Do you ever do what I do?

Old timers tell us when we’re new, “Wait for the miracles.” And sooner or later, if we keep coming back, they start to happen. A difficult relationship starts to improve. We make it through a crazy blowup or a stressful holiday with our serenity intact. An Al-Anon tool really works in that tough conversation.

And then I extrapolate. And I end up in the ditch.

Hope is good…right?

We recently went through a tough season of boundary adjustments and increased detachment with Kid Qualifier #1. Translation: He quit talking to us after we gave him a hard ‘no.’ His disease is progressing, and haunting every interaction is the silent, terrible possibility that it might be our last. Sometimes the disease wins. So taking the risk of saying no was hard, and being out of touch took its toll on us, his parents.

After being out of contact for awhile, he called, and we started repairing some bridges. He came by for dinner. We had a wonderful visit– balm to my heart after wondering if I’d ever see him again. Full of gratitude, I hugged him as he left.

The Committee never sleeps. As soon as he drove off, the voices said, You know, if this was a movie, he’d die on the way home. And after I shut that down, they started along the opposite tack: Maybe this is his turnaround point. Maybe everything will be okay now.

And guess what? For my own sanity, I have to shut that line of thinking down too.

The Committee

You know The Committee? The diabolical chorus of voices in our heads: the rehearsal demons, the obsessive thinking goblins, the rumination monster. The ones that forecast doom after every little incident.

They tell you that your loved one being five minutes late means relapse, or that those distant sirens mean your phone is about to ring and it’s That Call. I don’t know about yours, but mine can have me imagining the funeral after one unanswered text. Those home movies are pretty damn convincing.

As if that weren’t enough of a problem, for some of us, The Committee has an evil side gig. It tells us stories with happy endings, instead of the usual horror reels.

Those same voices that predict disaster after a small bad incident can also extrapolate a small good incident into a perfect fantasy future.

What’s so wrong with that? Isn’t hope, like, a virtue? A positive thing? Not when The Committee gets hold of it!

Extrapolation

It works like this for me. Something wonderful happens, like Partner Qualifier doing Thing X that he promised he’d do, when he said he’d do it, without me reminding (*cough! nagging!*) him. (I should’ve bought a lottery ticket that day!)

I’m excited, I’m grateful, I’m happy. And then my imagination gets involved. This means he’s going to start doing Thing X all the time now! Wow, this issue is fixed! My life will be so much better now that this is resolved and Thing X isn’t a problem anymore! I’m going to be way happier!

Spot the flaw in this thinking? It’s classic Al-Anon.

I’m taking a one-time incident–Partner Qualifier doing Thing X today–and building a new-and-improved future on it. The problem?

Serenity vampires

That future is imaginary! Nothing’s “resolved.”

Those hopeful obsessions cause more train wrecks for me than the fearful ones. Because before I know it, I’ve built a whole sand-castle future based on one event. Now that Partner Qualifier is doing Thing X, everything will be better. Maybe he’ll even quit doing Thing Y. Wow, now Thing Z can happen! Now all our problems are over and I can live happily ever after, and the future will be full of rainbows and unicorns.

Survey says…yeah, right.

I’m basing today’s happiness on a hypothetical future. And that future is based on one moment of one day. Or maybe on one action by one (sick!) person.

And what does that rosy promise bring? Fear. Fear that the alcoholic’s next move might ruin that shiny future and I’ll be right back to despair. Surely there’s some way to keep that from happening!

And once fear moves in, control is right behind. Then all my character defects are off the bench and in the game. I start planning, scheming, clinging, manipulating. Resentment builds when anything gets in the way of my rosy future, the one I planned, the one fate owes me because I’ve put so much effort into making sure it comes true.

And how am I going to feel when this sand castle comes crashing down with the next wave of alcoholic behavior? And who’s responsible for all those feelings? Not the alcoholic. Me, me, me.

Here and now

That day with our son was a blessing, and I felt the glow of it long after. So what’s wrong with hoping that those moments are signs of change?

That fantasy future takes my focus off of the present moment–the only moment God gives me the grace to handle. I start putting my hope in things turning out how I want, instead of putting my trust in the God of my understanding to get me through this 24 hours.

And that’s the crazy thinking that got me here.

Just for today

My old sick self wants to take that moment of happiness and cling to it, squeeze it, make it last. I want today’s blessing to be a guarantee of tomorrow. But in doing that, I lose today’s happiness too. Because that kind of ‘hope’ feels like fear. It’s based on contingencies I can’t control. And basing my serenity on someone else’s behavior, alcoholic or not, puts me in the ditch every time.

When I live in the future–whether rosy or bleak–I’m removing myself from God’s Presence. The God of my understanding is always willing to meet me here, now. He has never failed to carry me through the present moment. But I think He’s trying to teach me that it’s not His job to carry me through all my imagined scenarios. Reality is His problem. The stories I create are mine.

Rejecting those happy moments to try to protect myself from disappointment isn’t the answer either. They’re gifts. And I’d better take whatever happy moments I can get on this journey. Refusing to be happy right now because I know it can’t last doesn’t make it hurt less later. It only takes away my joy in the present.

So what did I do that day instead? I thanked my Higher Power for that happy evening and did my best to let go of my expectations. I said to myself, over and over, Just for today, just for today, just for today. Just for today, we had a good day. Just for today, we’re connected. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

This too shall pass. And that’s okay. By not expecting more of the moment than it could give, I fully felt its joy. That’s new for me. I’m grateful.

If I stay where my feet are, I can experience grace in this moment. And just for today, that’s enough.

Keep coming back!