Paddle Boards

In my very first Nar-Anon meeting, a man shared about his experiences with his son and his addiction to cocaine. One image that he gave in regards to his own struggle I refer to continuously. He said,  "My addict is on his own paddle board and I am on mine. If I try to let him climb on mine or if I try to get on his, we will both fall in the water." Further to the point, the calmer I am on my board, the calmer the sea is for his board.

This has been a really helpful image for me to reflect over any time a problem arises that I feel compelled to act on. My addict's relationship with his family is not on my paddle board. My addict's car breaking down because he refuses to get the oil changed is not on my paddle board. My addict losing his health insurance because he hasn't been working is not on my paddle board. My addict perpetually risking a DUI or harm to himself and others is not on my paddle board. The only things that I need to concern myself with are the items on my paddle board.

This analogy has been helpful in making the decisions that needed to be made for my family. In order for my husband's problems to remain on his paddle board and to not interfere with mine, I had to figure out how to move them to one or the other completely. For example: I can not be a stay at home mom anymore. His employment needs to be solely on his paddle board and not mine. If the kids and I are dependent on him in any way, that can't happen. This has been helpful and reassuring as I sorted out what actions needed to be taken and attempted to do so without vengeance and pain as a motivator.

So over these last few months, as it became clear that changes had to be made for the sake of our family, it has made things simpler to remember that I do not want any shared responsibilities with him until he has found a program and recovery. My responsibilities and paddle board are keeping me plenty busy! The legal separation has helped with making these distinctions very simple for me and for him. This wouldn't be the right path for every spouse in a relationship with an addict, but it has been for me. I needed the boundaries to be crystal clear for when he spends time with the kids, what his financial responsibilities include and the repercussions for not fulfilling them, etc. 

I am very grateful for the Nar-Anon and Al-Anon programs. This piece of wisdom would have taken a very long time to realize and understand without the support of people with common experiences. There has been so much value for me to listen every week to these people I've grown to love. I can not relate to everyone's story, but I can certainly appreciate their desire to be there.

Al-Anon: Taking the First Step

In Al-Anon and Nar-Anon, the twelve steps mirror the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous. Step One reads:

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol (or addict)—that our lives had become unmanageable.

I knew my husband had a problem for a long time, but lived in denial for at least two years. Part of it was an ignorance of addiction and Al-Anon helped me to understand and have a desire to learn more about it. I think I struggled most with admitting there was a problem out of my control, because it meant I would probably have to confront him about it. I don't like confrontation. The path of least resistance is always my favorite path. Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than confrontation. Every personality test I've ever taken says the same thing: I'm a peacemaker or diplomat. So the thought of bearing the responsibility of telling him that I thought he had a substance abuse problem, was too much for me to bear. I don't know that I ever would have had the strength without Al-Anon or Nar-Anon. In the past I have exhausted every round-about way of telling him he had a problem and felt some degree of guilt for not being more clear in hind sight.







The first meeting that I attended was a Nar-Anon meeting. We live in a large metro area so there are a lot of meeting times to choose from and I started just going at the times that worked. In my very first Nar-Anon meeting, I knew I had found something that could help. I had been advised to attend a meeting several years before but had thought it sounded crazy. How could I sit in a room with people who have horror stories about their addicts and the worst thing mine has ever done is sleep on the couch too much? But they were warm and wonderful and every single person who shared that night made me realize I was exactly where I was supposed to be. It took several different meeting times for me to find a group I really feel close to, but I will never forget some of the wisdom of that first meeting and the overwhelming joy when I left: at last, I was not alone. 


The kids and I left to stay at my parents one day this fall when I really just couldn't do it anymore. He was asleep on the couch so he wasn't even phased by it. It was over two weeks later before he called to ask what he needed to do for us to come home. I finally said very clearly that he had a problem and it needed to be addressed in a 12 step program. He pretended not to understand and I repeated the same message. He repeated his question several times, hoping for a different answer every time. By the time we hung up the phone I had told him 8 times the same message. It was not pleasant, but it was liberating. I knew this was my first step; not excusing myself from the truth and the confrontation for his sake. I knew he might hate me and I knew he didn't care to hear what I was saying, but I said it any way. This was my Step One.

I know that I am powerless over his addictions and my life had become completely insane in efforts to change and fix the situation. Life is certainly not getting exponentially simpler living as a single parent, but learning to and having the confidence to set boundaries is a lot easier when I know he knows where I stand.

