Pathway Foreword

Being the child of an alcoholic and growing up in a dysfunctional family meant for me a life of sheer terror. Anxiety and insecurity were my constant companions. I spent my days cringing from verbal and/or physical attacks (or the possibility of attacks) from a vengeful mother, a mother whose rage was at best sometimes barely under control. So fearful were my friends of my mother's unpredictable viciousness, that they were afraid to enter our home. I often wondered which kind of abuse was worse: the public humiliations, the lengthy tirades of condemnation, or the out of control fury often accompanied by face slapping. The thing I think I feared most of all from her was her "glare," which expressed to me nothing less than pure hatred, a glare which she informed me she had perfected in the mirror. Of course, I decided early on that if my mother found me that evil and disgusting there was no way that anyone else could ever find a redeemable quality in me.

Since I believed my life could be easily snuffed out at any moment, it was much too dangerous to even think of defending myself or rebelling. So I turned to fantasies of suicide, self-mutilation and self-hatred. I spent hours compulsively praying because I was sure this was my only hope for compassion and absolution of my "guilt." I refused to eat until I was nine years of age. This was perhaps my only expression of defiance. I was able to "survive" only because I lived a life of illusion, denial and appeasement. I tried to become a clone of my mother, believing that then she would have to start loving me. I thought that the only way for me to be safe was to learn how to second-guess her. For me to develop a talent, an ego or to express anger or sorrow was a threat to her. Out of fear and guilt, all creative or emotional expression had to be suppressed.

I had even greater difficulty with my co-dependent father for his passivity. He would soberly stand by during these attacks, careful never to interfere, never to take sides, never protecting me, and worst of all, never offering a consoling word during the tearful aftermath when I was alone in my room, feeling totally abandoned. His silence and non-involvement just confirmed my belief that they both wished I had never been born. If it hadn't been for the support and caring of my grandmother and several "best" friends, I doubt I would have survived.

I see my adulthood in four phases, the fourth just now beginning. Until I was 30, my life consisted of an attempt to achieve "happiness" by following exactly in my mother's footsteps. I knew there was something lacking in my make-up, because I didn't have the self-assurance to be at all assertive. I was very bothered by this, as it was a quality I greatly admired in my mother. Actually, I have since learned that my mother was not assertive, but aggressive, not a quality that I desire. I didn't seem to have any ego or identity of my own. The best I could hope for was to mirror everyone else and respond in the way I thought they wanted. I survived this way for a long time, patterning my life events as exactly as I could, after my mother's. I graduated from a woman's college, just like she did, and made an attempt at a career teaching school. But when things became too rough (having no idea how to solve problems) I developed ulcers. Then, I was 'rescued" from this impossible situation by becoming engaged to the fourth grade teacher. What is interesting about this is that I arranged to marry at the exact age as my mother. I even announced to my friends that "I will be married next June." This was before I had even met my husband to be. I was the only one who was not astonished when this was accomplished right on schedule. I married a man who was just like my father, mild, quiet, gentle, intellectual, and kind. What a shock I had when I discovered at the wedding that he had a violent temper. This pleased my mother to no end. "That's good," she remarked. "She needs a man who will stand up to her!"

The marriage had lasted seven years when I finally forced myself to leave in order to protect myself and my two children from his temper tantrums. I now understand why it is so hard for the victims of abuse to extricate themselves from that situation. They are co-dependents in an addictive relationship. I was very anxious about living on my own financially. The word "divorce" struck me with terror. I never dreamed I was capable or powerful enough to survive on my own, much less raise two children. There was also my strong conviction that I would soon be rescued once again my some "prince charming."

