CHAPTER 1

Grieve It Forward

Most people have heard of the "pay it forward" concept: A person with noexpectations commits a random act of kindness, the receiver of that kindnessdoes the same for another, and on and on it goes. For those addicts holding fastto their grief, there is a similar concept I call "grieve it forward." A personwith an agenda commits a specific act of cruelty to another, who then carriesthat into his or her day, and passes it on to another, and on and on it goes.

As kindnesses are paid forward, they tend to grow. And they also tend to comeback to us. If we are kind to others, somehow it happens that others are kind tous. Or maybe it's just that we notice kindnesses.

Unfortunately the same is true with grief. When we treat someone cruelly—yell ata clerk or flip off another driver or some more serious breach—we not only hurtthat person. We pretty much guarantee, unless they or someone else steps in tobreak the cycle, that the insult will be passed along. The world will be a bitmeaner. And unless we can find a way to break the cycle of grieving forward,it's going to come back to us. Things are going to escalate. Even if it's onlyour own self we're nasty to, the principle still applies.

Years ago, I knew a woman who lived the "grieve it forward" concept to itsfullest. Around the bars where she worked, others had nicknamed her "Smiley."Looking back, the irony isn't lost on me. Behind that perfect white smile—which,by the way, was as fake as she was—lived a pissed off woman who always had anagenda, and it certainly wasn't to help others or make their lives better.

Grieving for her early loss of innocence, any power and control she had over herlife taken from her through rape, and feeling conflicted about what she thoughtlife should be versus what she'd experienced, she lived mired in self-pity froma very young age. One by one, those closest to her hurt her, walked away, ordied, and she turned to one addiction after another. She raged on this way foryears, visiting her grief on everyone who crossed her path—she was grieving itforward in a major way.

I watched helplessly as she purposefully committed hateful, hurtful acts onothers. It was as if releasing her fear and anger on another person would lessenher own pain. Instead, this cruelty merely compounded the feelings of guilt andshame she was trying so desperately to escape. I heard her blame everyone—includinga God, who she professed didn't exist—and everything in her life, asshe spiraled completely out of control and into the deep end of addiction,unable to get past denying her true feelings and anger.

I wanted to help, but the situation seemed hopeless. She would probably die likeshe'd lived—stuck in the early stages of grief. It would take a bigger personthan I to help her find the way out of this downward spiral. I'd seen what hadhappened to those people who tried to help her: they either got dragged downwith her, or she fought back so hard that they gave up for fear of going downwith the ship.

You might be wondering who this woman was, what happened to her, how did I knowher so intimately? She wasn't my mother, my sister, or a friend. Sadly, I mustadmit that she was me. During those years, it seemed like my life had split intwo: the watcher and the actor. The watcher dwelled in shock and denial whilethe actor lived in pure anger, with many addictions.

Addicts will understand the concept of watcher and actor. It begins with theinability to move through the process of grief, and ends with the product—abehavior used to cope with a problem by becoming the problem. That's when thesplit happens. A part of the addict stands helplessly by, stunned, shocked, evenappalled by his or her own actions, but fearful that to let go of the addictionwould bring on a flood of unbearable emotions. And they aren't necessarilywrong—except about the unbearable part.

If you had a 200-pound log to move, and someone offered to help you, wouldn't itjust make sense to let the person help you carry the burden?

If you had a 200-pound log to move, and someone offered to help you, wouldn't itjust make sense to let the person help you carry the burden? That is the pointof support groups, no matter whether you choose a church group, a grief group,or an addiction recovery program like the one I joined. The point is to makeyour burden bearable by allowing others to help you carry the load.

When I became tired of hopelessly standing by as the actor part of me raged on,committing unthinkable acts against myself and others, I sought out a 12-stepmeeting for alcoholics. I discovered that others in the group had joined for thesame reasons. Some of them had actually succeeded in finding their way not onlyto recovery from addiction, but to a place of peace, even happiness. Desperationmay have driven me to the meeting, but curiosity kept me coming back. If it waspossible for them, maybe there was hope for me too.

During my early years in recovery, I figured out that the "watcher, actor"concept could work in my favor if I applied it in a different way. Have you everhad one of those dreams where you are hovering around at a distance, watchingyourself involved in some activity? It's like removing yourself from thesituation. As part of my recovery program, it was necessary for me to look backover my life—what had been done to me, how I'd reacted. Through that process, Icame face to face with the years of fear, anger, and grief that brought me to myaddictions.

How did it happen? I stepped back, hovered nearby, and imagined the scenes frommy life as if I were in a dream. Let me tell you, it was easier in my dreams! AsI sat down with pen and paper to write out my inventory, I allowed the memoriesto return. That old familiar rage, self-pity for all the great sorrow I'dexperienced, and fear of becoming overwhelmed grabbed my heart and twisted it.Bile began to rise. How in the world was I going to revisit the past without myold friend, whiskey, by my side?

It seemed like I'd left something out. Yes, I'd admitted my powerlessness overmy addictions. I'd acknowledged that the power of "we" (the support group) couldhelp me find some sanity in my otherwise insane thinking. But I hadn't yet beenwilling to open myself to the concept of a Higher Power. I was informed thatuntil I could do that, my clever idea of using the "watcher, actor" concept inmy recovery simply wouldn't work. Just as whiskey, drugs, and sex stood by methrough the bad times, I would need a presence to hold my hand, to give meassurance as...