ACOA

Get healthy.

It’s a gazillion-dollar industry. Gym memberships. Diet books.

As I listen to folks talk about how hard exercising, water consumption and getting sh*t done-ness is, I think about what being a healthy person really means.

For me, as someone who spent most of my life as an unhealthy person, learning how to become a healthy person remains quite a journey.

It started with understanding the foundation of health.

I know several fitness buffs who eat right and have abs of steel like something out of the movies. But they are unhealthy in other areas – i.e. stay in abusive relationships or live in constant anxiety.

Every truly healthy person I’ve met has solid understanding and use of the fundamental element of being healthy: The fact that taking good care of yourself is your only job in life.

When you have this embedded in your brain, all of facets of healthy living are MUCH easier.

Seems easy.

But it’s not for some of us, including people who lived in dysfunctional environments.

Why is being a healthy person difficult for adult children of alcoholics?

I spent my entire childhood and teenage years being a miniature adult, instead of a kid. I had to be the grownup because my alcoholic mother and my codependent father were too ill to keep everything together.

So I learned to live unhealthily. It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom and got help in desperation that I realized that I am normal and I only have one responsibility in this life: to take good care of me.

I grew up tossing aside my own needs to help other people.

The people who have this figured out and LIVE aligned with this guiding question are often the very best givers.

It’s the same reason you board an airplane and they tell you that if the plane goes down, put your own oxygen mask on before you help the people around you.

via GIPHY

When you’re not a healthy person, you can’t properly help other people.

When my mother’s drinking was at its worst, I couldn’t get through a day without sick-to-my-stomach worry. With that kind of obsession, and non-living, how could I think clearly and freely enough to be healthy? I hardly slept. I skipped meals. I ate fast food. I did nothing but work, take care of my sister and clean up the figurative and literal messes that my mother made because of her alcohol use disorder.

I ask myself this question almost every day: Is this good for YOU?

When the answer is no, I must do something that feels wrong: I have to say no to people and to doing or not doing things.

Being healthy is not easy but it is much easier when you have a guiding, powerful question.

I hope you are well in your journey.

Related

The simple question to guide smarter decision making

Jody 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.

They say the darkest hour is just before dawn.

And in my life, that’s been true. When things got bad, I was forced to take action or change to make things better, always in desperation.

But what sucks about this is that those dark periods can last a looooooooong time.

Here are some of the horrible times that led to good stuff.

1.      When my mom got wasted at my cousin’s wedding when I was 12 and everyone in the family saw Drunk Mom and recognized that things were bad at home for me.

Now, you’re probably thinking, wait, that’s a good thing her family discovered the secret. But it was so NOT what I wanted to happen. I was 12 years old and a junior bridesmaid that day. I got to dress up fancily and feel really grownup for a day. I had looked forward to it for months. It was a lovely, classy occasion. But quickly into the reception activities, Mom was wasted. I spent the next few hours on the verge of throwing up. I couldn’t enjoy anything because all of the what-ifs were running through my brain. When Mom drinks, she’s completely unpredictable, irrational. The bride was my dad’s niece; no one in my dad’s family had any idea how out of control Mom’s drinking had become at that point. After Mom began stumbling around on the dance floor, Dad tried to leave early with all of us but Mom got angry at him and caused an uncomfortable scene in front of everyone. I remember standing by her and pleading through whispers, “Please, Mom, stop, please stop!” The night ended with Mom smacking my cousin multiple times on the back when he made a comment that she did not like. Then she began shouting horrible things to our family, as they all stood around, shocked and hurt. Family members. People I didn’t know. All there, wishing that they weren’t witnessing what they were witnessing. As we drove home that night, I sobbed in the backseat. I was humiliated that Mom exposed what happened when she drank. I didn’t want any of them to know because I was going to “fix” her. Mom made it obvious that she was out of control and abusive. It exposed that our lives were completely out of control. I wanted them to like Mom. I didn’t want them to see that version of her. I didn’t want them to pity my dad and me. I didn’t want them to tell Dad to leave Mom. It felt like 500 pounds hit my shoulders that night. I feared she was worsening and for the first time ever, I began to lose hope that I could fix her.

After the wedding, my dad’s family realized that my mom’s alcoholism was affecting me. I didn’t know it at the time, but my aunt and uncle spoke with my father about it. And though we never spoke of Mom’s alcoholism, my grandma began calling me more often. We grew quite close from that point on and in many ways, she stepped into a supportive, motherly role. Her encouragement gave me so much support that I really, really needed. She was much more than a grandmother to me. She was my friend. I miss my Grams.

