“There is a price that
is too great to pay for peace…. One cannot pay the price of self-respect.” ~Woodrow Wilson
Those of you who read this blog know that I have been on a
journey toward recovery, self-acceptance, and healing for the past year. In the
process of that work, I have come across several valuable written resources.
Some of them were given to me by friends, some I found through exploring the
ideas of others, and some I just happened upon by chance. A small publication
by Al-Anon which I recently read falls into the last category. I have never
been to an Al-Anon meeting, though I would likely benefit from attending. I
have been in relationships with alcoholics on and off for more than half my
life, and my patterns of behavior, coping, and living have all been affected by
alcoholism. While I was not specifically seeking assistance in dealing with
those issues, something about the title of this book – Courage to Change – caught my eye. That spoke to me because it
seems I sometimes lack the courage to make necessary changes in my life. The
book is a collection of daily meditations or devotionals for use
throughout the year. Some of the writings were meaningless to me, but others reached
into my heart and brought comfort or challenge, like the following passage:
“One of the first things I heard in Al-Anon was that we didn’t
have to accept unacceptable behavior. This idea helped me to see that I need
not tolerate violence or abuse, and that I had choices I hadn’t even recognized
before. I set some limits, not to control others, but to offer myself
guidelines so that I would know what was and was not acceptable and what to do
about it.” (Courage to Change, 1992; p. 51)
This goes along with something that I learned while reading Boundaries by Drs Henry Cloud and John
Townsend. You can love someone without loving his behaviors, and this love cannot
be allowed to prevent you from having healthy boundaries that protect you and
enrich your life. Setting limits is not a way to force others to change. It is
not a refusal to share or show love. It is a means by which you keep you keep
your identity and your sanity intact. Healthy people seem to do this without
effort. I have never been able to set limits or boundaries in my relationships
until now – and it is still extremely difficult.
The author of this particular meditation goes on to state
that though she considered herself healthy these days, there was one person
from whom she still accepted unacceptable behavior – herself. She berated and
blamed herself for everything that went wrong and never gave herself credit for
her efforts. She told herself how ugly, lazy, and stupid she was. Then she
realized that those were things she would not say to someone she cared about
and that she would not accept those words from anyone else. She learned to
start treating herself as though she were a treasured friend. Only then was she
assured that she was truly in recovery.
I have spoken before about how Christ’s command to “love
your neighbor as yourself” is a double-edged one; it assumes that before we
love our neighbor, we love ourselves. This is still the most difficult hurdle
for me to cross. It is so much easier for me to love others, to give myself
completely to someone else’s wants, and to forgive them for the most painful
hurts while continually castigating myself for the least little imperfections
that I often feel as though I have spent my life binding up the wounds of others
while I slowly bleed to death. It is not enough to say that I won’t continue to
do it – despite my best intentions, I still find myself falling back into the
pattern of giving people what I know they want, even when it hurts me to do so.
What is the solution? There are plenty of days when I feel
that it would be easier to withdraw from every relationship until I am healthy
enough to set my boundaries and hold to them. Then I wonder if I will ever be
that healthy. Will it simply be that I hold firm until I am faced by the
challenge of someone else’s needs? In the face of someone else’s desire will I
just collapse into the old habit of saying, “Do whatever you want, it doesn’t
matter”? There is a part of me that knows that withdrawal is not the answer and
that I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. Another part of me is so
damned tired of the struggle to maintain my sense of self that it frankly doesn’t
care if I have relationships or not. That part of me says it’s better to be
alone than to feel used, hurt, and resentful. For a long time I seemed to be
divided this way, with two modes of thought and no way to choose between them.
But lately, as I’ve been working to heal, there is another way of thinking that
is emerging. This other part of me recognizes that I have the right and the
power to determine what goes on in my life, and if someone else’s behaviors are
unacceptable then I do not have to accept them. I can draw a clear boundary
that says, “You have the right to choose what you do, and I have the right to
choose what I will tolerate. I will not tolerate this behavior.” This feels
healthy to me, and yet it also frightens me terribly.
The fear stems from several sources, but the strongest is
the abusive relationship I was in two years ago. In the beginning, my partner
often said that he appreciated my independence and my desire for autonomy.
Later on, he told me I had no rights in our relationship and that I was the
most selfish person he had ever known. When I did try to assert myself in that
relationship, the emotional abuse was immediate and horrific – diatribes and
alcohol-fueled rants lasted for hours and at the end of the eight months I
spent with him, the screaming sessions were interspersed with physical and
sexual assaults. Now when I even think about saying “I choose not to tolerate
this” my heart races and I tremble all over. Panic attacks and flashbacks
threaten and in order to keep peace, I end up saying nothing at all. This is a
kind of self-protection that is detrimental because it leaves me in anxiety
over the things that I did not have the courage to change.
Nearly everyone is familiar with the Serenity Prayer and how
it asks for the courage to change what can be changed along with the serenity
to accept what cannot be altered. I know that I can't change what others choose to do - they are free to exercise their will in their own lives. Their choices are their own, just as my responses are mine to determine. Where they are unhealthy I must change them – now I just need to find the courage to do it.
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