

I felt flat out anger, sheer anger when in the midst of again another bbq, this one with my sister who lives close by and her husband, when the phone rings to tell us that a different sister has died, only 3 months after daddy has died, and AH feels like he is no longer the center of attention. I could not even grieve because I Had to do my job and take care of his neediness. I just wanted to kick him when he was on the floor face down passed out 2 hours later.

I was isolated from my friends and family. I felt desperate when he began to pull away more and more.

I began to feel like I was ugly and unwanted the more time went by.

I never had a problem having men finding me attractive. There were always plenty interested in me.

Now, however, I felt ugly and unworthy. I was desperate for his affection, his touch, his lovemaking. I could not do anything to get his attention. No matter how hot I looked tonight.

I suggested we try toys, or magazines or adult movies only to be told how those things do nothing for AH. I had to get my jealousy under control. I had to admit that I had imagined all the crazy jealous sexual moves he made on the opposite sex. I had to get this sh** out of my head before I was worthy of his love.

I was going to die tonight and I knew it. As I lay with my head just outside the bedframe, I stuggled my way around so my feet were able to push against the wall and I pushed as hard as I could to get my head far enough under the bed so he would lose his grip on my neck. I pushed and pushed. It seemed like days. I kept being drug back out. Harder, push harder. Get your head under the bed. Get it under there. You are going to die if you don't. I began to plead for my life. Please Please Please..No No NO

I don't know to this day what stopped him. I only know he insisted I was going to die that night had he not finally came to his senses.

I thought I must be misunderstanding when his foot was rubbing my daughters.

I was very clear what I saw when he put the seatbelt on my daughter and touched her breast right in front of me.

I was very clear when I told him that some behaviors around and including my daughter were inappropriate at the marriage counselors office,


I screamed at the top of my lungs when I walked in the hallway to find him naked waiting for my daughter to walk out of her room and just catch a glimpse of him. OOPs.

It was torture watching him run to the window acting as though he were looking at the weather when he heard the 17 year old car next door drive up.



I felt like I was losing my mind, going without sleep, on a constant vigil, sleeping in front of my daughters door night after night after night. I was afraid, insane, angry and lost all at the same time.

Unmanageable doesn't even begin to describe where I've been the last 2 years.

Unmanagable is a step up from where I was. I was hangin on by a thread and when it broke. I lost it.

I began to physically attack him the last week I was there. I put a GPS in his truck. I tracked his cell phone. I was out of control.

My life had become way past unmanageable.

My life was insane. I was insane. I could no longer call this love. This was destruction. To quote a local officer of the men in blue.

''Ya'll both are sick."

Guess he was right.

passionfruit

Back to acceptance, surrender and submission:

From the booklet Acceptance by Abbey Press:

Acceptance is the only real source of tranquility, serenity, peace. It is also known as ''surrender," Bowing to the inevitable," "joining 'em." It can be acquired if you have an urgent desire to help yourself and are willing to ask God to help you.

From alanon one day at a time book:
"In submission," he said, " an individual accepts reality consciously but not unconsciously. He accepts as a practical fact that he cannot at the moment conquer reality, but lurking in his unconscious is the feeling: "there'll come a day..."


Acceptance = Surrender
Real acceptance = Surrender
unreal acceptance = submission

Again from Abbey Press:
In practice: face up to the problem that is driving you wild, and say, "Is there anything I can do about it right now, today?" If there is, do it! Don't put if off another minute. If there is nothing you can do about it today, acept and forget it.
You don't get over a twenty-foot wall by banging your head against it- you just get a headache. If you sit down in the shade of the wall and say, "maybe I'm better off on this side, after all." You may be sure that God will make things turn out better for you and for everyone else. This ability of his to make things work out for the best is known as divine providence.

This flies in the face of everything I have been taught. Things like:

Never give up!
God helps those who help themselves!

So now I am being told to change what was instilled in me from childhood.
To give up. To let God act instead of me helping myself. Maybe I am not ready for the steps yet.


Giving up was not in my vocabulary until the last few years. So I struggle with the thought of simply ''giving up"

It is spoken about like it is okay to give up. If I were trying to get a degree, or buy a house, or live a dream, people would say never give up, but in this case ( the alcoholic case) everybody says "Let Go, Let God." Give up and let him be an alcoholic.

I find it ironic because I used to say to my A. If your family really loved you, they would be here fighting for you like I am. (fighting to win his freedom from alcohol)

So now, you say, give up, let him be an A.

Which really makes no difference to me bc I am not with him, but still the irony stands out.

So my sponser says I am not ready for the steps.

Maybe i am simply overanalyzing everything!!