I love this community, thank you for building it Courtney.
I am the friend mentioned in this piece. It's really quite incredible to read this, after so many years have passed and with this serendipity: tomorrow is my mom's sobriety anniversary, marking six years without relapse. So much has happened in these six years that have molded my …
I love this community, thank you for building it Courtney.
I am the friend mentioned in this piece. It's really quite incredible to read this, after so many years have passed and with this serendipity: tomorrow is my mom's sobriety anniversary, marking six years without relapse. So much has happened in these six years that have molded my understanding around the role of the feet washer and the person whose feet are being washed. I have been in and out of al-anon for over ten years, many years before my mom chose on her own volition to go into rehab. The concept of "surrender" or "bowing to my suffering" as one commenter put it so well, has shape-shifted so much since pre-sobriety, early sobriety, and 6 years, of sobriety. I have also become a spousal caregiver in the years since. This created brand new layers of understanding (and misunderstanding) around what it means to show up for someone in health crisis. Where I stand now is that I think it may be possible to wash the feet of those we love the most. But, and big but, it requires that we can wash our own feet, that we do wash our own feet regularly, tenderly, and that we are willing to accept it from others when offered. This work has been the hardest of my life. I have always thought of myself as a compassionate helper. This crumbled to pieces upon realizing that until I can do this for myself, and accept it from others, I have no business doing it for loved ones.
I'm so glad to hear your Mom is on the mend - it's a rough course for all involved.
I fully acknowledge that hind sight is 20/20 but suspect that my mother's dealing with alcoholism for forty plus years had much to do with five of us pushing too hard for her to get help. We found out two weeks before she died of cancer, at age eighty, that her father committed suicide when she was a teenager a couple hours after they'd had a really bad argument. I'm not sure she ever had a safe place to share that burden.
Love you, Court, and love this reflection on where your journey has taken you in the years since this post first went live. I wish I could wash your feet today.
I love this community, thank you for building it Courtney.
I am the friend mentioned in this piece. It's really quite incredible to read this, after so many years have passed and with this serendipity: tomorrow is my mom's sobriety anniversary, marking six years without relapse. So much has happened in these six years that have molded my understanding around the role of the feet washer and the person whose feet are being washed. I have been in and out of al-anon for over ten years, many years before my mom chose on her own volition to go into rehab. The concept of "surrender" or "bowing to my suffering" as one commenter put it so well, has shape-shifted so much since pre-sobriety, early sobriety, and 6 years, of sobriety. I have also become a spousal caregiver in the years since. This created brand new layers of understanding (and misunderstanding) around what it means to show up for someone in health crisis. Where I stand now is that I think it may be possible to wash the feet of those we love the most. But, and big but, it requires that we can wash our own feet, that we do wash our own feet regularly, tenderly, and that we are willing to accept it from others when offered. This work has been the hardest of my life. I have always thought of myself as a compassionate helper. This crumbled to pieces upon realizing that until I can do this for myself, and accept it from others, I have no business doing it for loved ones.
I'm so glad to hear your Mom is on the mend - it's a rough course for all involved.
I fully acknowledge that hind sight is 20/20 but suspect that my mother's dealing with alcoholism for forty plus years had much to do with five of us pushing too hard for her to get help. We found out two weeks before she died of cancer, at age eighty, that her father committed suicide when she was a teenager a couple hours after they'd had a really bad argument. I'm not sure she ever had a safe place to share that burden.
Oh Mark, that's so powerful and painful. Sending you love and gratitude for your sharing here.
Thank you for your kind thoughts Courtney
Love you, Court, and love this reflection on where your journey has taken you in the years since this post first went live. I wish I could wash your feet today.