In Praise of Nothing

I'm pretty new to 12-step meetings. I've probably attended about ten altogether. Last week I returned to my favourite group after having been away for eight months. For that time I didn't think it necessary for me to go but, after having recently read Healing the Shame That Binds You (a tremendously helpful book by John Bradshaw), I thought it would be really good for me to get back into Al-Anon.

Bradshaw emphasizes the importance of exteriorizing one's toxic shame (an affliction suffered by all codependents) by sharing one's experience of it with trusted and supportive others. We who feel it have a tendency to isolate ourselves and to 'act it out' in very hurtful and inappropriate ways unless we give ourselves permission to be open about our struggles and imperfection and mindfully share our vulnerability with others. With their emphasis on rigourous honesty, reflection, acceptance, and sharing without interference with or from others, among many other very positive things, participating 12-step groups is very highly recommended as one way to go about healing excruciating and immobilizing shame.

As a recovering codependent, I have a lot of inter- and intra-personal habits that have gotten me into trouble with others and myself--habits that at times can help make some of my relationships more painful or unpleasantly complicated than they might otherwise be.

I've often been rewarded (with props AND unwanted psychological burdens) for being an interpersonal 'fixer'--someone who hesitates not at a bit before leaping into action (usually uninvited) whenever something uncomfortable is happening among the people who surround me. I am slowly learning that other peoples' disharmony need not cause me to be terrified or to feel responsible for helping resolve their problems. I am also beginnning to appreciate how arrogant, faithless, and potentially destructive it can be to jump into a 'peacemaking' or advice-giving role, especially if no one has asked directly for my input.

Right before last week's first meeting in a while, I had been wrestling with myself as to whether I should encourage some family members to bring a conflict between them out in the open--a passive-aggressive debacle that has been simmering like a cabbage and brocolli brew under my nose and intermittently troubling me for decades. I really didn't know which tack to take-- instigate a confrontation, or totally avoid these people when they're together, and thereby miss out on some important family gatherings.

My Al-Anon group is so big that we usually have to break into two smaller groups in two rooms separated by a closed door during the 'sharing' part of the meeting so that everyone can have a chance to speak. I had learned from experience that one member, someone who has been badly hurt in life, tends to get so vehement and angry during his 'shares' that he really agitates me.

Last week, as usual, I made sure to choose the room he would not be in. As I sat by the door, already straining to hear a member of my group over the whoosh of air ducts, this man's bellowing from the other room became so loud that I couldn't. I became very irritated and filled with dislike for this guy. I wondered what I should do. Should I poke my head into the other half of the meeting and ask him to please quiet down? This would be a very unusual thing to do--something I would expect this longtime member to meet with a great deal of hostility, especially wound up as he was. Making no comment on other peoples' sharing is a foundational aspect of participation in meetings.

But what about my right to be able to participate in the meeting by being able to hear what others in my group were saying? Surely I couldn't be the only one who was bothered by his loudness. Would taking this risk do anything useful, or would it just bring me even more discomfort? I decided it was in my best interest to remind myself that his turn would probably soon be over, and to just try my best not to let myself be further distracted by my irritation with him.

When the two halves rejoined at the end of the meeting to hold hands in a circle for the closing ritual, I thought, "There's no freakin way I'm holding HIS hand", and placed myself across the room from him.

Once we'd all said the serenity prayer together, our hands dropped and the room erupted into a bunch of lively conversations--like a good cocktail party, erm, without the cocktails. Not knowing anyone, I felt awkward and shy, so, rather than striking up or joining a conversation, I busied myself with taking down and putting away some of the program books and posters. In order to retrieve my coat from the opposite side of the crowd before leaving, whom should I have to sidle my way past but this guy who had so offended me. As I did, feeling all bristly, he happened to greet another member next to me with warm (normal volume) enthusiasm. I took note.

Tonight, when it was time for the group to split in two, I thought, "You want some surprises, you want to be more open...why not stay in the same group with this guy and see what happens?" Out of about seven meetings with this guy, this happened to be the only one in which he remained calm during his share. Not only that, but he impressed me with his intelligence and articulation. I could tell he appreciated what I had to say, too, because he looked in my eyes and nodded with recognition a few times as I was speaking.

At the end of meeting when it was time to get in a circle, there was no one in the space between the two of us. Being still somewhat unfamiliar with the rituals, I took his hand a bit early. I almost dropped it when I realized it wasn't quite time to do that, but it felt okay there, so I just gently but firmly held it. He didn't pull away from me, either.

That was all pretty damn cool, no thanks to any 'proactivity' or stage directions from me, and I look forward to next Wednesday night.

As to my family problem, I now have my answer. It's enough simply to say once and in the moment that a behaviour is bothering me and to humbly ask someone to stop doing something that hurts me or makes me uncomfortable and leave it at that. If that doesn't prompt more desirable behaviour, I always have the option of removing myself rather than uselessly trying to change someone else. That way I preserve my well-being and the possibility that I can return to the scene later if I want to see what else can happen, without rancour or implicitly disrespecting anyone's right to make their own choices.

Sometimes it's even more helpful and interesting for me in the long run to do nothing at all.