Al-Anon Family Group

The Forum magazine articles - May 2007

The following articles from the May 2007 issue are reprinted with permission of The Forum, Al-Anon Family Group Hdqs., Inc., Virginia Beach, VA.  For more articles, check The Forum archive.  
 

When I entered my first Al-Anon meeting, I was terrified, lost, and desperate, while at the same time hopeful.      I had been aware of AA meetings, but hadn’t heard of Al-Anon until the week before, when my marriage counselor suggested it to me. I was unhappy in my marriage and felt my wife’s drinking had been part of that. I hadn’t yet realized that my life had become unmanageable.      I had been struggling for years to improve my relationship with my wife. I didn’t know that there were others like me, that there was a support group for us, and that I was part of the problem.      When I walked into that first meeting, I saw unfamiliar, yet sympathetic faces. As I nervously settled into my chair, Anne began to read the opening statement, and her calm manner and soft voice soothed my nerves.      When she asked if there were any newcomers, I shyly raised my hand, and was surprised that all she wanted to know was my first name. The resounding “Hellos” and “Welcomes” from the group were heartwarming.      The Steps seemed foreign to me as they were recited—with the exception of Step One. What a concept—acknowledging that I was powerless over alcohol, that my life had become unmanageable. I had felt powerless for years, and didn’t know that it was OK to feel that way. I thought I was supposed to have all the answers.      The meeting was a blur of people sharing. I couldn’t absorb what was being said. I was too focused on my own pain.      After the meeting ended, I was approached by several members who gave me a warm smile and a firm handshake. They let me know that I was exactly where I needed to be. They encouraged me to come back, without prying into my situation. It took several meetings for me to draw up the courage to share.      Nearly two years later, I still remember that first meeting and how the meeting chair and those who came up to me afterwards eased me into my journey towards recovery.

 

The first time I had breast cancer, I didn’t have Al-Anon. I didn’t know how to ask for help. I was too ashamed of the imperfection of my marriage and my inability to fix my alcoholic husband. Surely no one would be willing to help someone so unworthy.      So I went to medical appointments alone. I pushed through and held on, doing my treatment but otherwise ignoring and dismissing the whole experience as best I could.      This second time with breast cancer I do have Al-Anon. And that makes so much difference. I have been willing and able to ask for help. And so I have been given the gifts of food, help, company, and support.      At meetings, I’m able to cry with people when I feel crummy and openly admit it when I’m scared. When I felt low I asked my friends to send cards and my days were immeasurably cheered.      I pray to God specifically about helping me deal with the symptoms and the fears—and I can sit in peace.      My body has to physically deal with the treatments alone, but I needn’t hide and white knuckle the rest of the effects. In the middle of six months of chemo I hit a hard time. My Sponsor helped me do a thorough Fourth Step about my resentments toward cancer. I had an opportunity to use the program for improved spiritual health.      Here was another disease that I was trying to control, but am powerless over. I had gone back to old behaviors and back to the way I used to feel: small, sad, and hiding.      Nothing could show me more clearly that I need Al-Anon, regardless of whether the catalyst is an alcoholic or cancer. We went through the Steps and I was able to replace fear with faith and breathe easier. I could actively do what my body and soul need, and accept that sometimes I feel yucky anyway. I am learning to accept that I can’t control the outcome.      I use the slogans and principles of the program—and my life is better. “Easy Does It,” when I’m tired; “One Day at a Time,” when my head is confused by choices. Gratitude is a way to ease myself into deeper prayer. And doing service by talking to the newly diagnosed makes my ongoing treatment easier. I am able to stay open, see my gifts, and let go of what I can’t control. I have more serenity—and even happiness—in the midst of my difficulties.