Yes You Are – Christine Beck

My Adult Children of Alcoholics meetings end with members stating an Affirmation. We began by using the list on page 329 of the Big Red Book. Those affirmations all begin with “It is okay.” Some examples are “It is okay to know another way to live.” “It is okay to say no without feeling guilty,” and “It is okay to say ‘I don’t know.’” Many of these affirmations mirror the statements that different meetings have developed into a Bill of Rights. Examples are “I have a right to say no.” “I have a right to take healthy risks,” or I have the right to expect honesty from others.” These affirmations are helpful, but they do not go to the heart of claiming who I am as a person in recovery.  They do not include statements such as “I am lovable just as I am,” “I am vulnerable in relationships,” or… Continue reading

Days in The Life of an Adult Child – Enough – By Sherry Hawn

As a young woman I never saw myself as an addict or a broken person. I smugly believed that since I hadn’t been arrested, hospitalized, medicated or forced to undergo EST, and I didn’t take alcohol or drugs, that I had narrowly escaped what seemed to grip my entire family of origin in one way or another. Over the years various family therapists inquired whether I was afraid of being found mentally ill and, of course, I shrugged these misguided questions off instantly. Considering that I worked, went to school, lived on my own, and was seemingly successful by worldly standards, I felt superior, and dare I say, blessed even though I had paralyzing fear and insecurity hidden in my soul. Yes, weight was always a matter of concern, but I wasn’t obese. I was able to camouflage the flesh, I thought, and periodically attempted dieting. Unlike weight, several other… Continue reading

Days in The Life of an Adult Child – Rejection and Self-Acceptance

The theme of rejection towers over denial, grief and anger in my life. That is not to say that the three musketeers were bit parts. They loomed large for decades, but rejection was the mighty overlord of the kingdom. Looking back on it, I wonder what microscopic life force propelled me forward. I was once asked why I hadn’t considered suicide by a professional who should have known better than to plant the idea. Cowardice was the answer, I thought, but never bothered to say. I was never normal, whatever that is, and never fit in. Even as I write this, I am tempted to limit that rejection to socio-economics. But that’s untrue. I was “unfit” and defective in every human sense. Too small at four pounds. Too weak and requiring C-section birth. Too high maintenance; needing goat’s milk. Too slow to learn how to tie my shoes or tell… Continue reading