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I thank God every day that I am a mother in recovery.

I grew up in an intense, violent, alcoholic home. My father grew up in intensity and abuse. For a while, I was afraid I would somehow repeat the cycle with my own two children.

Some of us recreate what I call “toxic intensity” in an attempt to understand, correct, overcome, or be the opposite of it. For those of us with addictions or the combination of addictions and attention deficit disorder (ADD), creating intensity is a form of self-medication—a crisis that makes our bodies produce the adrenaline we “need” to focus and succeed at something, even if the newly “ginned-up” intensity just helps us get out of the trouble we’ve created.

We also create intensity to divert our attention from what really matters: the sometimes boring option of simply taking care of ourselves and our families. Many of us just go on automatic pilot, living our lives the way our parents did, not realizing that we do have choices. All that being said, please understand this right now: This is not a condemnation of my parents; today I love them deeply.

My father died of alcoholism and diabetes in 1981, at the age of 56. An abused child himself, I believe he passed along to others the pain he felt at the hand of his father. While I forgive him for acting out his rage and depression, I can’t help but wonder how different his life could have been had he been committed to a program of recovery, such as Alcoholics Anonymous, and if he’d had access to modern-day antidepressants.

Today I know his behavior was not my fault. (Many children of alcoholics blame themselves for their parents’ behavior.) I believe that sharing what happened and refusing to pass his pain on to my children is my best way of honoring him.    

My mother was able to set Daddy’s temper flaring in a heartbeat. I know that she put an incredible amount of energy into trying to control his addictions, and in doing so almost destroyed herself. Though Mother’s staying in this violent, alcoholic marriage subjected my brother and me to danger and abuse, I understand how difficult it is to leave an abusive situation when, at times, the situation seems to be improving.

Today I am grateful that throughout those hard years, Mother kept taking us to church, although we sometimes resented it. While we would never dream of talking to anyone about our family secrets, I believe that my youth group involvement—the routine of going, the friendships, the messages that somebody loved me—probably saved me from wider-scale self-destruction.

I am also grateful that in the last few years, Mother and I have both learned that the best way to help an addict is to take great care of yourself, keep the focus on your own issues, and refuse to criticize and react to the addict’s behavior. If I start thinking resentful thoughts, I work hard to stay in the present, to look for my part of the problem, and to “let go and let God.”

As an adult, I take full responsibility for my actions. I know I must ask for help to face my fears; find healthy ways to deal with problems when I want to numb out with alcohol, food, or work; practice self-discipline and pray for focus and maturity so I can balance my checkbook, pay bills, and fold laundry instead of creating a crisis. (For many years, it was a lot more fun to solve a problem than prevent one.)

Like Pearls on a Treasured Necklace: Adding Sane Day After Sane Day

My hope is that by sharing my experiences, we’ll have this guide to turn to when we are challenged. We’ll have firsthand proof that life does get better. We’ll see together that we can be transformed.

We may give up excitement for a steady job, fancy clothes for markdowns at Old Navy or the resale shop, and sacrifice rushing to an important meeting or date in favor of being home for dinner at 6:00 p.m. every night. But when we ask for help from others, put structure in our lives, and face life on life’s terms, God really does “do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.” He takes the routine of our days and strings those days together like pearls on a treasured necklace, helping us to turn, one day at a time, our once hopeless lives into cherished family heirlooms that make a difference, especially for our children. And if we’re extremely lucky, our parents are likely to be thrilled by our progress, and to learn from it as well.

When we practice turnarounds, our children grow up in sane environments. We forgive the past and heal generation upon generation of wounds. Parents and children alike grow up together without feeling the need to destroy ourselves and one another with alcohol, acting out in anger, drugs, or other high-risk behaviors. A legacy of sanity begins. 

Carey Sipp's first book, The TurnAround Mom – How an Abuse and Addiction Survivor Stopped the Toxic Cycle for Her Family, and How You Can, Too, guides fellow “children of chaos” to create the kind of sane and loving home life that helps prevent next-generation addiction and abuse. Her book is available at Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/TurnAround-Mom-Addiction-Survivor-Family--/dp/0757305962/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1317756315&sr=8-1

 Read more articles by Carey Sipp here.

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