How to Help
Friends,
First and foremost, I want to say as best I can how humbling and sustaining it has been to receive your cards,
emails, texts, chats, phone calls and hugs while we all take this walk with Peter. I’ve been lifted up and
soencouraged, even as I’ve somewhat retreated in order to practice good self‐care and find my own way through
this process. Know that your reaching out to me has, indeed, made a difference.
You heard from Peter about his journey, and I thought it might be helpful for you to hear from me. Someone
recently said to me that alcoholism is a selfish disease. It didn’t take long for me to learn that moving through
life in relationship with an alcoholic is always subject to the disease rearing its proverbial ugly head. Good days
and bad days. Ups and downs. But then, if the alcoholic makes the decision to choose recovery, it is a pivotal
point in time and in the relationship, not just with a spouse, but with everyone who is in any kind of relationship
with the alcoholic. The catch in this is that you may not even know that you ARE in relationship with an
alcoholic… until and if the alcoholic makes another pivotal decision to choose transparency. That step requires
raw honesty, vulnerability and ultimately accountability. That’s where Peter is and that’s where we are right
now together, all of us.
Oh, sure, I have moments when I’m angry. I’m still here in Elkins – not only dealing with my own part of our life
with work and passions and commitments – but also our house, our pets, our finances, family crises of the heart
or circumstances – all by myself, while Peter is sequestered away not having to cook his meals or vacuum the
living room or check the oil in the car or mow the lawn. The next three weekends I will be spending driving 12
hours round trip in order to visit him for 2½ hours on Sunday afternoons, and my whole 3‐day holiday weekend
will be spent in Family Weekend activities there, from 8‐6:30 each day. Not how I intended to spend my only 3‐
day weekend this summer. I don’t get to text him, Facebook chat or Instagram, and only get to talk with him for
10 minutes per week on Mondays. It isn’t the partnership I bargained for. I want my life back and our life back.
So yes, I feel anger and sadness and helplessness to affect the situation.
But then there is the cliché about the vows we made. In sickness and in health. That wasn’t an empty promise. I
promised before God and our witnesses that I would do my best to inspire him, even as he has inspired me by
his courage and bravery in laying out his most vulnerable self for a whole community to accept. Or not. Because
his very health and life depends on choosing to ask for help with something that is bigger than him right now.
Because he truly wants to take his life back, too. And if he doesn’t do that, then we will never have OUR life back
either. Not fully.
Last weekend we chose a mantra for this experience – make it count. He assured me when I left him there that it was already counting. He was at peace, calm, hopeful, committed, eager to get started on doing the really hard
work. In the ten minutes I’ve spoken with him since, he said they don’t give them time to sit around. He has
voluminous homework, group sessions, individual time with his counselor, doctors, and physical activity (that’s
not one of his favorite things, you know).
When an alcoholic relapses, the act of taking that drink after a period of sobriety is the end of the relapse phase.
Relapse has been in process for a while and culminates in the drink(s). His hard work is to figure out what gets
him to that point and focus on recognizing the triggers and the beginning of relapse at work, and then changing
those patterns. This staff at this facility is masterful at that task. They know what they’re doing.
I’ve been asked what I need right now. I’m grateful for the question, because it communicates the care and
community in which we live together, and the Christian love to which God calls us. I don’t always know the
answer, because it changes day by day (or even more frequently). Today I know that I am using this time to look
inward and determine what I think I can contribute to the renewal, asking what can I do to make it count? Group
settings are not easy for me yet. There’s too much to process. Individual conversations are more do‐able. Just a
moment ago, I let the dogs out and see that the back yard was mowed tonight. Yay! I’ve arranged for someone
to come during the day and play with Hamish, the new pup, so he isn’t bored out of his mind before I get home.
Reading your cards and notes are sustaining me more than I can tell you. These are the little things that get me
through the day.
How can you make it count for yourself and for DMPC? I encourage you to go to the Town Hall meeting after
church this Sunday. Talk with each other. Don’t be afraid to express to one another whatever you’re feeling
about this process. I won’t be present for that because I want you to feel free to talk among yourselves. Some of
you have already shared some of your own journey through alcoholism or substance abuse with a friend or
family member. The helplessness that we feel is diminished in the sharing together. The sharing creates a
stronger, intentional community that cares for its wounded, provides a soft place to fall and, more importantly,
lifts them up again. I want that for you.
That’s where I am today – still a bit wounded myself, but committed to my husband and the healing – to making
it count. Thank you for your part in it, for the space and grace to each of us to take it at our own pace, for
reaching out as you’re moved to, understanding that I’m taking one thing at a time, one day at a time.
Peace,
Tina
