Alcohol and Honesty

Irene, in her late 40s, had been in an out of treatment centers for years before consulting with me. When in treatment, she was fine, with no desire to drink, but once she returned home with her husband, Frank, and two adolescent children, it didn't take long before she was back to drinking. Even though she faithfully attended AA meetings, she could not stay sober once she returned home. She loved her husband and children and could not understand why she could not stay sober at home. Each time she went back to drinking, she would hate herself for her weakness, seeing herself as a deeply flawed, defective person. She believed that the problem was entirely hers - that her family had nothing to do with it.

"What changes regarding how you feel when you go home?" I asked her on one of our phone sessions.

"I feel trapped. I feel controlled and suffocated, like I can't be myself."

"What happens that make you feel so trapped?"

"I don't know. Frank is such a sweet and wonderful man, and I know that he really loves me. And I love him. I don't get what is happening that makes me feel so agitated and trapped."

I asked her if Frank would be willing to join us in a phone session. She was quite sure he would - that he would be willing to do anything to help her and help their relationship.

Frank was willing. In the first session Irene expressed to Frank her feelings of being trapped. Frank's response was to attempt to talk her out of her feelings by talking about how wonderful their life is. In this first session, I immediately felt Irene cave in and completely give herself up, saying nothing to Frank about how she felt when he didn't hear her and tried to talk her out of her feelings.

"Irene, in my experience, Frank is not hearing you at all and is trying to talk you out of your feelings. Does this happen often?"

"All the time," she answered. Frank immediately went into denial, saying that is not what he was doing and that it certainly didn't happen all the time. His voice was very firm and parental, as if he really knew what he was talking about. Irene went silent.

"Irene, what are you feeling right now?" I asked.

"I feel like I'm going to explode. I just want to get away and have a drink. I feel sick to my stomach."

Frank actually started to attempt to talk her out of these feelings and then stopped. "Do you really feel that way?" he asked.

"Yes, and I feel this way much of the time we are together."

"Why haven't you told me?"

"I am telling you right now and all you want to do is tell me that I am wrong and shouldn't feel this way!"

In subsequent sessions with Irene, I helped her to articulate all the things that Frank did that made her feel trapped and invalidated - and there were many. He would grab her breasts, no matter how many times she had told him that this didn't feel good. He would get judgmental when she wanted to spend time with a friend that he didn't like. He would even try to control what she wore. Invariably, Irene would cave in - and then drink.

Irene and I worked on her learning to speak up for herself and take loving action for herself - disengaging and walking away when Frank was discounting her, pulling on her, or judging her. She had always been afraid to hurt his feelings with her honesty because would be angry and withdraw for days when she did manage to speak up. I encouraged her to tell him that she would no longer be around him when he was angry and withdrawn, and then to spend time with friends, go on a little vacation with her kids, or pursue her hobbies when he acted out.

Once Irene started to tell her truth and take action on it, she found herself not wanting to drink. She was able to make the connection between her drinking and her abandoning herself in the face of Frank's controlling behavior.

Because Frank does love Irene, he was willing to address his subtle and overt controlling behavior. While it did not happen over night, Irene's drinking is no longer a problem for her.

The Other Side of Mother's Day

Mother's Day! The words conjure a picture of a loving mother surrounded by her children and loving family, receiving flowers, gifts, and mushy cards from her progeny, celebrating the sacrifice and love of motherhood.

This Mother's Day the above scenario will take place again, all over the country. It will be a wonderful day for so many, a chance to say Thank You Mom for always being there for me, for loving me even during times when I wasn't so lovable.

Mothers will be filled with pride and gratitude and all past transgressions will be forgotten, at least for the day. Tomorrow will bring everyone back to reality, but for this one day, it will be a time to unabashedly proclaim our love for the woman who gave us life.

As we go about our daily activities interacting with others, we'll hear the inevitable Happy Mother's Day greetings, from friends and even strangers, the cashier at the supermarket. This innocuous greeting, a kind pleasantry for many, is like a knife to the heart for the Other Mothers.

Who are the Other Mothers? We are the ones who won't be celebrating this Mother's Day in sync with the rest of the country. We are the ones who people tend to shy away from, especially on holidays and most especially on this one day set aside to celebrate us! Who are we? We are the mothers of a deceased child. To compound matters, we are not only the mothers of a deceased child, but we are the mothers of a child who is deceased from drugs! I can almost feel you recoil as you read these words. I know. I used to be of the same mindset until I became an Other Mother.

We may have other children, children whom we absolutely love and adore and would give our life for. That is a given. Because we mourn our deceased child, that does not diminish the love that we have for our other child or children. However, on Mother's Day the heartbreak of the loss of that child is more acutely felt, although we feel this heartbreak every day. From the time we lift our head off the pillow in the morning, until we lay it down again at night, no matter what activity is going on around us, our minds and hearts are consumed with thoughts of our child who is no longer with us. Our child who died from the disease of addiction.

There are 365 days in a year and each one of them has a special dedication, whether it be a nationally known holiday such as Mother's Day, Christmas, Hannukah, Veterans' Day or some obscure day such as National Blame It On Somebody Else Day. Whatever the day, there is a national something or other attached to it, quite often more than one. How about a National Mother's Day for Mothers Who Have Lost a Child to the Disease of Addiction? Why not? Is it any stranger than National Don't Go To Work Unless It's Fun Day or any of a host of other national faux holidays?

I'm certainly not ashamed that my child died of addiction. I'm far too busy being heartbroken every day to worry about shame. I am deeply saddened and tortured by the loss of my beloved child but never ever ashamed. He had a disease.

Addiction is a brain disease. The addicted person has no more control over their disease than someone suffering from diabetes or cancer does. Their struggle is just as painful and difficult for them.

Most addicted people start down their destructive path when they are children. Children don't consider the consequences of their actions and they think they're invincible. Ultimately they discover that it is the drugs that are invincible.

So on this Mother's Day while everyone is celebrating the joys of motherhood, whether you're already a mother or about to become one, I hope you will take a moment to ponder the Other Mothers. The Other Mothers who will be smiling on the outside while trying to quell the raging volcano of grief that is erupting on the inside as we fight with all of our being to prevent it from spewing forth and demoralizing everyone around us. We don't want that. We don't want to deny other mothers their well-deserved day of recognition. We also do not want you to join our ranks. What we do want is to have our child acknowledged, and remembered. We want them remembered for the kind, caring, loving children that they were, not for the disease that ravaged their minds and bodies.

Our children lived and were loved and are still loved. They abound in our thoughts and hearts every moment of our lives. If we happen to meet on this Mother's Day, please don't be afraid to acknowledge the day. You don't even have to utter those words "Happy Mother's Day." If you will just acknowledge our child, say his or her name and if you have any remembrances of them, this would be a nice time to say so. You can't hurt us by talking about them. In fact, you can bet if you do talk about our child, you will see a genuine smile envelop our face and I know that will make us both feel good.