Jody Lamb: Empowering Adult Children of Alcoholics to Create Fulfilling Lives

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These posts are about topics related to adult children of alcoholics aka ACOAs or COAs.

Celebrating the second edition of Easter Ann Peters’ Operation Cool

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In 2009, I needed an escape from my out-of-control life. I didn’t see a way out of the gripping sense of responsibility over my alcoholic mother, my co-dependent father and my young sister. I had to keep going. But I couldn’t smile anymore. For the first time in my 26 years, I finally realized that I couldn’t fix Mom and I couldn’t cover up my sadness or disappointment in how grownup felt. It was my rock bottom. Only then did I start my healing journey.

As a girl, I loved writing stories. So from that rock-bottom point, I enrolled in a community college creative writing course for fun. Out quickly came a story of a girl named Easter Ann with an alcoholic mother. Writing the story was cathartic. I felt more hopeful and more like the grownup me I hoped to become. I felt free-er.

My instructor Jane Ratcliffe said, “Keep going. You really must keep going.” She asked me to read the first chapter aloud to my classmates. A young man, dressed all in black and seemingly angry at the world (and having to go to class) said: “I totally connect with that character. Brings me back to what I had to go through with my dad. This story must be told. That’s a book there.” If not for their encouragement, this story may have been a forgotten homework assignment.

Before long, I had written the full Easter Ann Peters’ Operation Cool manuscript – the kind of story I wish someone had written and given to little-kid me. I discovered very few books for kids that included anything about parental alcoholism. Alcoholism and addiction in families affects several children in every classroom, in every city, in every country. How could there be so few books about it?

For that reason, I felt Easter’s story had to be a real, live book. I joined local writers’ groups and national associations for children’s book writers. I edited and attended workshops. The story was rejected by dozens of publishers. The NYC-based agents and editors said the topic was “too niche” and suggested that I downplay the parental alcoholism element and focus more on the bullying and friendship themes.

They didn’t believe in the message or the mission. I almost gave up but my sister encouraged me. I wanted to set a good example for her so I kept trying. Finally, in 2012, a small publishing company just got it. Scribe Publishing Company published Easter Ann Peters’ Operation Cool, a middle-grade novel for ages 8-13. I am forever grateful for their belief in the message and in me.

Various news outlets and bloggers kindly spread the news. I heard from people around the world who shared their personal stories and gifted me encouragement to continue writing about my experience as an ACoA. “It’s so needed,” they said.

Over the last five years, I’ve met thousands of young and adult children of alcoholics around the world. In school visits, I’ve spoken with kids about writing, my book and my experience growing up with an alcoholic mother. All those kids were inspiring but one visit left a mark on my soul. I went to a school for kids who’d experienced trauma; “emotional challenges,” the principal said. A bright, bubbly 9-year-old girl told me all about her love of writing, reading and her plans for grownup life. She was the most mature and enthusiastic 9-year-old girl I had ever met. Then she leaned in and said, “I never want to leave school, Miss Lamb. Every day, when I get off the bus, my stomach hurts. I don’t know how my mom and her boyfriend are going to be. Because before when they were not good, they hit me. But when I get older, I don’t have to worry about that because I’ll have my own house and life.” She said it with the kind of confidence, determination and hope that I know with certainty she’ll make a great life. I think of this girl every time I think I’ve had a bad day.

When there are people like her in the world, how can you ever lose faith in the power of hope? I am so grateful for the people connections that have come from this book.

After five years, Scribe Publishing Company decided to focus on their non-fiction titles and graciously returned the rights to the book to me. This week, I’m celebrating the re-release of Easter Ann Peters’ Operation Cool through my own publishing company. I am so excited.

After a difficult few years after my loss of my father, I’m thrilled to be actively contributing to this cause again and making strides in my ACoA journey. I’m currently writing the first of several non-fiction books that I intend to make available for free to my fellow ACoAs.

Thank you so much for your inspiration on this journey.

