Hey..Don’t talk about my Mom. We’ll go outside!

I believed that idea with all the strength I had…and very proud of it. I used to come to the rescue of women in trouble, even in my addiction. I once stopped my car in Morristown, N.J. as a girl was getting beaten by a guy as his friends watched. I urged her to get in the car and that I could take care of the guy beating her and 1 or 2 of his buddies now moving toward me, but not all of them! (I might have been exaggerating my street fighting skills a tad!) Her response was to implore me to leave and that “she would be alright”. I left shaking my head and wondering why she wouldn’t save herself.

What I didn’t get was that while that was all very nice and noble, I really was coming from a place of superiority…a place of “one up”. My personal relationships with women were in tatters. For the life of me I did not “get” or understand that this relational dissonance had anything to do with my relationship with my mother. I was a protector of women in the external world, but wound up abusing them verbally and emotionally in my private, intimate relationships and “shocked, hurt, confused and betrayed when they said adios. Actually, most times I left first for another relationship.

They often said after, that “I was a great father but lousy husband/partner”. This only further confused me and triggered my defensive posture of anger and my core belief that “you can’t trust women…they’ll always let you down and leave you. They’re calculating and disloyal”.

After 10 years in sobriety my reactive anger was somewhat improved, but nowhere near what I felt it should be…especially in my marriage. I was seeking a solution and read a book by John Lee “Stepping into the Mystery”. There was a paragraph in this book that punched me in the stomach…in my gut I knew it was true, but it challenged everything I had previously internalized about mom…”Until a man can admit to himself that his mother isn’t all sweetness and light, he will carry the witch inside him, refusing to embrace her or to wrestle with her. He will never acknowledge that he not only loves his mother but hates her as well. He will never be whole. If men don’t wrestle with the witch in their mothers, then when the witch in their wives or lovers need confronting, they won’t do it…and the witch will eat him alive. And an easy job she’ll have of it too, because there will be no bones, particularly backbone, for her to break her teeth on”. I instinctively knew this was huge for me and that I needed to address my relationship with my mother. There was something terrifying about this topic…much more so than my father. He seemed easy compared to this journey into the feminine world.

Ann and I went to John’s anger workshop which changed that forever. I was in the middle of doing my work when the facilitator asked me to get angry at my mom. I said I couldn’t do that…”not only was she my mom, but she was dead!”. He asked me to express anger at my ex partners. I immediately let loose with stored anger! He said ‘interesting” (I hate when therapists do that) and suggested that every woman in my life was paying the price for my disowned anger at mom…they were getting it all.

After about an hour of work and prodding, I exploded in anger and rage about my mom…her passivity about my dad’s rages toward me, her emotional distance/disconnection, shaming and criticism. I was stunned at this emotion and further stunned when it led to a ground swell of grief and sobs, as I said for the first time since she died “I miss you and I love you”. This was 33 yrs after her death!

After the exercise, which Ann observed, she told me how relieved she was to see me do this work. She knew my unfinished business with mom often came out on her in anger, frustration, shaming and criticism.

The result of this work was to remove my mother from the pedestal which she neither asked for or deserved. It’s a terrible burden to carry. I could love her as my mom and a woman with great attributes and many flaws as well. I could stop projecting the pseudo “idealized mom” onto Ann and then get angry, shaming, critical when she fell short. I stopped setting her up to fail.

The work then became a dance of intimacy….how do I relate to a flesh and blood woman without the ghost of  “perfect woman” (mom) in my mind? I realized I had projected the “ideal” on mom and mom’s shadow (shaming, critical, cold, withdrawn) on Annie.

As I removed mom from the pedestal and saw her with assets and liabilities; I saw women, particularly Ann, in the same light. I was no longer “little boy” reenacting an immature dependent/disdain dance with Ann that was rooted in my disowned rage at mom. I could stop pulling Ann in and then pushing her away when it got too real/intimate. Waiting for her to leave and then affirming my belief “sure all woman will leave/betray you because they’re cold, calculating and manipulative”.

Our marriage then took on a level of responsibility I had never experienced. I couldn’t blame anyone else. I needed to “plant my flag” and be in the marriage with all of me. For me that meant acknowledging my vulnerabilities particularly, which I had never done.

There was nothing “soft” about this. It took and continues to take the fierce/gentle energy of the Warrior, King and Lover archetypes. Men in the recovery program, as always, supported me on this journey. These were men who would not let me criticize/blame my wife, but always directed me back to my part in whatever conflict we may be having.

