Erasmo

Twice a week I volunteer, tutoring first through third graders.

Wednesday is my day to work w/ Erasmo, age eight. He is an English learner, small and thin with a wiry, mischievous face. The first time I met him, he told me he had ten brothers, ten sisters, and a pet dinosaur at home. He and I immediately bonded. He says, “I miss you every day you’re not here.”

But he is a challenge. He clearly has given up on ever learning this reading thing. He will only look at things that are easy, but everything’s hard for him. I always spend the first half hour trying to get him to sit in his chair and focus. He is up and down, wants a drink of water, wants to watch a spider in the window, wants to position the book cart in just the right place.

Today he wanted to show me some fall leaves he picked up outside the boy’s room. I never yell at him, but I spoke firmly and said, “They won’t let me come any more if you don’t read.” Usually that works. But he just sat staring off in space. I tried my usual prodding—no response. Finally I pretended to knock on his head and said, “Anybody home?” That got a grin out of him.

But he still wouldn’t look at his book. I said, “Is anything bothering you?”

After a long time he said, “I miss my grandma.”

I said, “Where is she?”

“She died.”

I said, “When did she die?”

“When I was in my mother’s tummy.”

I thought Oh for Christ’s sake. Out loud I said, “You really miss your grandma even though she died before you met her.”

For some reason that perked him up. He opened his book and started to read. We worked for about twenty minutes.

Then he said he wanted to show me something, so I watched as he made flower and butterfly sculptures out of his leaves, scotch tape, and cut-up pieces of a straw he found under the table. I could only say, “How beautiful, how beautiful.”

Some folks may think I am a pushover, and I am; but for what price am I also going to squash his sense of wonder and beauty? I pray for God to show me the way to reach this darling boy, even if only by letting him know someone loves him.

Just When I Thought It Was Safe...

Well I thought I was over getting trashed last week. But I’m not. Went to a meeting last night and my trasher was there. As soon as I saw him, I felt all jittery and upset. I thought, “Damn, he goes to the noon meetings every day. Can’t he stay home once in a while?”

I sat where I couldn’t see him, but I didn’t enjoy the meeting much. (It wasn’t just his presence; people were having private conversations while others were sharing.)

I felt so pissed, I went home and ate about a cup of peanut butter mixed with about a cup of choc syrup and powdered milk. Then I had some French bread while I watched a show about the Great Chicago Fire. Felt pretty sick as I went to bed.

A wise Al-Anon once told me, “When you can't get over emotional pain, ask yourself, 'Have I ever felt this way before?'”

Meditating on her words, I am reminded how my older brother always hated me. When I was just leaning to crawl, he’d stomp on me and I’d go splat. According to my mom, I got so frustrated, I would bite my own hand.

One can see the parallels--I got stomped on at a meeting, went splat, and now I can’t get back at the guy. (Well I did think about putting dog doo on his car door handles, but that’s not the Al-Anon way.) You might say I was biting my own hand last night with all that peanut butter, etc.

Today’s entry in the One Day at a Time book told about having compassion for our alcoholic’s pain. I thought, “Anybody who would say the things my trasher said must be really hurting.” There’s the famous phrase-- Hurting People hurt other people.

Went to the noon meeting today and every time I had to look at Mr. Trasher, I imagined him all bloody and bruised. You know, it worked. I felt kindness and compassion. People shared about Step 3, turning one’s life over to the Higher Power. I shared about letting go of controlling my daughter. Mr. Trasher shared about letting go of controlling his daughter.
I walked out of the meeting feeling better than I have in a long time.

Poe Gets Trashed. Survives With Difficulty

My heart feels like someone scraped it raw. I got trashed during a meeting last week. I was sharing on the third step when this guy interrupted me, very angry. The gist of it was that he wanted to share a second time and I reminded him of his mother.

Now I’ve been in Al-Anon long enough to have developed a lot of healthy behaviors, one of which is to not exacerbate a conflict. I do this by remaining calm (Well fairly calm in this case) and reflecting loving kindness. So despite my inclination to stomp out of the meeting or attack him back, I stayed, prayed, and basically worked the third step.

But I was pissed. The meetings are supposed to be a safe place, free from the alcoholic insanity, and nothing makes me crazier than cross talk, especially hostile cross talk.

I must stress that this is an extremely rare incident. In eighteen years I can only recall two similar occurrences, curiously both directed at me.

In any case, I decided I needed to assert myself, so later I called my sponsor and we rehearsed two short loving sentences. Next day I ask to speak with the guy in private after the meeting. I said, “What happened yesterday was very hurtful.”

He said, “Yes, it was.”

I thought, “Wow, he’d apologizing; that was easy.”

Then I began my second sentence about how the meeting is not the place to bring up the fact that someone is reminding us of our mother. He hit the ceiling. Apparently he had thought I had been apologizing to him! After that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise; he just stood there, attacking me, taking my inventory, interrupting, wouldn’t let me talk. In fact he reminded me of my mother.

I stayed pretty calm, but after awhile I just started feeling about 6 years old and my brain shut off. Twice I tried to interject love: “We have so much in common, can’t we get along?” But he didn’t want to hear any of it; he stomped off, calling over his shoulder that I was crazy.

So that’s what happened. I know the guy is nuts, not following the Al-Anon way. Why get all depressed?

I did talk to friends and with my sponsor (She said she would have decked him). I prayed a lot.

Here are my conclusions:

We are all captives of our culture, whatever it happens to be.
The alcoholic culture I grew up in had some Great Forbiddens:
You must never be weak.
You must always win.
You must never be stupid.
You must never make a mistake.
If even one person thinks you weak, stupid, mistaken, or a loser, then you are.
This makes you unlovable and worthy of contempt.

My codependent mind tells me I should have defended myself better—maybe if I’d said this or that, he’d realize the error of his ways.

So what to do?

I must recognize that living with the disease of alcoholism has made me vulnerable and when faced with my weakness, treat myself the way I’d treat a sick friend.

It doesn't hurt to do a 4th Step Inventory. Even before this guy attacked me, I had been secretly impatient with him. Who knows? Maybe he sensed it and was reacting in some fashion.
So I resolve to be more patient with everyone, especially those who don't deserve it.

Finally, I must love my own poverty. My weakness and my stupidity are as much a gift from God as my strength and intelligence and I lay both at his feet.