I am not authoring this book to claim victimhood or to downgrade Ann. But I want to write this chapter about what happened to me, to express my personal growth toward independence. I now consider Ann as one of my teachers. I feel that God had designed her in my life to provide for my well-being throughout my recovery, and also to give me the drive for independence that otherwise I might not have attained on my own.
I have come to understand her fears, especially since I knew about her dysfunctional upbringing. And also, our fears together, as we were both experiencing this drastic change for the first time. But I need to explain the results of my growth from our relationship, as it was dysfunctional. I learned that one of the traits of a co-dependent person is my perception of what I wanted her to be instead of who she may be.
I will never forget the overpowering attraction to her when I first saw her physically, with the alcohol inside of me magnifying my “so-called” feelings for her. The drive was on, and we ended up together, unhealthy as it was. I know what it is like to be self-conscious, as this was my way of life throughout my childhood and well into my life in recovery. At the time, I had no idea what self-conscious meant, but it seemed that fear had a powerful grip on my life.
I know that Ann did the best she could with what she had, and what she was going through with my disability. I am grateful for all that she had given of herself in our many years, and especially in raising our children. But it was time to face reality about our fears and how they dictated our lives, individually and as a family.
In late spring, on a beautiful sunny day, I did not know where Ann was. Looking for her, I finally found her outside, sitting on a blanket in the grass. I said to her, “What’s going on?” She was silent, and it was obvious that something was wrong. Again, I said, “Ann, what’s going on?” She finally spoke and said, “I should have listened to my mother.”
I said, “Listened to your mother about what?” She said, “I never should have married a blind man.” I could tell that she had her head down in very deep sadness. I was shocked and in a state of true powerlessness. There was nothing I could say.
I just had to walk back to the house in sadness and in a state of true powerlessness. Ann, apparently in deep self-pity, realized that she was stuck, married to a blind man for the rest of her life. This was a new change to our relationship. I saw that this placed her in a bondage situation and made her bitter and resentful.
Within my fear, as I knew it, I realized that there had to be a change; therefore, I became the world’s greatest people pleaser. I felt that I had no choice, with my dependence on her. In reacting to my fear, I went into full “co-dependent mode.” Trying to please her with every word I said and every action I took was a very daunting task.
I came to realize that, in her state of mind, there was nothing I could do or say to please her. She became incredibly angry and very resentful toward me, so on a very regular basis, she would take the kids and leave for the day. This is when I spent a lot of time alone, and it was a very lonely part of my life.
My siblings and other family members felt uncomfortable coming over to visit me, as they did not want to make waves with Ann. Therefore, I rarely saw them. I realized that this was the first stage of failure of my marriage with Ann. I had to learn a very tough lesson: I cannot change anybody but myself.
I now realize that God had placed her into my life to be one of my many teachers, uncomfortable as it seemed at the time. I had to start working on myself, and I had to learn that I knew what I did not want in life.
We experienced a pinnacle of self-conscious control with another event. I found out that the group “Three Dog Night” was performing a free concert at the Lilac Festival in the city. I approached Ann about taking me, and she reluctantly said yes. I was very excited because it gave me a glimmer of hope that my life wasn’t over due to my blindness.
The day of the concert came, and we were getting ready to go. Ann went to get the babysitter and brought her home to watch Cory and Evan. She gave instructions, and we walked out to the car. We both got in and shut the doors. Ann started the car, but we just sat there.
I finally said, “What’s going on?” She then turned the car off. I said, “What are you doing?” She said, “I just can’t do it.” I said, “You can’t do what?” She said, “I just can’t be seen in public with a blind man.”
We both walked back into the house, as I felt total defeat. This was another one of those events that describes the phrase “incomprehensible demoralization.”
I was taught the Serenity Prayer in AA, and I truly believe that experience is the best teacher when I had no choice but to use it:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
Courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know it’s me.
After this event, I knew that trying to save this relationship was over. I had to start being honest with myself and acknowledge my fears to change my life. Faith is the opposite of fear.
This prompted my drive to become as independent as possible. I began learning computers, screen readers, and connecting with others. AA meetings gave me friendship, fellowship, and acceptance.
As I gained independence, our relationship deteriorated further. Eventually, the truth came out when Ann said: “This marriage wasn’t based on love; it was based on alcoholism.”
It was time to face reality. I learned about the four-fold nature of independence: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Recovery, I learned, works in reverse: spiritually, emotionally, mentally, then physically.
The twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous helped transform my life. Breaking free from the bondage of fear was liberating.