Ann's Story
Ann's Story
When I was 6 years old, my father was dying of cancer, but nobody told me what cancer was and that he would die. In those days very few survived that disease. I was "his little nurse" and I thought that if I loved him enough and made sure he took his medication that he would get better. When he died, I felt that somehow it was my fault.
A year later, a crazy person (a stranger) got into our basement and tried to murder my mother and I. He hit her with the blunt end of an axe and did sufficient harm that she would suffer with epilepsy the rest of her life. She was able to get away and grab me and run down the street to a neighbours, called the police and the man was taken away. We lived in a good neighbourhood and did not live a life conducive to violence of any kind - it was just a freak thing. But I remember my mother telling me that the only thing that kept her conscious was knowing that if he killed her he would kill me and that only through the grace of God she was able to get away.
Looking back on that, I recognize that my codependency began at a very early age, and that for me it was based on a fear of bad things happening to people I loved.
Although I lived in a loving home, the above incidents were never spoken of - they thought I would forget. And being stiff upper lip Anglos's we didn't discuss our emotions or even display them much. Even to appear too happy was to appear giddy and frowned upon. So I learned to withhold my emotions, never showing anger or pain, never talking about fears and frustrations.
My codependence was not particularly noticeable to me or to others until my son became an addict and all my worst fears were triggered. I felt an obsessive desperation to save him doing everything I could think of to save him. For many years I enabled him, thinking that if he could live in a loving home, and if I could control his whereabouts and money that he would be okay. I knew nothing of addiction. When he finally admitted using crack and went to his first program (a 30 day out-patient program), I thought that after 30 days our lives would be perfect again. I was so very wrong and didn't listen to counsellors who tried to explain relapse and the struggle that can go with addiction. I just felt that they didn't know my son.
I reached my bottom one night when I went to the crackhouse to get my son to leave. When they wouldn't let me in, saying he wasn't there, I threatened to kick down the door (totally out of character for me and totally insane). He did come out and I spent the night at his place, and when I left the next day he resumed his using. I knew then that I was about to break and lose my mind.
So I reached out and went to CoDA (Codependents Anonymous) and met a woman there, who is now my sponsor, who had been through the same pain and she was sane, peaceful and strong. I could see that she had something I wanted - serenity. Going to meetings, working the steps, and furthering my recovery here on these boards has brought me out of the darkness and into the light. I have never felt such joy as when I found my own spirituality and connected with God's plan for me. The 12-step program literally saved my life.
It's been a long journey, and I have overcome many obstacles along the way and will encounter more I am sure, but today I wouldn't change my life with anyone. The pain that brought me to this program is the greatest gift I have ever been given. Without the pain I would never have found what I have today - a happy, healthy life full of joy and beauty. And my life is beautiful, regardless of how my son is doing. I have replaced anger with compassion and have a good relationship with him (albeit with many bumps along the way) and I am free - thank you God.
And thank you Jon, for providing a place where I can recharge my spiritual batteries and remember all that I have been taught. The friends I have found here have walked with me every step of my journey, held me up when I could no longer stand, cried with me, and taught me to laugh again, most of all at myself. I am forever grateful.
Hugs
Ann
A year later, a crazy person (a stranger) got into our basement and tried to murder my mother and I. He hit her with the blunt end of an axe and did sufficient harm that she would suffer with epilepsy the rest of her life. She was able to get away and grab me and run down the street to a neighbours, called the police and the man was taken away. We lived in a good neighbourhood and did not live a life conducive to violence of any kind - it was just a freak thing. But I remember my mother telling me that the only thing that kept her conscious was knowing that if he killed her he would kill me and that only through the grace of God she was able to get away.
Looking back on that, I recognize that my codependency began at a very early age, and that for me it was based on a fear of bad things happening to people I loved.
Although I lived in a loving home, the above incidents were never spoken of - they thought I would forget. And being stiff upper lip Anglos's we didn't discuss our emotions or even display them much. Even to appear too happy was to appear giddy and frowned upon. So I learned to withhold my emotions, never showing anger or pain, never talking about fears and frustrations.
My codependence was not particularly noticeable to me or to others until my son became an addict and all my worst fears were triggered. I felt an obsessive desperation to save him doing everything I could think of to save him. For many years I enabled him, thinking that if he could live in a loving home, and if I could control his whereabouts and money that he would be okay. I knew nothing of addiction. When he finally admitted using crack and went to his first program (a 30 day out-patient program), I thought that after 30 days our lives would be perfect again. I was so very wrong and didn't listen to counsellors who tried to explain relapse and the struggle that can go with addiction. I just felt that they didn't know my son.
I reached my bottom one night when I went to the crackhouse to get my son to leave. When they wouldn't let me in, saying he wasn't there, I threatened to kick down the door (totally out of character for me and totally insane). He did come out and I spent the night at his place, and when I left the next day he resumed his using. I knew then that I was about to break and lose my mind.
So I reached out and went to CoDA (Codependents Anonymous) and met a woman there, who is now my sponsor, who had been through the same pain and she was sane, peaceful and strong. I could see that she had something I wanted - serenity. Going to meetings, working the steps, and furthering my recovery here on these boards has brought me out of the darkness and into the light. I have never felt such joy as when I found my own spirituality and connected with God's plan for me. The 12-step program literally saved my life.
It's been a long journey, and I have overcome many obstacles along the way and will encounter more I am sure, but today I wouldn't change my life with anyone. The pain that brought me to this program is the greatest gift I have ever been given. Without the pain I would never have found what I have today - a happy, healthy life full of joy and beauty. And my life is beautiful, regardless of how my son is doing. I have replaced anger with compassion and have a good relationship with him (albeit with many bumps along the way) and I am free - thank you God.
And thank you Jon, for providing a place where I can recharge my spiritual batteries and remember all that I have been taught. The friends I have found here have walked with me every step of my journey, held me up when I could no longer stand, cried with me, and taught me to laugh again, most of all at myself. I am forever grateful.
Hugs
Ann
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