Twelve Step Program

One. My uncle is a drug addict. Two. As I grew older, I learned that keeping everything and anything I received, was a mechanism I adopted for control. Control over things, I would keep in my life, so they won't leave. His addiction, my anxiety, his drug, my insecurities. Three. My level of fear grew when the people I held so close to me died. The more people who died, the more stuff I kept. I felt weak, and found it hard to trust or get close to people, knowing that ultimately, they would leave just like the others. They say only the strongest survive. I wasn’t strong, but I was sure my uncle was. I knew that I could get him over his addiction and bring him back to the loving uncle and father I knew him to be. I was sure I could mend the broken relationship he had with his son. Four. I was wrong for even believing that I could change someone’s actions, behaviors, relationships, thoughts, beliefs or addictions. I felt like my world had crashed down into a million and one tiny pieces. I always pointed my finger to other peoples' problems and the circumstances of the world and how they can be fixed. In reality I never noticed the three fingers pointing back at me. I was "Captain save-a-problem." You had a problem, I would fix it. Meanwhile, my problems were just a mirror of their pain. I needed to be saved; I just didn’t know it yet. Five. I was a result of a family member dealing with someone with an addiction. I was a hoarder. I would keep everything that was given to me. I wasn’t like the hoarders you see on either television or the ones in psychology books. If you looked at me you wouldn’t be able to tell I had an issue behind my smile. If I'd receive a homework assignment, I’d keep it, notebooks from the second grade I kept, clothes or shoes I could no longer fit I would keep. Everything I kept was a symptom of my problem. I was lost in Christmas presents, birthday gifts, homework and imperfections. I would say I would start over, but I never had the courage to start over. Six. My uncle signed up for the twelve week program, that would help him do a way better job than I did. I will not go to a 12 step program, I wasn’t the addict, nor did I want to know the meaning of a narcotic anonymous group. I was not the one with the problem. I had a battle of my own that I still had to deal with. I was a 15 year-old in my own 12 step program. Seven. Pre-Contemplations, contemplation, preparation, action, maintence. The process. The courage I had to change and stop thinking about changing and actually changing. I freed myself from thinking that everything and everyone could change. I can breathe finally and let go of the things I thought I could control. Eight.  As I looked at myself in the mirror, I was finally okay with the person I am and the person I am going to be. I decided to tell myself something positive each day. I was no longer afraid of losing people and began to trust again. Instead of fearing that they would leave, I cherished each moment, I had with them. I let go of all of the stuff, I hid all the problems I never told. Nine. My uncle was clean for a year. He finally went back to being the person who would write my poems when I was younger, the one who my mom was the closest with, the one who would make me laugh, who taught me how to ride a bike and say “NO” to strangers, the one who told me I was perfect just the way I was and treated me like a little princess and took my dad’s place when he was arrested. He was trying so hard to get his life back together and mend the broken pieces. He relapsed. I admitted I was powerless over his drugs and his addiction. I started to realize that it was no longer about him, but it was about me. I didn’t want to lose who I was in other peoples' mistakes and inadequacies. I learned from them and built myself on them. Ten. My most prized possession, which I should’ve been holding on to from the beginning instead of useless stuff, was my family. My inspired motivation came from my uncle’s indisposition. It taught me not to look at how I can change people, but to accept them for who they are. Eleven. My uncle died. After 17 years of always feeling different, that I would never be good enough, that my struggle will no longer be an option. That I could achieve my goal. All of the things that were positive in me. Failure is no longer an option. That I could achieve my goal. All of the things that were positive in me and all the things that were negative in me made me, me. Twelve.  I am finally able to breathe. I am finally able to know who I am and what my main focus in life is. In light of my uncle's death he has taught me things I would have never been able to teach myself. My experience, my struggle, my circumstances shaped me into who I am today. His addiction taught me that in life, that it doesn’t matter where you've been, it's where you’re going.

                   

 by Nija Howard