The topic at my f2f meeting last night was control - specifically, how we stopped trying to control and our awareness of our own attempts to control.

Many people mentioned that before they got some recovery, they would tell the addict the same things over and over.  Most of the stuff they would say had to do with how the addict could stop drinking and shape up.  Many people shared that they would find different ways to say the same things so the attempt to manipulate wouldn't be obvious.  

It occurred to me how much I did this.  I thought I had the answers.  I thought that if the addicts in my life would just listen to me and do what I said, I things would be perfect.  I found a million ways to say the same things, either from a logical standpoint, punctuated with tears and/or threats, written in letters instead of verbally communicated, screamed in a fit of range, and everything in between.  None of it made any difference, and I have discovered here that the reason it made no difference is because the problems I was trying to fix weren't mine, and the answers that were so obvious to me were not necessarily the right answer for the other free-thinking people around me.

Working on my own control issues has been hard, but I had a big opportunity to practice them this week.  As I shared before, I was informed by another family member that my active alcoholic mother has liver damage.  My mom hasn't told me herself, so I have made the decision that I will say nothing unless/until she does.  For the last 2 weeks, she's been sober all the times I've seen her.  I've appreciated that, and been grateful to get to interact with her when I know she's mentally present.  Yesterday when I saw her she was drunk.  I know I had a look on my face when I realized that, and she asked me what was wrong.  I scanned my brain for an appropriate answer - certainly didn't want to discuss anything important with her while she was intoxicated, so I just told her I was frazzled by the traffic (this was true) and then I went home.  When I had the opportunity to examine my own feelings, I realized I was disappointed.  Not in my mom - I understand that she is sick.  I was just disappointed in the disease.  I hate it, and all that it does. 

Before the program, I know that seeing my mom drunk after getting the news about her liver would've resulted in frantic attempts to get her to stop.  I would've gotten all the documentation together about liver stuff and presented my best case. 

I'm grateful I'm relieved of that today.  I gave her to my HP, and I know and underestand that the best thing I can do is pray that HP's will can be done in her life.  I can accept that she isn't stupid and making bad decisions - she's sick, and acting in a way that's sick.  She needs my compassion, not my judgment.

I'm struck again and again that the biggest part of my program has been acceptance of what IS.  Acceptance doesn't mean that I LIKE something.

Gratitude is on my heart today, even though I am sad.