Boundaries. Yikes!

 

Yikes! Boundaries are such an interesting issue for nearly everyone, in recovery or not. It was in early recovery that I learned, however, that maintaining boundaries help prevent future resentments. Prior to getting sober, I didn’t think much about resentments- because I was busy living and breathing my resentments. I WAS my resentments, and so I didn’t do a lot of objective thinking about them. I didn’t even know they were there, running the show.

I once heard someone say, “When I was using, the look on your face was my Higher Power.” I really get that. If you were smiling at me, then I was okay, you were approving of me. If you were not, then you were not approving of me, and i would create a story all around that.  I would set about to gain your approval again, or I would resent your dismissal of me, whether or not it was real or imagined. I may detect a look of disdain, or a lack of interest, and who knows if you were thinking about something unpleasant or had a headache. It didn’t matter- it was all about ME. This was a really uncomfortable way to live, and one of the ways I dealt with that was to drink at you. Or with you. Or because of you, isolating at home alone.

When I got sober, I recall the first time I created and held up a boundary. I can’t remember why, but I remember thinking, “Who the hell do you think you are?” And I was able to use the tools, and remind myself that I was preventing future resentments. Harder still was the next thought- “They are going to wonder who the hell I think I am! Seriously, they are going to think I am a total bitch!” That was harder to let go of. I want to be liked. I think we all do. Running the risk of making a decision that will be deemed unpopular was the hardest part of all. This is where that other important tool comes into play- acceptance. But that is another blog.
A recent event that brings this to mind is the relapse of a dear friend. I have been with her through several, cleaning her up and getting her to treatment, or to a meeting, or a hospital. This time, I stood back. Many people were running around like headless chickens, panicking and worrying and trying to figure out what to do. I had phone calls all day and night, from all over the country, and I had to tell them all- this time, I am not going to carry the alcoholic. It was a very hard thing to do for all the reasons I mentioned previously, and for some that are not for this blog. I was afraid of being judged as uncaring; I was afraid that she might hurt herself if I didn’t intervene yet again. I was afraid she would hate me. I was afraid that if I suggested that everyone stay out of her way and let her hit a proper bottom that she could hurt herself and everyone would say it was my fault. It was excruciating, truth be told. Sometimes, I think we cave in on our boundaries because it is so much harder than giving in.

This boundary was not just for me and my own sanity. It was not only for the fact that I am a mother and my kids need me. It was partly because, if I drop everything and run to all the people in my life who turn back to drinking and call me wasted and crying, then I am still a slave to the disease. We can not fix everyone. We have to stay centered and available for those who want to be sober. We sometimes can not do anything for those who are self will running riot, and its important to make that distinction. And that boundary was there for my friend; when I go running to clean her up, I am enabling. I am propping her up on the way down. We hurt people when we do that. This is the meaning of the road to hell being paved with good intentions.

That friend still isn’t speaking to me; and that has to be okay. I can’t live in the results; I have to live in the truth, even if it isn’t the most comfortable place to be. That was a great gift of recovery to me; to know myself well enough to know where I end and others begin, and to make sure they know it, too. If I haven’t made a boundary clear, then its absurd to resent someone for crossing it. Boundaries are not to make me less accessible; on the contrary. I am more accessible for the right reasons. I am not doing things to be liked, but to be real. Being real means being vulnerable. Being vulnerable means being accessible. Its not easy.

When drinking and using, there was no way that I could know myself. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think I wanted to know myself. But the core of myself is the same as the core of all ourselves; we are all packets of Universal Truth and contain within us the profound ability to care deeply for others. Beyond all the fear that speaks loudly to us and directs most of our conscious thoughts, there is a quiet voice that is encouraging us to grow and love and receive miracles and be playful, rambunctious, silly, generous, brave, full of wonder, awe and strength. This voice is muffled by addiction, and strangles all that is trying to grow in us. If people truly knew what they were made of, they would wake up every day inspired and delighted, or at the very least ready to take on whatever the day might bring, sober.