Take good care.

jody lamb author photo headshotJody Lamb is an author, blogger and adult child of an alcoholic on a journey to create an awesome grownup life. Visit JodyLamb.com. Twitter and Instagram: @JodyMLamb. YouTube: /JodyLamb. Facebook.com/JodyLambAuthor.
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Boundary setting

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I envy people who can easily “draw the line” between what is good for them and what is not.

For me, the boundaries are not neat lines at all. They are tangled, blurry and difficult to identify. That’s the way my child of an alcoholic (CoA) brain is programmed and why boundary setting is challenging.

But I know that boundary setting is CRITICAL to my ACoA journey. While I have a lot of work to do on this front, I have successfully a few boundaries with my alcoholic mother.

I won’t take phone calls from Mom when she’s been drinking. These conversations only left me upset and she rarely remembered them anyway. In the months after my father died, this was terribly hard for me to not answer her calls. I felt so guilty. She needed me. For three weeks after I told her about this boundary setting, she called me every night. She left angry messages about how selfish I am. Worse, she left messages in which she sobbed quietly into the phone. But after those three weeks, she finally respected the boundary and stopped the drunken phone calls.

For a long time after that, I called Mom every morning to say hello (a.k.a. making sure she was alive). Those calls gave me a sense of relief from the guilt of not talking to her the night before. But as I’ve continued with my ACoA healing journey and paid attention to my body and my self-care, I realized how much those early morning phone calls caused me anxiety. Sometimes she’d sound still intoxicated …or she’d be so hungover that she couldn’t even have a conversation like a functioning human being. After those conversations, I’d arrive at work already stressed. So I decided to reserve those calls for Saturday mornings. Now, I arrive at work feeling far free-er.

It’s a boundary that not long ago, I couldn’t have imagined being able to identify and adhere to.

I’ll celebrate this communication-with-Mom boundary as an adult child of an alcoholic milestone.

I hope you are well.

jody lamb author photo headshotJody Lamb is an author, blogger and adult child of an alcoholic on a journey to create an awesome grownup life. Visit JodyLamb.com. Twitter and Instagram: @JodyMLamb. YouTube: /JodyLamb. Facebook.com/JodyLambAuthor.
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I have no idea what I’m doing (on the ACoA journey)

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Fellow adult child of alcoholic Dawn Clancy of the Growing Up Chaotic blog recently asked me this question: How do you know you’re doing it [recovery] right?

There’s nothing easy about this journey. I have no idea what I’m doing. There’s no playbook. No universal ACoA recovery plan to master.

It sucks and it’s difficult and it’d be way easier if I could just leave everything all screwy. Oh, how effortless life would be if I remained thinking and behaving the way my brain naturally directs me to (due to its programming back in the ‘80s and ‘90s).

But at the risk of seeming dramatic, I don’t think I’d live to see 50 if I did that.

So I must keep at this journey.

 

When my father died suddenly in 2014, I lost my healing-journey marbles. It was as if I was a kid again – 100% trapped, scared. Within three weeks of his passing, I had moved out of my apartment and back in with my sister and alcoholic mother. That began the worst three months of my life. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I was on the verge of vomiting all day long.

One day during this 90-day hell, my friend made me go out to lunch with her.

She asked, “What the #$& are you doing?!” – a blunt but loving message that only a true friend can deliver.

“I can’t help it.” Tears fell from my face onto my chicken gyro sandwich. The construction worker guys shifted uncomfortably in the booth next to us.

“You. Are. Not. Your. Mother’s. Mom.”

My friend was right. Two weeks later, my sister and I moved out. Mom came home from work and the movers had been there. All our stuff was gone. She wasn’t angry – more relieved and surprised. She had freedom to do whatever she was going to do. That made it way worse for me. I sobbed in her living room, in her driveway as I placed the remaining boxes into my car and the entire drive to the Lamb sisters’ new apartment.

Moving away from my mother felt like I was abandoning an ill child, leaving her to die. Can you imagine what that would feel like? Yet I couldn’t stay there. It was killing my sister and me.

It was the best, difficult decision I’ve ever made.