To the contrary, in my early recovery I sought the “help” of women. This only brought forward the dark/soft side of my lover, magician, king and warrior archetypes…the dependent/disdainful “adolescent boy” who wanted to seduce all women or get comforted by co-dependent, mothering women. Only men could confer manhood on me through their wisdom, support, identification, trust, love and accountability. The women I chose never held me accountable. When I finally sought out men in recovery, it was both frightening and exhilarating. I instinctively knew the bullshit was over.

The results that I have seen from my own work in this area and other men I have facilitated is miraculous. There is a burden of isolation, anger and grief that is lifted and replaced with a sense of lightness and freedom. I realized Ann was not the problem…nor was I.

Get off the horse!

I’ve wrestled with writing for years…always the same. It better be perfect content and context…something about writing that brings up shame. Who do you think you are?! I think its time to override this and just write. The more difficult aspect is that my writing is going to be personal and hopefully meaningful and helpful to someone.

What a time for celebration! We had three grandchildren visit for the past three weeks. Annabel and Giles from London for one week and Thomas from LA for the next two weeks. How blessed I feel that I am alive to share this time with them and that we have such a beautiful ranch to provide activities and time together that lead hopefully to very fond memories for them. I am also so grateful that Annie is my wife and such a loving, caring wife and  grandmother. I have always dreamed of creating this type of home that would have a warm welcoming spirit to everyone who came. It is so amazing to watch the grandchildren, who live in urban homes, begin to live in surroundings of rivers, fly fishing, mountains, 3 dogs, 4 horses, saddles/bridles,  irrigation pipes, tractors and country fairs. There is beauty everywhere as well as potential danger! I was so proud of their adventurous spirit and the enthusiastic manner they approached these new challenges. There was fear, as well there should be when getting on a 1100lb horse or 26 hp lawn tractor for the first time. Annabel as she rode Annie’s horse in the roundpen for the first time under Annie’s nervous, close supervision. These are not stable horses who couldn’t gallop if you set a bomb off under them. They are experienced, trained but spirited horses. Annabel looked like she was born in the saddle. Next year we will take her on the trails. Giles got on the lawn tractor and his bravado disappeared a little…he realized this was a serious machine. He listened attentively to my directions, warnings and cautions. After I watched him cut a sample area, I told him he could do the back yard (about an acre). His look was priceless! It was as if I had just told him to take that hill! He was so proud of himself. Next day I took him to the lower pasture. This was a new environment…much larger and having the four horses grazing there. Again he was a little nervous…I was relieved to see that! He would look over to see if I was watching and I gave him thumbs up every time. He always responded with a grin and wave..he is one of those people that when he grins or smiles his entire face lights up! I was working on changing some pipe when I heard this singing. I turned and Giles was blissfully singing as he expertly maneuvered the tractor on the pasture. It doesn’t get any better than this. I was so grateful to be a sober grandfather watching his grandchildren confront their fears and move into competency and celebration of their life. It was such a joy to have them here and very sad to say goodby.

Thomas came next for two weeks. Wow has he grown up. He would ask me every evening  “grandpa tell me when you’re going to move the irrigation pipes. I want to go with you and help”. I thought that might last 2-3 times, but he came out every day to help me…with a willing spirit. We took him to a stable he had been to the last summer he was here. We just don’t have a horse we’d trust with him yet and Annie and I riding our own horses. So at this stable, we ride their horses, using their saddlery. The guide checked out Thomas (and grandma and grandpa!) in the corral and all was ok! We set out for our ride which included crossing the Bitterroot River on our horses with the water coming up to mid leg, through pastures and up a mountain trail where the view was spectacular! This was not a follow the horses butt in front of you trail ride. It was challenging and fun. Thomas was excellent. Ever since we took him out the first time several years ago, his composure and strength with his horse in difficult situations is amazing. He focuses immediately and gets his horse to do what he wants.

All of this brings me to what I have been struggling with for several months…fear and surrender/acceptance. As we returned to the barn after our ride, Annie brought up fear in riding with the guide, who shared her beliefs about this subject. She shared how this fear is rational…its a 1100-1300 lb very powerful animal you’re sitting on. If you don’t have some fear, you’re stupid or crazy (her words!). Don’t try to “ride through” a very strong fear on a horse…he’ll sense it and get spooked himself, which will create a wreck! Get off the horse!!!…and walk until you feel grounded again and if you want, get back on the horse or walk back to the stable. 

Her words haunted me for days…get off the horse??!! No male riding instructor had ever said this…the message was invariably be the leader! Get yourself under control and exhibit leadership/dominance or the horse will get confused/spooked and you’ll have a wreck on your hands…and it can happen very, very quickly.

