Recovering From My Life?

I stepped into my first Al-Anon meeting last Monday. I expected a nervous comfort. Comfort in familiar slogans and hearing stories that mirrored my own. Nervousness for walking into a room full of strangers and choosing to till up deep seeded hurts. But as the serenity prayer began my chest drew in and anger burned between my shoulders. My body withdrew tightly and the resentment for having to sit in that meeting nearly carried me out the door.

I found myself lacking compassion for my mother and for every other addict that has come in and out of my life. I could not sit quietly and respect that they were working through a disease, an addiction, a way of being that hurt themselves and others. I could not applaud their progress at working the steps or staying alive or being sober. I could not look upon them objectively because I can still see the consequences of their addictions rippling through my life. I still cannot separate them from me.

Sitting it that room felt like punishment for survival. Surviving my childhood, my lovers and not only my mother’s addiction but also hir recovery. Punished for supporting hir and others when that support stripped me of so much. I held their hands through detox, funerals, beatings and relapses. I went to my mothers meetings with hir, had my 12^th birthday at an NA social and read all the literature. I gave them my life and this is my reward? Once again I’m sitting in church basements, reciting the serenity prayer and she’s not there. They aren’t there. And they won’t hold my hand through this.

The anger, resentment and perhaps grief that came up for me in that meeting goes far beyond words. Which just tells me that I’m in the right place. That there is work to be done there. I recognize unhealthy patterns that do not serve me, yet still I feel resistant. I’ve gone to two meetings since the first. I’ve been welcomed and congratulated on beginning my path to recovery; I just wish somebody would tell me what I’m supposed to be recovering from….