I had it in my head that he was being a stubborn and ignorant fool and that the point he was arguing was completely fictional and couldn't be proved or supported by any facts.  And it was somehow my duty to prove him wrong and argue him around to my way of thinking.  And that if I could just punch enough holes in his argument he would have to see he was wrong and I would win.

Who was being stubborn and ignorant?

Oh yeah, I was.

Every thing I have been reading and studying lately about not reacting, not controling, and not creating drama just flew right out of my head and I reverted to all my old behaviours.  I don't even know if I can call them old behaviours.  They're still pretty current behaviours.  I don't actually have new behaviours yet.  But I'd like them to be old behaviours.  And I'd like to have new behaviours.  That is what I am working towards.  So I searched through my muddled mind for some sort of phrase I could work with and apply.

'You don't have to show up to every argument you are invited to' was the first phrase I remembered.  Ooops.  A little late for that one.  Then I remembered, 'it takes two to argue'.  Which meant the argument could only keep going if I kept participating in it.  And also, 'how important is it?'  Do I really need to prove myself right all the time?  Is it really that important to prove my Dad wrong?  Do I really need him to acknowledge my point and to validate my opinion?  And after that concepts and phrases started coming back to me a little more easily.

So I put the breaks on.  And I said to my Dad, "You may be right."  And I quieted my voice and spoke to him calmly and respectfully.  Acknowledging that his beliefs and mine didn't have to mesh.  And that his experiences defined his truth and not mine.  And it was OK.  The conversation didn't end with me experiencing the thrill of victory.  But it didn't end with me experiencing the pain of defeat either.  Because it didn't end as a battle.  But as a simple and basic acknowledgement of the right we both had as individuals to see the same situation from different vantage points.

That is a very strange way for a conversation with my Dad to end.  And it drove a point home for me.  This isn't about my Dad, or my Husband, or my Mom, or my Father in law, or any of the other alcoholics and addicts in my life.  It's not about changing them into the people I'd like them to be.  It's not about fixing them.  It's about me.  It's all about me.  It's about changing the way I think and act.  It's about becoming the person I want to be.  It's about developing new skills and gaining new knowledge to help me find more peace and happiness in my life.  It's about being accountable to myself for my behaviour.  And it's about finally taking responsibility for myself and my life.

It's amazing how the only thing that changed in that conversation was my willingness to let go.  I didn't need to be right.  I didn't need to argue.  I didn't need to prove someone else wrong.  And the change was imediate and amazing.  I'm sure I will forget over and over again.  And I will revert to old behaviours and habits many times.  But I hope that I remember this and use it to bring the focus back where it belongs.  On me.  Because that was a very powerful example for me of how I really can make a consious decision to behave in a different way than usual.  I don't have to act, or react, out of habit.  And when I consiously choose how I will behave it is much better for me.