The Façade of the Hibiscus

I just finished reading Purple Hibiscus by Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.  It tells the lives of a Nigerian family through the eyes of the 15-year old daughter, Kambili.  She and her older brother Jaja lead a privileged life.  Their father is a wealthy and respected businessman, and they live in a beautiful house.  But soon we learned that the appearance of their happy home life is just a façade.

As an adult child of an alcoholic, I too feel that my life is somewhat of a façade.  The outer appearance that I show to the world is what I believe the world expects to see and is normal.  However, I realize that I don’t really know what normal is.  What I’m familiar with is family dysfunction.  It’s been my only model growing up in a home with an alcoholic father and ACOA mother.  My choices in life and in choosing a mate were based purely on what was familiar to me.  I didn’t know any better then but that familiarity has bred contempt over the years.

In North America, hibiscus symbolizes a perfect wife or woman.  I have lived the majority of my life trying to be perfect; only in recent years understanding that perfection is part of the ACOA façade.  Learning and understanding my past is helping me to carve out a brighter future for myself.  I’m still taking things one day at a time.

Hi, I’m Liz Hawkins and I’m a recovering Adult Child of an Alcoholic.

Buried Memories

I just returned from a mini vacation to Las Vegas, Nevada, today.  It's not my first time to Vegas but during this trip the slogan '"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" struck a familiar chord.  One of the cardinal rules growing up in an alcoholic home is "There's nothing wrong here and don't you dare tell anyone."  To talk openly about growing up with an alcoholic parent is like breaking the shroud of silence.

My mother, like me, is also an Adult Child of an Alcoholic.  She grew up experiencing the shame of having a drunk for a father too.  And she passed on the message to me that what happens in our house, and what's said is no one else's business.

I was in denial about my family situation for many years.  I convinced myself that my life and upbringing was normal and I had come through just fine.  But when I overcame the barrier of denial, I see that I have been profoundly affected because it requires me to confront the consequences of this disease in a very personal way.

Although I have learned so much in the last eight months or so about how I've been affected by my father's drinking, I still find it hard to believe that I'm not perfectly fine and unaffected by it all.  I supposed I've been great at hiding my feelings or burying my emotions so far down that I've forgotten that they exist.  In fact, I feel that I have some form of selected memory loss because I don't remember much of my childhood.  I seem to have gotten really good at forgetting the unpleasant memories and only recalling the pleasant memories.

When I do recall an unpleasant memory, I tend to turn it into a joke.  I wonder if I should seek professional help in recollecting the unpleasant memories and deal with them; or just let them be. It just something more for me to ponder.

Hi, I'm Liz Hawkins and I'm a recovering Adult Child of an Alcoholic.

Making Time for Me

Someone once told me that with all I have accomplished in the past year or so, it looks like I’m just starting up when most people my age are slowing down.  Simply put, I seem to be a late bloomer.  I was taken aback by this at first; even a little miffed.  But I finally had to concede that that statement was nothing more than an honest observation.

All my life, I have been taking care of everyone else; solving everyone’s problems, and making sure everyone’s needs were met.  It’s a typical ACOA trait sometimes labeled as The Hero.  Also known as The Model Child, we tend to take over family responsibilities; can be an enabler of the alcoholic parent, and ignore our own wants and needs.  The latter is especially true in my case. 

I told the person that referred to me as a late bloomer that I have been taking care of others all my life and have taken no time to care for myself.  Recently, I re-dedicated myself to working on the second draft of my book.  Then my mother announced that she is ready to move into an assisted living facility.  So I have thirty days to arrange everything for her move.  This leaves little time for me to keep the promise I made to myself; to work on my book.

Taking care of the needs of others is so imbedded that it’s hard for me to know how to put myself first.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m always going to take care of my mom.  But I’ve noticed that I have a pattern of saying that I’m going to start doing this or that for myself, and something else comes along and shifts my attention from me to something or someone else. 

Being able to take care of my needs; putting myself first without feeling guilty or that I’m being selfish is something that I struggle with almost every day.  Does anyone else ever feel this way?  Hit me up in the comment box.  I’d like to hear what others are experiencing.  In the meantime, I’m taking baby steps to make that change; making time for me.

Hi, I’m Liz Hawkins and I’m a recovering Adult Child of an Alcoholic.

Reflecting on the past

Sometimes when I take time to reflect on my life, I recall the string of male love interest and think:  What in the world was I thinking?  The answer is that I was not thinking; just reacting to what was familiar to me.

Adult children of alcoholics are sometimes attracted to what is called high-risk relationships.  These relationships are exciting; make you feel needed; offer freedom, and exclusivity.  These are all the things I was denied growing up in my dysfunctional home.  Although, I knew deep inside myself that the high-risk relationship was toxic, it seemed to fill a need that I’d been craving at the time.  It was also addictive.  And just like getting high, getting drunk, or overeating, you feel bad afterward.

They say hindsight is 20/20.  I so blessed to be able to look back and listen to my past; understand it and learn from it.

Hi, I’m Liz Hawkins and I’m a recovering Adult Child of an Alcoholic.