Escaping the attraction of abusive alcoholics:
How I got better

In the backwoods culture of the East Tennessee Mountains, there were two groups of people: The respected members of the community worked hard, kept vigil over their homes, and attended church every Sunday. The others were the poor souls bound for hell and damnation, lost to the rot and ruin of corn liquor and sinful living.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure the dividing line between the two groups was determined by who was best at keeping secrets. My family’s secrets were well-kept.

I have pleasant memories of growing up. My dad worked hard all week, wrote songs, played his guitar, and sang with the choir on Sunday. We marched off to church, me happy in my youthful ignorance and Mom with her daily dose of pills, following Dad’s leadership respectfully.

I just knew I would have the perfect life. I couldn’t wait to grow up.

Before I left high school, our school bus driver convinced me to marry him. I wanted to move to the city, have my own life, and live the perfect dream. He was the answer I had been looking for.

The marriage failed after 20 years and two children. Nothing had prepared me for the shock of losing my husband to another woman.

I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and shame. I tried to fight for myself. After all, he was the one who had done wrong. I had been perfect.

After the divorce, he got the other woman and I got the cold reality of no income. I learned to survive.

I turned my house into a seasonal restaurant for tourists who thought of our mountains as a vacation paradise. I made money serving home-cooked food and smiling until my face ached. I was too busy to notice the pain.

One day my rescuer came walking in the door. I took one look at that charmer and knew I could turn him into the man of my dreams.

He told me how sexy I was. Life was going to work out after all! We were married.

Seven years later I was running for my life. The beatings and bruising turned into chasing after me with a loaded gun and threatening to burn my house down if I even looked at another man. I never knew what would set him off.

After he calmed down, I’d get flowers.

My obsession became “whatever it took” to make the man happy. I started following him around, watching him flirt with other women, kissing them right in my face. If I said anything, I’d get another beating.

One night I was staring at my rage-filled face in the mirror; I didn’t recognize myself. I had lost my mind, fighting with him and pulling his hair.

The law officers advised me to leave before he killed me. I packed a few things and headed west. My hard work, my restaurant, my life, my burned-out home—it was all gone and I was broke.

A good friend suggested I attend some Al-Anon meetings. She had seen my black-and-blue body, my shame, and my pain.

I took her suggestion to heart and walked into a group of complete strangers who helped me turn my life around.

After attending three meetings a week and crying my way back to some semblance of sanity, I decided I could go home. My life was in shambles, but I finally had some self-respect, courage, and hope.

My husband had divorced me and married someone else. At least that was in my favor.

I knew I could handle my life now. But it took yet another dance with a charming abuser to teach me to stop blaming the alcoholics and turn my attention to why I kept repeating the same life lesson.

In working my Fourth Step, I’ve been facing the long-kept secrets of my family tree. A few brave family members are willing to drag the skeletons out of the closet for the benefit of truth and understanding.

It’s a painful journey for me. I’m working it out as best as I can.

Every day I’m up early reading my Conference Approved Literature, finding more truths about myself, and learning to accept myself and my journey without guilt or shame. I’m finding my way. I’m no longer trying to play God in anyone’s life, certainly not my own.

Today, I have a one-day-at-a-time goal—serenity and peace, not so much drama and excitement.

I’ve been a grateful member of Al-Anon for 13 years now. I belong with people who enrich and encourage my life.

I have finally found the missing links in the spiritual foundation of my life: my Higher Power and the love of my Al-Anon family.

By Marcia H., Tennessee
The Forum, January 2009

© Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc. 2009. All Rights Reserved.