2.      When Mom was arrested.

Mom was charged with a DUI twice. Both times were extremely traumatizing for me. I was devastated that she’d risked other people’s lives as well as her own life. Each time, I was hopeful that the court-ordered Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and counseling would be the miraculous solution she needed. Perhaps they could breakthrough to her, despite me trying and failing to do so my whole life. Of course, I know now that you can’t help someone who doesn’t want help. At the meetings, she met other people with substance use disorders who also didn’t want help. They skipped meetings and drank together in the parking lot. This was confusing, infuriating (!!!!!) and hurtful. But those terrible events helped me FINALLY realize that my mom alone had the power to accept help and that no one else, including me, could control her or her drinking.

3.      When I was 26, I thought I was going to die.

I’d lost all hope. I was extremely depressed. I was tired. 26 years of taking care of everyone but yourself takes it toll. Grownup felt NOTHING like little-kid me had envisioned and I didn’t see that I could do anything to change the trajectory of my life. It felt like a life sentence. So in complete desperation, I showed up an Al-Anon meeting and began reading books about the effects of having an alcoholic parent. This was in complete desperation. If I hadn’t hit this rock-bottom point, I don’t really want to think about what could have happened. That very dark part of my life set me on a healing journey.

4.      When my dad died.

It was the worst night of my life. It was also the night of my sister’s Prom. When Dad didn’t show up at the lake where my sister and her date were taking photos, I drove to my parents’ house, hoping he’d simply fallen asleep and not heard the phone ringing. But I  didn’t find asleep; a heart attack had taken him from us. While I’m glad it was me to find him that way and not my mom or sister, the image hurts. When the police and EMS arrived, I thought, oh my God, my dad is dead. Punch in the gut. And then a few seconds later, oh my God, now I am 100% responsible for Mom. Double punch in the gut. I didn’t think she’d live without my dad. I feared she’d kill herself by driving drunk and worse, in the process, kill other people.

I promptly forgot everything I’d learned about co-dependency and being an adult child of an alcoholic. Within three weeks of my father’s death, I’d moved out of my apartment and into my mother’s house and took over as my mother’s enabler. After a hellish 90 days with her, I realized that I had to get my sister and me out of there. We weren’t sleeping. We were constantly worried. We were sick to our stomachs with worry all day every day. We were not living. Trapped, trapped in the chaos, the sickness.

So, we moved out even though it felt so wrong. It was the wisest thing I’ve ever done. I recognized the power of detachment. Mom was forced to survive on her own. To my SHOCK, she did quite well. While she still drinks every night, she is living and making it on her own. Today, we have a better relationship than I could have ever imagined.

The most painful times can be the catalyst for positive change.

I hope you are well in your journey.

Jody 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.

My mom brought me an aloe plant for my new house. She thought I’d like to have it because I’m “the kind of person who’d like a cactus.” It’s not a cactus but I did not tell her that.

It was sweet and it made me feel good, especially since I know that in the literary world, a cactus symbolizes endurance and maternal love. This cactus is kind of deformed and not particularly cool but I love it. Mom walked around my new house and told me it’s great. I was there with Real Mom. Not alcoholic Mom. And for a bit, I soaked up those comfort feelings. I felt that rare feeling that she’s the mother and I’m the daughter.

My whole life, while I lived with Mom, my feelings were intense with colors and patterns in a chaotic way – always changing like a kaleidoscope. Anger, hurt, confusion, hope, fear, contentment, comfort, safety, hopelessness constantly swirling in chaotic bursts as we lived in the Jekyll Hyde world.

Complicated. Always so complicated. I wanted to just settle on one feeling about my mom and be done but it was never that simple.

I envied people who could settle on the angry/cut-you-out-of-my-life entirely path.

I also envied the people who’d write long Ode to Mom posts on Facebook about the rock they call Mom.

Sometimes, on the ultra-bad days, I felt so FURIOUS about our situation and at Mom. Other times, I’d weep about the sadness of it all. And sometimes, I could see only Real Mom; the bad that came with her problems would fade almost completely out of sight. Sometimes I’d feel all these feelings in a really intense way all within a few hours on the very same day!

That’s how it goes for many adult children of alcoholics, I’m told. Kaleidoscope on the inside. Imagine the kind of emotional energy a kaleidoscope requires.

But today, since I’ve made so much progress in this healing journey, these feelings about my mom are not so complicated anymore. The more I focus on me and taking good care of me, the simpler it gets. I love my mom. I hate her substance use disorder and everything it has done to our lives.

If I had not detached myself from my mother (especially during the period after my dad died) and began actively taking good care of me, I’d still be powering that kaleidoscope with zero energy left over for me.

I hope you are well in your journey.

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What “Adult Child of an Alcoholic” means to me

Jody 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.

Hello, 2018.