The Beginning

This is an excerpt from a journal I started keeping before attending any Al-Anon or Nar-Anon meetings:

It has been six years since I met my husband. I was swept off my feet by his carefree charm, love of debate, intellect and quiet humility. We shared similar beliefs about marriage and plans for our lives so marriage was quickly decided and babies followed shortly after. Our third is on his way now and motherhood has been my constant saving grace. But now, after these few short chaotic years, I want to feel whole again.

My husband has ADHD. He was diagnosed when he was young and started taking Adderall in high school. By the time I met him he had been taking it, and presumably abusing it, for several years. It was not something we talked about and it took me a long time to understand why his moods and energy levels seemed to change with the wind. When we were dating he would stay up all night for two weeks at a time to read. Then, suddenly, I wouldn't be able to reach him for most of a weekend. I pieced the puzzle together over those early years with no truth from him on the subject. He genuinely thought (and still thinks) it is a non-issue and therefor, nothing to discuss.

Over the last couple of years, I have attempted to address the issue in every passive way possible. The tension in our lives has increased with each passing month and each conversation about the medicine. When he doesn't take enough medicine, his decisions are inexplicably reckless. He will sleep at inappropriate times, spend money he doesn't have and drink more than he should. I have spent countless nights worrying about him for one reason or another but they all trace back to one route cause: He has not taken his medicine properly.

My life is different from most people I know now.

How can I explain to someone that I love and want to have a future with that I may not ever be able to forgive him for letting me feel completely alone when our babies were born? And that I may ask him not to be there when this baby is being delivered? Would it be worse to be alone or have all of my hopes dashed when I realize my husband is indifferent to my pain and fear, let alone the baby's arrival? Is there anything more hurtful than indifference?

One Day At A Time

In Al-Anon, an often repeated phrase is "One Day At A Time". I have heard this phrase repeated countless times in my short time in the program and have noticed it is a daily mantra for many of my fellow Al-Anon members. It's a favorite in my group. My first few meetings I thought these people might be a little nutty the way they respond to phrases like this: Over zealous nodding and agreement like they were in church and the preacher was just really on point today. It gave me the impression that this one phrase had been revolutionary when it seemed like a very simple, almost idiotic and trite piece of wisdom.

Living with an active addict and alcoholic brought so much pain and confusion that I felt like existing "one day at a time" was really the only option. Wasn't that what I was already doing? I couldn't plan ahead. I couldn't set goals. I couldn't see past the current mood or the most recent fight. Any time I made progress on something so simple as getting the house clean or complex as setting up a new household budget, it felt like it was immediately dirtied or muddied up with a discouraging comment. Thanks for the advice, guys, but maybe less cliche's and more practical advice would help? For example: How do I get my husband to stop drinking and start working? Is there a cute little catchphrase for that?

What I couldn't see then and am starting to see now is that this one tiny snippet of the program, this over-used bit of common sense, has changed lives. People like me who were lost, alone and living in all encompassing fear could not see the damage we were doing to ourselves and our families by getting swallowed up in just surviving the day without any perspective.

One Day At A Time to me used to mean, "One minute at a time... just make it through this". Every day was a battle to not lose my mind. I was becoming so accustomed to riding a roller coaster every day I forgot that the only person who could get me off the ride, was me. It has taken a lot of practice and I am still working really hard at applying the lesson, but when problems arise and I start to feel the panic of the unknown, I can take a deep breathe and remember to take things "One Day At A Time".

Now, One Day At A Time means "I'm going to be ok, no matter what today brings."

The real wisdom of this piece of advice, in my life, is that it has allowed me to be open to tomorrow by not getting bogged down in today. By not being so focused on the disappointments of any given day and absorbing my thoughts with the implications of those disappointments on the future with my husband, I have unburdened the dreamer within myself. Through the twelve step program in Al-Anon I'm allowing myself the grace to know that any one moment may be really hard, but that doesn't have to define the next 24 hours. By just focusing on the problems of today as they effect the day and not the rest of my life, I can move on with my life and make it something worth living.

This phrase has also been helpful in rebuilding specific areas of my life as they were unrecognizable in their brokenness before. One Day At A Time has also meant "One thing at a time". While trying to pay off debt, trying to get the house in order, trying to get a degree, everything. Even as simple as trying to get the kids dressed and out the door some days (Ok. Every day). One step at a time. One class at a time. One missing shoe at a time. Take a deep breathe and remember that this is One Day. One of many.

My life before Al-Anon felt like I was being rushed down stream in a strong current. I kept reaching out for branches or anything to hold on to and trying to get back to shore but the current was too strong. Now I feel like I've at least found a canoe. Even if I never reach peaceful waters, maybe I can enjoy the ride.