They haunted me because I have had very powerful forces come into my life the past two years…throat cancer in June 2009 followed by 4 surgeries and chemo/radiation for 7 weeks..unable to eat or drink, because of aspiration, for 11 months, feedtube for 2 years for hydration and learning how to speak in an audible hoarse whisper. The past 18 mos my psa went above 4 and then doubled in 12 mos to 9.6 requiring two biopsies…both benign thank God!  While these incidents were dramatic to me and Annie, something felt old and familar about my response…an old pattern. Anger, frustration and some depression began to surface…knocking on my door. The things I was using to get relief and experience joy began to turn on me..my horse galloped off several times while riding him…without cue. I was frightened. The tractor I had dreamed about and gotten, I realized one evening while driving it how very powerful it was. I was frightened. I grew up in the suburbs!! I didn’t have any lifelong experience with horses, tractors or ranching, but I always had physical strength, coordination, determination and youth!! Annie and I were preparing to facilitate a workshop in a public venue for the first time in over two years. My voice is still a hoarse whisper. I was frightened. The knock was becoming  more relentless and the anger and frustration growing….get off the horse!! The words haunted me, but I couldn’t put context to them for me.

I shared my anger and frustration at my men’s stag meeting. One of those shares I drive home with a cringe…God where was the recovery message in my share? Did I sound self pitying…oh God please no!! Anything but that!! I thought more about it and some insight was lurking, but I couldn’t get it. The next night I shared and like so many times after sharing my truth in a meeting the insight comes. As I was sharing, the grief began to boil up and over..the grief that my age old anger, impatience and frustration always tries to hide. I started to realize that while I had fought for my life and survived, that “fight” was no longer working the same way. There are things that no degree of fight, determination, exercise, will or discipline can beat…my voice is what it is. It will never be the same. Just saying that tears my heart and guts out…it feels like quitting! The reality is that I need to get off the horse and walk…I don’t have to fight this in this way. Its to truly grieve the loss i.e. voice, body changes, numb toes, age, etc and accept life on life’s terms and truly trust God’s will for me. Make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand Him…I realize that every decision requires a choice..and every choice involves grief over the thing not chosen. One of the reasons I avoided choice in my addiction. My choice is to leave behind the old anger, frustration and impatience and accept/surrender their comfortable illusion of power and know that I can “fight” for my life each moment of every day by living it to the fullest and when necessary, when I get caught up in the “fight” I can always choose to Get off the horse!

Its amazing the peace that is beginning to come with this realization…and energy. My lifelong fear was always that if I stopped “fighting” I would die. There are so many paradoxes in AA, and this is one for me…the more I surrender the more energy and love I have to give Annie and all those close to me. I will also continue riding my horse Irish, drive my tractor and teach with Annie here on our ranch and wherever we are needed. Thanks for reading. Love and blessings, Tom

Let the Blog Begin

I have procrastinated long enough. It is time to start my portion of the blog!  I think it only appropriate to begin this first blog with a thank you to Mrs. Ford for her profound legacy of courage, class, dignity and commitment…fighting to bring hope to sufferers of breast cancer and alcoholism/drug addiction. She began this journey by courageously acknowledging her disease in public, shattering the prohibition of secrecy and shame. That courage allowed tens of thousands of people to begin facing their disease and get help to begin their healing. I feel profoundly grateful to have worked at the Betty Ford Center and been a part of that legacy. Working at the Center was such a great experience of excellence, training, exposure and most of all having the opportunity to help alcoholics/addicts begin their journey of detox and healing.

There were many encounters with Mrs. Ford {I thought about saying Betty, but thought better of it!!) that showed me her love for alcoholics/addicts and commitment to their healing, but one incident stands out in my mind about her kindness and caring that I will never forget. I was summoned to the Board Room to see Mrs. Ford, about 100 days after starting work at the Center. Being a good alcoholic/addict, my first thought was uh oh, what did I do? Mrs. Ford greeted me warmly and asked me to sit down. She then went on to tell me that she and President Ford knew my son, Chris, was with a Marine recon unit in Iraq and part of his team was trapped behind enemy lines. She said they both were so proud of him and were praying for him nightly. Our visit went on for 15-20 more minutes and she hugged me at the end, telling me she believed Chris would come home safely. There were many other connections with Mrs. Ford and opportunities she provided Ann and myself over the years, but none has meant more to me than those 15-20 minutes in the Board Room with her. That to me said everything about the woman Mrs. Betty Ford…thank you!!