Post 003
And Then Came Al-Anon
It was January 23, 2024.
I walked into a meeting.
The room was plain, the chairs in a circle,
and something in me knew I could no longer run.
It wasn’t my first time.
More than 25 years earlier,
I had sat in a room during my first marriage.
Back then, I didn’t understand.
This time, I could no longer look away.
I had to fully accept this horrific, progressive disease.
I could no longer deny it.
I had lived on the merry-go-round of denial.
The endless spinning of excuses.
The desperate hope that maybe tomorrow
things would change—if only I could fix them,
if only I could make them see.
But Al-Anon asked me to pause.
To sit in the truth.
To hear my own voice among others
who had lived the same secret pain.
It was not easy.
Excavating my soul never is.
Owning my part, my silence, my fear.
And grieving the mess I could no longer pretend away.
The Beginning of Healing
That night, I understood something new:
I was not alone.
There were others who had walked this road.
Who carried the same secret pain.
And for the first time in a very long time,
I felt the faint flicker of hope—
not for him, but for me.
Hope that I could find the person I had lost.
That I could release the self I became
in the shadow of his gambling and alcohol addiction.
Because I had become just as delusional as he was—
trying to process his behavior and lies.
Our home was chaos and confusion,
a true insanity I could no longer deny.
It was never my job to fix him.
It was never mine to carry.
And slowly, I began to learn that truth.

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She went inward.
And her light came pouring out.
— Stephanie Stanley
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Disclaimer: This writing is not a substitute for therapy. It’s soul-led support, rooted in compassion and lived experience.

