Families in Recovery

Not long ago, 17-year-old Tyler had to pick up his dad from a bar. Too drunk to stand up, Tyler’s father had to be dragged to the car.

This scenario wasn’t unusual for Tyler’s family. Until just recently, his mother took on the grim task alone.

When I saw Tyler the next day, his mood was somber. Initially he talked about his failing grades. The hopelessness of his spirit was palpable. “I don’t care about my grades anymore,” he said, sounding defeated.

His words were hard to hear. Along with possessing many commendable traits, Tyler has always entertained high aspirations for himself.

Tyler, along with others who share his plight, is deeply troubled. Professional help is highly recommended, but they also need support from healthy adults in the community and family members who are removed from the situation.

When caring people offer a listening ear, taking a moment to walk with someone along the path of sorrow, the relief they provide is priceless.

In our counseling session, I expressed empathy to Tyler while allowing myself to drop into the solemn atmosphere of the moment – the only way I could connect with him.

“Tyler, last night had to be very rough for you,” I said simply.

“I’m used to it,” he replied in a resigned tone.

As he spoke, I kept thinking to myself, “How tragic.”

Tyler’s hollow eyes told me he had numbed himself to the inevitable. He was giving up.

It was all too clear to me that his father’s poison was also poisoning the entire family.

We are inclined to become accustomed to the familiar – synchronizing ourselves to the status quo – even if it isn’t good for us. The tendency to make a bad situation normal is often the only way to endure something. But it also narrows our perspective and our options.

Concerned that it could easily happen to Tyler, I advised him to look beyond his current life situation.

“Don’t get anchored to the belief that this is all there is to life, Tyler,” I said. “Never give up believing that there is more than this. Outside the walls of your experience at home, many other possibilities exist. You can choose a better way – a better life for yourself. I hope you always remember that.”

Tyler and I sat quiet for a long time, joined in the stillness.

He broke the silence by talking about the immense anger he has toward his father, especially for “what he does to my mother.”

She’s hard-working and dedicated to her family, but increasingly her spirit’s worn down, fatigued from the endless parade of dashed hopes and countless episodes of tears.

The other night, I learned, she was outraged at Tyler’s dad for what he continues to put the family through. But because he is too far into his disease, Tyler’s father was deaf to her pain.

Tyler’s all-consuming desire is to bring peace to his mother, rescuing her from the anguish caused by his father.

Tyler doesn’t always feel angry toward his dad. He often experiences contradictory emotions.

“It’s hard staying angry at your father, isn’t it, Tyler?” I asked. “You love and care for him. It would probably be easier if you didn’t, right?”

Tyler nodded, sadness etched in his face.

His quandary is easy to understand; it’s hard despising the alcoholic you love. Amid the sorrow and anger, you can’t help but feel compassion for him or her or them. Your heart betrays you. You can’t stay angry.

“If you were me, what would you do to help my mother and my father?” Tyler asked.

I responded: “I hope that I would realize I couldn’t help them, Tyler, that my parents’ problems can’t be fixed by me.”

Tyler’s question was fitting. Children raised in alcoholic homes adopt a caregiver role. Instead of naturally assuming that their parents are there for them, such children are convinced of the opposite, feeling responsible for their parents’ welfare. Role reversal occurs; children function as the parents in the household.

The pressure to achieve the impossible – to fix their parents – is horrendous.

To lighten Tyler’s load and to help him heal, I will be using various therapeutic tools and I will be working with his parents, attempting to steer them in healthier directions.

If you or someone you know has been affected by a loved one’s drinking, I suggest you contact Al-Anon Family Groups at 1-888-425-2666. Al-Anon is an anonymous fellowship of relatives and friends of alcoholics who share their experience, strength and hope in order to solve their common problem of living with the family disease of alcoholism.

About the author: Salee Reese is a licensed clinical social worker who has been providing clinical services in the area for 17 years. Her column, Life Changes, offers personal, relationship and family advice and appears each Sunday in the Living section of The Journal Gazette.