Last month, I turned 35. I don’t like celebrating or acknowledging my birthday – mostly because of unpleasant birthday memories (i.e. Mom’s drunkenness ruining celebrations or her overall treatment of birthdays as an obligation, rather than a blessing as part of motherhood). This year, I quietly celebrated this birthday. It marked 10 years since my 25^th birthday, which I will always remember. My 25^th birthday fell on a Saturday. I woke that morning and cried into my pillow for two or three hours. 25 was supposed to be a care-free time. On regular days, I didn’t have much time to think about it but on my birthday, I grieved a care-free life that I’d NEVER experienced. I had recently moved from mid-Michigan back into my parents’ house in metro Detroit because Mom’s drinking had dramatically worsened and my sister, who was so young, was really being hurt by it. I needed to be there for my sister…and everyone. I was the adult of the household, barely holding it all together in every way. I felt such heavy responsibility. I cried that birthday morning because I had nothing to look forward to and everything to dread. It was the beginning of the darkest period of my life, which led to my own rock bottom at 26.

That morning, I wish I could have been handed a crystal ball to look at life at 35, which isn’t perfect but an entirely different, better life than the one I had in my 25th year. Maybe I would have believed I’d have a job I enjoyed more than the one I had back then. Maybe I’d even have believed that I’d have my own little house. But there’s no way I would have believed that Dad would die and Mom would live through it. I would not have believed that Mom would be working full-time and mostly entirely supporting herself financially. I couldn’t have believed I’d live without the weight of extreme responsibility for everyone and without such a constant weakened hope for the future. I couldn’t have believed I’d be detached from the chaos that surrounds Mom’s substance use disorder. I couldn’t have believed that I’d forgive my mom and dad or that I could sit with my mother at a family wedding and have a pleasant conversation.

How I could have believed any of it, really? That life was all I’d ever known.

10 years later, I have a few more wrinkles and much more wisdom earned through this healing and grownup life journey than I did back then.

For those who wake up on their birthday with the hopelessness and sense of entrapment in immobility as I felt, I say: A life you cannot imagine today is possible.

Wishing you serenity and growth in this new year.

P.S. Looking forward to sharing more on JodyLamb.com, on social and in person this year. The last few months have been very hectic with work…and I bought a house! All the while through the search and process, I put myself through hell.

I don’t deserve this! A common ACoA thing…

I can’t afford this! What if X happens and I must take care of Mom and Brooke (sister)?…

I’ll never find something just right…

Something’s going to get screwed up and the whole thing will fall through…

That’s how those 12 weeks went all the way until 9:30 pm on New Year’s Eve (a day with record-breaking cold in here in Michigan, btw) when I brought the last boxes and introduced Larry (cat) and Rocco to their new home. As usual, I rejected offers for help because “I have movers coming and I totally got it.” Well, I had movers for the big stuff but I did a whole lot of packing and multiple trips back and forth by myself. It was exhausting and I should have accepted and asked for help. I’m just not good at asking for and accepting that I need help. Ever the journey…

Starting this new year feeling grateful for Serenity (what I named my cozy, little house).

Jody 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.

Hello, holiday season!

Once upon a time, this was a terrible time for me as a child (and then adult) child of an alcoholic.

See memories here:

Experiencing the holidays as the child of an alcoholic

I don’t look forward to the holidays and I can’t imagine ever loving them because: 1) I miss my dad and 2) all the ACoA stuff – the memories of ruined holidays and being the adult managing everything in preparation for them.

BUT I’m gratefully entering this six-week stretch of celebration with significantly less anxiety than I had 10 years ago, 20 years ago.

Yes: Here come the holidays and I’m not even stressed. This adult child of an alcoholic has never been able to experience this kind of serenity. I can’t believe it.  I have next-to-zero holiday-related stress.

Let’s call this serious ACoA healing journey progress, shall we?

But with this clear perspective and now more than usual these days, I’m thinking about the kids and adults in the thick of it all – right there living in the epicenter of the chaos caused by a loved with a substance use disorder, on top of the regular holiday chaos.

I hope they recognize what took me so long to realize: your only job in life is to take good care of you.

I hope they detach.

I hope they give themselves the gift that got taken from them as a result of circumstance: knowing how to take good care of oneself.

And I hope you are well in your journey.

p.s.

I’m buying my first house. I have all kinds of weird emotions about it. It feels wrong (I don’t deserve it – classic eldest kid of an alcoholic thinking) and scary (everything could go wrong!!!) and right (it’s about time – you should have done this years ago) and exciting (this is new and fun) at the same time.

Work is quite hectic. But it always is, because I am me.

I’ve been setting boundaries with Mom – pushing her to take care of grownup things. That ALWAYS feels wrong but it is right for me.
 

Jody 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.

The thing that matters, now and forever

is that you remember this:

Your only job in life is to take good care of you.

Remembering this as we near the holidays…

Currently: I am setting boundaries with my mother that feel wrong but I know are right. I’m too busy with work (my own fault) and buying my first house (yay).

Anxiety loves to tango with me and I always oblige.

So this year, I’m making an effort to remember

The thing that matters, now and forever.

Take good care of you.

I hope you are well in your journey and that you take good care of you.

Jody 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.