When it feels wrong, it’s probably the right thing to do.

I do try to live for little-kid me. That’s how I know I’m doing this right. I owe it to the girl who had grand plans for grown-up life. The girl who looked forward to freedom from the grownups who let her down. The girl who looked forward to the way she believed grownups should live.

Did I live well today? Often the answer is a clear no. I put others ahead of me. I allowed myself to be controlled by anxiety. I took on too much, that martyr me. I tried to change and control things I know I can’t change or control.

But when the answer is yes, I know I’m doing it right for me.

jody lamb author photo headshotJody Lamb is an author, blogger and adult child of an alcoholic on a journey to create an awesome grownup life. Visit JodyLamb.com. Twitter and Instagram: @JodyMLamb. YouTube: /JodyLamb. Facebook.com/JodyLambAuthor.

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For the little kid on my refrigerator

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Three years ago, I’d relapsed in my ACoA recovery, triggered by my father’s sudden death. Years of study and learning erased from my mind in those horrific seconds after I discovered my father’s lifeless body. I thought, “Oh my God, my dad is gone.” Punch in the gut. Then I thought, “Oh my God, now I’m 100% responsible for Mom.” And the following statement may only be understood by fellow children of alcoholics: That second thought terrified me more than the first.

Within three weeks of that worst day of my life, I had moved out of my apartment and into my parents’ home because I had to be there for my sister…and I feared something horrific would happen without me there (i.e. Mom would burn the house down, drink and drive or intentionally or accidentally kill herself). All the while, I was working full time and spending the rest of my time figuring out my parents’ financial mess. It was all on me. Mom spiraled out of control. I didn’t sleep. I cried all the time.

My aunt and uncle urged me to see my counselor so I reluctantly set up a series of appointments with the husband of their yoga instructor (yeah, random). I was too miserable to refuse. My previous experiences with therapy were not helpful. But this counselor was an ACoA and an alcoholic with several years of sobriety. He just got it…and his questions made me think differently about my life and my whole situation. After three months in the extremely toxic environment with Mom, my sister and I packed up our stuff and moved out. I got back on the CoA healing journey.

I didn’t need the counselor’s visits after awhile. But I still think of his questions and suggestions years later. He once suggested that I place a photo of little-kid me on my bathroom mirror. This way, every morning, I would be reminded to be good to me now that I could be free. I needed to think of the little-kid in me to ensure I was taking good care of myself. This would guide my healthy decision making, he said.

I laughed. It seemed so ridiculous, so corny, so Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey. 🙂

“Please just try for me,” he said.

So I did. I taped a photo of eight-year-old me onto my bathroom mirror.

Every time I saw that photo, I didn’t see me. I saw a little girl who’s counting on me. I remembered that little girl’s diary entries that detailed grand plans for grownup life. I remembered her immense hope, powerful belief in freedom and excitement about doing “something new every day, even if I have the flu.” I felt anger that she had to grow up so fast and take on adult responsibilities. I felt sadness. She’d be so disappointed in how grownup felt.

That inner-little-kid stuff – corny as it may seem at first introduction – is powerful. It inspired me. Maybe it will for you, too.

Today, I put little-kid Jody back on my refrigerator. She smiles for the world without trepidation or shame and wholeheartedly believes in her light.

I must live in the way that tiny girl intended to live these grownup years. I owe her that.

I hope you are living for little-kid you, too, and if you are not, I hope you find the courage and inspiration to start your healing journey.

jody lamb author photo headshotJody Lamb is an author, blogger and adult child of an alcoholic on a journey to create an awesome grownup life. Visit JodyLamb.com. Twitter and Instagram: @JodyMLamb. YouTube: /JodyLamb. Facebook.com/JodyLambAuthor.
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Improving my ACOA relationship with sleep

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Sleep. Everyone’s talking about it. There are new apps, books and blogs on this topic popping up every week.

Some people say they don’t need sleep. They’re too busy getting #$&@ done! Other people say it’s an ultra-critical part of self care.