The divorce finalized, I began phase two of my adult life. I moved back to my "roots" and settled in a small town far from my parents, setting about proving to myself that I was really an "independent" person. Thus began a period of deep depression and loneliness, a time in which I began to look at my pain and myself. It started with a critical illness that required my parents to come and take care of my children and me. I once again felt the helplessness of a child and hoped I would get the nurturing and support I felt I should have received as a child. But the price for being "rescued" was more abuse, this time directed at my two-year-old daughter, as well as myself. (The next generation was about to follow in my footsteps). Then, to my horror my parents decided to move to the small town where I lived. The "tender trap" hooked me once again and I became helplessly dependent upon them. Every day I stopped at their house for cocktails before dinner, and rather than go home with my children and fix dinner, I stayed on, joining them in their alcoholic haze. It was my "fix" against the loneliness and depression of my empty (though very active) life.

I must mention here that it still amazes me that I refrained from continuing the cycle of abuse and alcoholism passed down through four generations (that I know of) for so long. But an episode I shall never forget alerted me to this possibility. While my mother was badgering and criticizing me, I suddenly felt a wave of rage that caught me off guard. Since this emotion was never allowed from anyone except my mother, I was always careful to stifle it. Being fearful of directing it toward my mother, I lashed out at my seven-year old son, chasing him with a frying pan. As out of control as I was, something stopped me. As I stood there watching him cringe, trembling and pale with fright, I instantly understood the whole patter of child abuse and how I had almost done to my children the very thing I had vowed I would never do. I immediately hugged and consoled him, doing three things that I had never experienced as a child. I told him I loved him, I apologized to him, and I told the truth, that the anger was meant to be directed toward my mother and not him.

The most positive thing that resulted from this second phase of my adult life was that I began to suspect that I was not happy, and entered into what was to become fifteen years of therapy. During this time I opened up the "Pandora's box" of my painful childhood. However the therapist never addressed the alcohol factor of my past. I later found out what I feel caused the failure on his part to address this area. He was an alcoholic, who was not in recovery. It was not until age 40 that I discovered the term "Adult Child Of An Alcoholic" and at once, some of the pieces began to fall into place. I also discovered I was not alone. Now it only remained for me to find Rational Emotive Therapy (RET) so I could put it all into action.

At this time I also discovered I was not completely helpless and could support myself and raise two children alone. I did not need a man or a mother. I began to develop some self-confidence and found the courage to break at lease from the sick relationship I had with my parents. (I was able to break from the sick relationship, but it was not until the discovery of RET that I was able to develop a loving relationship with them). Then, just when I thought I had it all together, I met my "prince charming!" Even though eleven years had elapsed since my divorce, I fell for every irrational illusion in the old "romance trap." Keep in mind this was prior to learning RET. My thinking had not changed from before. Thus began phase three of my adult life.

Six months after our meeting, I married John, ignoring all clues that I was committing myself to someone who would treat me just as my mother had. Immediately he rejected me, sexually and emotionally. During the following five years, this rejection became more and more severe and destructive, as he seemed to be motivated by some inner rage that prevented him from giving in to me in any way. He seemed scared of any form of intimacy, and threatened if he was not in complete control of me. He blamed me for all of our problems, even his refusal to have sex. I was the object of constant verbal abuse and public humiliation. Yes, you are right, he was also an Adult Child Of An Alcoholic, but he was still in deep denial.

Once again I felt the old familiar feelings of being trapped, of being a victim. Sustained only by false hope, I felt miserable, bewildered and always stressed out. Desperately, I tried everything I could think of from marriage counseling (which he would always drop out of) to appeasement and temper tantrums. My friends and family were dismayed and concerned as they watch my mental and physical health deteriorate almost to the point of no return. My immune system was shot as the result of long-term constant stress and twice the doctors thought I might have cancer. "This marriage is killing me," I would cry. But I could not seem to bring myself to call it quits.

