If... and When

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!      

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

Kipling's poem is a favourite of mine.  He less famously referred to words as the most powerful drug used by mankind.  I find his words inspiring.  I've been thinking a lot about family dynamics recently.  Personally, and professionally, families are a solid interest for me.  They never cease to interest, excite, and baffle in equal measure.  Sharing experiences with a good friend, we began to reflect on the bonuses to be found in recovery (of any description) and self awareness allowing one to step aside, or stand back. 

Live and let live is something of a mantra for me just now.  It allows me to free up my resources and direct them towards investments more likely to produce a return (rather than adding fuel to the fire).  The statement 'you can pick your friends, but you can't choose your family' sums up the position many of us find ourselves in somewhere along the way.  Family, for me, is where recovery is most often pushed to its limits, and the often deeply engrained dynamics means this is the zone in which recovery really meets its match.

I heard someone share about their mother recently, describing her as a version of Edina from Absolutely Fabulous, famous for offering unsolicited advice and solutions to problems others have not yet noticed, let alone found troubling.  Recovery can provide the space that relationships need to thrive - offering a distance that emotional attachments can all too often negate. 

Addiction is a family illness.  It pervades the family, and affects everyone in it.  That's not to say that everyone will share the same symptoms.  Turning to drink, drugs, or some other substance is the most obvious manifestation, but addiction lurks in the shadows and the quieter effects may be no less damaging.  It is the untreated 'ism' that is pain personified.  Hurt people hurt people.  Often without knowing it. 

Knowing all this is of no value unless it informs one's response to, and within the family system.  Finding a personal meaning for the word detachment forms the basis of many recovery relationships - literally dis-engaging from another's behaviours, declaring one's independence and re-aligning responsibility to those things that one truly does have control over is an immensely liberating journey but one whose distance is not to be underestimated. 

Kipling (with whom, I just discovered, I share a birthday) was right.  Hanging up one's gloves, and choosing not to get back in the ring is, for me, the way forward.  The story continues to play out.  Most of the characters are there, true to type, familiar lines well rehearsed.  Same old, same old.  Or maybe not.  I have seen and felt the ripple effects.  There is another brilliant slogan:  Let it begin with me...  With every thought, word, action and interaction I have a choice - whether to return to my role, or surrender my script and walk off set.  Be the change you wish to see...

Reading from Courage to Change Daily Reader:  March 12

What does another person's mood, tone of voice, or state of inebriation have to do with my course of action? Nothing, unless I decide otherwise.  For example, I have learned that arguing with someone who is intoxicated is like beating my head against a brick wall. Yet, until recently, I would always dive right into the arguments, because that was what the other person seemed to want.

In recovery I discovered that I don't have to react just because I have been provoked, and I don't have to take harsh words to heart. I can remember that they are coming from someone who may be in pain, and try to show a little compassion. I certainly don't have to allow them to provoke me into doing anything I don't want to do.

Detachment with love means that I stop depending upon what others do, say, or feel to determine my own well-being or to make my decisions. When faced with other people's destructive attitudes and behavior, I can love their best, and never fear their worst.  Detachment is not caring less, it's caring more for my own serenity.