This year, I’ve been focused on my ACOA journey and creating a better grownup life. Reluctantly, I’ve realized my relationship with sleep fits into this effort.

In my 34 years, sleep has been a loathed obligation that holds power over my well being.

First, let’s just acknowledge that sleep is weird! Think about it. Our bodies require that we lay motionless with our minds basically in another realm for nearly a third of our daily 24 hours. What the heck. This is enough to make me dislike it.

But my strained relationship with sleep was shaped by my experience growing up with an alcoholic mother. She put a little blue TV in my bedroom and sent me to bed early. My cat and I watched Nick At Nite’s old sitcoms and the local news. I have vivid memories (as young as age five) of Saturday Night Live. It was lonely in my room all those hours but TV helped me block out the drunken chaos that swirled down the hall in the living room and kitchen.

As Mom’s alcoholism worsened over the years, I had no escape in TV. During Mom’s drunk fests, I’d sit in my bedroom, nauseous from the worry and desperately trying to distract my sister and block out the sound. Mom would scream about things that made no sense – usually directed at Dad but often me, too. She’d throw things. She’d weep. She’d say completely insane and hurtful things. For hours. I had to protect my sister from the traumatizing experience as much as possible and make sure Mom didn’t burn the house down or drink and drive. On those thousands of bad nights, I wouldn’t sleep until Mom had passed out in the wee hours of the morn. Some nights, sleep never came, as it was blocked by anxiety’s gorilla grip.

But I was tough. I could power through the tiredness. I didn’t need sleep.

High school. Oh Lordy. I don’t know how I survived without something terrible happening because of my sleep deprivation. I simply did not sleep. I remember at least a few times, I arrived at school with no memory of driving there. I’d try to catch up on sleep on the weekends but that rarely happened because of Mom’s drinking, need to take care of my sister and being involved in sports and school stuff.

Flash forward to my 20s. Working late into the night. Spending free time at my sister’s school events and driving her around. Five hours of sleep on a given weekday night would have been a good night’s sleep. I had no time to waste on sleep. Even if I got into bed early, I’d lay there for hours in the controlling arms of anxiety. Sometimes I’d take an over-the-counter sleep aid, but that made me foggy at work the next day. I resented sleep.

But I was tough. So tough. And I really didn’t need sleep.

Stressed I was, constantly, even if I didn’t realize the extent of it at the time.

Earlier this year, I began paying attention to self-care and my ability to manage stress. I realized that being a professional communicator with unpredictable days, I cannot do my job effectively unless I change my relationship with sleep and respect it.

Recently, I read several books about sleep, including “The Sleep Revolution: Transforming Your Life, One Night at a Time” by Arianna Huffington, She shares the data that proves how critical sleep is to good health. Highly recommended that one. She convinced me when I didn’t want to be convinced that sleep may be the single most important self-care activity for me (and probably most ACoAs).

I began paying attention to the effects of sleep (or lack of) and how my days went. By math, there isn’t much difference between seven and six hours of sleep and yet, my body says otherwise. I noticed a huge difference in my life experience when I slept seven hours or longer. I am calmer, sharper, more creative and an all-around better person. When I get six hours or fewer of sleep, I feel crappy, which makes me crappy in every way. I feel more frustrated with myself and further away from satisfaction. I am more likely to project these feelings onto other people.

Sleep is not something I want to do. When I’m sleeping, I am not productive and I hate that. This is because I have all the textbook attributes of the eldest adult child of an alcoholic. I fear not being good enough. I crave reassurance because when I was a girl, I was always confused by Mom’s fluctuating acceptance and expression of affection. So today, I put 150% into my work because I’m afraid of disappointing everyone around me – especially myself (and not achieving my totally unrealistic self-created expectations). I listen to all the entrepreneurial gurus who talk about maximizing time and being busy for every hour. I eat up their words – comforted by their shared view of sleep being an obligation.

But I accept now that giving sleep a greater chunk of my 24 hours is a sacrifice for the good of my well being. Scratch that. It’s an investment in me and a gesture of respect for the natural phenomenon.

