Parenting Off The Grid

Love & Limits–A Lifelong Lesson

09 Jun 2010 2 Comments

by Martha James Hartney in Family Dynamics, Living In Community Tags: Addiction, Agreements, Alcoholism, Intentional community, Living In Community, parenting

There’s a fine line between giving someone their space to deal with their own stuff and enabling. When does being supportive become giving someone license to hurt you? And what do you do when someone else’s addiction comes very near to destroying the life you’ve built?

We had a lesson in that recently. One of our tribe reminded us of the need to be watchful of addiction and keeping our eyes open when it comes to pain and suffering. A couple weeks ago, Todd got a DUI.

I’ve known Todd for 10 years. He’s still friends with my ex-husband—one of the few people who can easily flow between us. When I met him, Todd was clean and sober. He went to AA meetings and sponsored other men through the 12 Steps. He struck me as a guy who’d made it through, all the way. But, hah! That’s not how alcoholism works. You never actually stop recovering. You’re always and forever “in recovery” because one must always be vigilant for that single drink, the drop that takes you back over the edge into the abyss.

When his marriage broke up, shortly before my own, he started to lose his grip on sobriety. His wife, my dear friend Alexis, started over and left Todd to deal with the pieces of his own life. Within weeks, he had that first drink. Off he went into his dark place.

Because one of his greatest qualities is his ability to see himself clearly, he gave up custody of his kids knowing alcohol had regained its grip on him.

Over the years, Todd and Alexis found a way to be friends again, to their credit, looking past both their issues to the best interests of their kids. Now Todd lives with Alexis in her home and is involved again with his kids.

They found a delicate balance. Todd spends time with his kids when he’s sober, but he still drinks. Alexis is aware of it. We all are. She has the authority to restrict his time with the kids if he’s drunk. But she hadn’t had to exercise that authority because he kept his problems away from the kids. So we all sort of glossed over the obvious, willing to let things remain unsaid, so long as his drinking did not impact the kids or us.

Then Alexis went on a weeklong business trip. Todd and his sister (who is currently the kids’ nanny) had responsibility for their kids. He started out in high spirits. Happy-go-lucky Todd. Then his mood slipped a little each day until, by Thursday, he was getting tense and short—followed quickly by apologies. By the weekend, apparently, he’d had enough and took off, leaving the kids with his sister.

He took off, though, in my car. My car, titled in my name, on loan to Alexis and insured by me. I had seen Todd drive the car twice before, during the day with the kids in it. At that time, I knew he’d had a DUI but he assured me he no longer drove while drinking. So I let it go. I didn’t say anything to Alexis about letting him use the car nor about letting anyone else use it. I trusted that she had my interests at heart and had a reasonable hand on it. Neither of us thought Todd would actually take a car that wasn’t his while drinking. But this time, she wasn’t here to stop him and I had no idea he’d taken it.

He was pulled over after the police received multiple calls about a car weaving over a 10-mile stretch. He spent the rest of the weekend in jail, sprung on Monday by my ex-husband who wasted no time in cackling jauntily at my oversight. Another call abruptly ended.

Oh, the dreaded conversation. How do I express myself to my loved ones, set a limit that I’m comfortable with, and maintain the connection we have together? This is the struggle any family has when a family member suffers from an addiction.

Lovingly setting limits.

Telling Alexis that I didn’t want Todd driving a car that I had entrusted to her—that I hoped she would buy so I no longer bear the responsibility—brought back some of my deepest fears. Learning to set a limit with love and respect was not a skill I learned at home.

Fortunately, no one was killed. But imagine if someone had been. What would have happened? How would I sleep at night? I would have been complicit in harm caused to another person. After my friend Frank’s tragedy, I could not live with that.

As the insured party and titleholder, I could have been legally liable for Todd’s negligence. Alexis could have been liable as well. It could have cost me, and her, everything we’ve each built so far. Which raises the question of how we should all protect our personal assets for the rainy day that could happen in anyone’s life, but that’s another post.

I had to own my distrust of the status quo and acknowledge that I was angry with myself for not having foreseen a possibility that now looks obvious. Then, I had to speak from the heart, from my core, without judgment or blame, and release the outcome. If Alexis were angry, so be it. If she were going to take it personally, so be it. As long as I stay in the truth of myself, knowing I am not perfect and am participating in this play we call our lives, I have to surrender attachment to how it turns out. I had to find clarity within about what I want. As it turned out, I do not want anyone else but Alexis driving my car. End of story.

I could have spoken up earlier when I saw him drive it. I could have made this part of a written agreement with Alexis when I loaned it to her. I could have said no one should drive it but her. But I didn’t.

I’m blessed that my friends share the same values, commitment to growth, intimacy, and partnership that I do and are open to hear my fears, acknowledge an error on both our parts, and make it right without feeling attacked. So when we talked about it, coming from an awareness of our own fears, we were able to resolve the feelings about Todd’s mistake and stay connected. To each other and to him, though not for a moment tolerating his behavior.

I love Todd. He’s my friend. And I hope he finds his way through. Just not in my car.