Then I discovered Don Winkler and RET. Don was a marriage counselor who worked with Adult Children Of Alcoholics. I felt sure John would see how his dysfunctional alcoholic family had "damaged him." He would heal himself and then we could live happily forever. Of course, the first thing I learned from Don was that blaming John got me nothing but pain, as did my constant crying about how miserable I was in the marriage. Through Don's teaching of RET, I was forced to really look at myself rationally and clearly for the first time. Here is what I saw: a frightened, insecure little girl who needed to be taken care of and nurtured, like mother should have done long ago. I was dependent on John to affirm my attractiveness and worthiness to be loved. My low self-esteem was keeping me trapped in a no-win situation because I was convinced John would eventually change into "prince charming." As a matter of fact, I did not really think I deserved any better. My inability to think rationally and blaming everyone else for my pain keep me going round and round in a circle of power struggles, head games and shouting matches. Without any idea there were other options and ways to communicate in a mature and respectful matter my feelings and the situation just got worse and worse. My need for security of any and all kinds prevented me from calming my own power (i.e., setting limits, taking risks or even trying a different approach). I ended up sacrificing everything I valued most (my freedom, sexuality, health and self-respect) for some need I was convinced that I could not exist without, an addictive dependence, very similar to my mother's and therefore familiar and "comfortable." I was fed by the powerful delusion that if I tried hard enough and long enough John would someday wake up in love with me again. I'm sure I would have stayed stuck in that sick marriage for many more years. However, with the new approach I learned from Don, I began to understand with compassion what has been bugging me all my life. As I learned how not to be controlled by my intense irrational feelings (which were based upon my irrational thinking), I began to achieve maturity and inner calmness I had never known. Learning that everything is not always black or white, all or nothing, right or wrong or calamity, gave me a new flexibility of thinking and responding to frustrating situations. A new way of communicating began to emerge, which allowed me to be more gracious and respectful to my desires as well as to my fellow human being. I began to see I didn't need someone else to nurture, reassure, or affirm me in order for me to feel good about myself. I could do this for myself. (Realizing this alone freed me from that addictive trap and gave me the self-confidence and security I had always lacked). This does not mean that I do not enjoy it when others praise, compliment, or encourage me, because I do, but my believing that I need them to do so just results in my being uptight, anxious, and scared.

I also found that thinking rationally about life in general and the people I relate to everyday brightens my whole outlook. My depression began to dissolve; my inaction turned to decision-making and goal setting. I had no more time or energy to feel sorry for myself for I could take charge of my life and create my own happiness. I accepted the fact that John would no change, and that was O.K. Without feeling an ounce of guilt, I divorced him, not because I was angry, but because I did not choose to live with someone who behaves and thinks as he does. Having succeeded finally in freeing myself, all the debilitating stress I had lived with for six years dissipated completely, leaving in it's place a new energy and outlook. I regained my health and sense of humor. It was fun to be alive! Each day is an adventure and I am amazed to find my life is filled with abundance of every kind. My creative powers are blossoming, and I find myself attempting to do things I never would have thought possible before I learned RET.

My children no longer are discipline problems because I treat them with love and respect (while setting limits) instead of with annoyance and impatience. Of course I am still human and have occasional negative feelings and at times start to feel down. But, I now have more options and tools available to accept and deal with the frustrations of life, and the ability to reverse these down feelings when they do occur.

I accept the fact that my mother may never admit to her alcoholism and that is O.K. I am gaining more and more courage to set limits and prevent her from abusing my children and me. When they come to visit, they choose to stay in a motel where they are free to drink and smoke, as I will not allow these things in my home. I use to wonder how the victim could love the torturer and now I know the answer. However, there is no excuse for being a victim once you learn rational thinking. I have learned it takes two to do that dance! You can love the persecutor by simply not allowing the negative behavior. And most amazing of all, once I learned to treat myself with respect, I found my mother treating me the same way. She is more supportive, compassionate, and complimentary than I ever dreamed she would be. I have long since ceased using her as a role model. I see her now as an ordinary human being with beauty as well as frailties.

I think I have finally (through learning and practicing RET) broken the sick family mold and pattern. One of the ways I can tell is that I believe I can now find a mature and healthy love with another person, and I am sure I will find him. But if it does not happen, that's O.K. Why? Because either way, I know I will be outrageously happy!

Julie Bass

Adult Child Of Alcoholic