Here’s what I’ve done to improve my relationship with sleep and get more quality hours of it:

  • Set a strict time to be in bed every night.

It’s 9:30. How many nights does this happen per week? Probably three. But I’m trying.

  • Got realistic about my wake-up time.

I am not a morning person. I need a good 45 minutes of relaxation with a cup of hazelnut coffee in hand and snuggles with my dog and cat before I shower and get into work mode.

Also, a morning walk with Rocco as much for his well being as it is mine. This means I generally arrive at the office about an hour later than I feel I should. But if I skip these morning steps, I feel it and so, I make this time at home a priority.

  • Picked the right pajamas.

Seriously, it makes a difference. I personally don’t like the feeling of my bar legs against each other (I know, I’m weird) so lightweight pants are my favorite.

  • Disconnected from electronics.

I relocated the nightlight from my bedroom to the bathroom for darkness (lights confuse the brain about if it’s time to sleep or not). I made a home for my phone across the room, instead of my nightstand. In lieu of emailing and social media scrolling in the last 45 minutes before bed, I read or write in my journal. This minimizes anxiety.

For me, sleep is a fundamental part of my self-care. I never thought I’d key those words. These little discoveries are building a foundation.

I hope you’re well.

jody lamb author photo headshotJody Lamb is an author, blogger and adult child of an alcoholic on a journey to create an awesome grownup life. Visit JodyLamb.com. Twitter and Instagram: @JodyMLamb. YouTube: /JodyLamb. Facebook.com/JodyLambAuthor.
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My new favorite self-care activity

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Last December, I wrote this on Facebook.

“Five years or so ago, I saw this bike for sale:

I’ve never been particularly interested in biking of any kind – slowly down a main street or thrillingly up the hilly trails. The last time I biked any real distance was to make it to class on time in college.

But when I saw this bike, I could picture myself riding around town with a sense of serenity. I could feel the breeze against my skin. I could hear the town sounds.

I could feel freedom. Yes, FREEDOM on a vintage-style bike with a bell.

I shall buy a bike and bike around town, I thought.

But I never bought the bike. I haven’t biked at all. I never rode around town. I never did most everything that once struck me as something I really must do…for me.

Today, I thought of this bike. I thought about all the things I never do. I thought about how often I’ve stood in the exact same place on this planet without doing anything differently.

The excuses arrived. This happened. That happened. I don’t have time. I can’t help it. I’m an ACOA with all kinds of things to sort out.

I can’t believe that I fall for my own B.S. day in and day out.

I suck.

Maybe it’s end-of-the-year reflection but today, I didn’t fall for my own B.S. because oh yeah, I am an adult woman living in the United States of America.

I am 100% free.

I can control me and everything about my life.

So why do I not bike?!!

You know that thing that makes you think, “I should do that because it’d be good for me”

Throw away your eloquent BS. Cut the self-created red tape and do it.

I hope you will!”

Sitting on the shore, beside my bike and surrounded by goose poo. What do those birds eat anyway?

My dear sister accepted this post as an elaborate hint and gifted me this amazing bike for Christmas.

And so this thoughtful gift has existed in my garage, as if it doesn’t exist at all, since December 25.

I woke on this Memorial Day and thought of those who’ve given their lives for the freedom we enjoy. I decided I couldn’t wait another minute before riding around town.

So I rode around town – breeze against my skin. I sat by the water. It felt like serenity and freedom mixed together and I wished I’d had jumped on such a bike five years ago when I decided that I would like to have one.

Why didn’t I buy myself the bike?!

Life is too short for simple but powerful regrets like this.

This bike encourages me to do other things that have long been on my list of things that would be good for me.

That one thing you’d love to have/do? Go for it.

jody lamb author photo headshotJody Lamb is an author, blogger and adult child of an alcoholic on a journey to create an awesome grownup life. Visit JodyLamb.com. Twitter and Instagram: @JodyMLamb. YouTube: /JodyLamb. Facebook.com/JodyLambAuthor.
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