Peace on Earth

I am a pacifist, at heart. I come from a line of women who dislike conflict, are used to holding their tongues to avoid it, and consider mealtime a success only if no one disagrees. Unrealistic? Yes. Something to aspire to? No. In fact, my apologies in advance to my daughter…

Try as I may, I can not unearth this trait from my personality. It’s why writers’ workshops in college were so uncomfortable. I am better now at speaking my mind when given the opportunity. But conflict, disagreements, and arguments still make me extremely uncomfortable. Especially among family.

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time you know that I have a blended family. I remarried 11 years ago and my boys were still young. My husband and I have a daughter together, and he is step-dad to my sons. So though we’ve been “blended” for a long time, anyone in this situation knows that you can combine ingredients together, but sometimes they just don’t blend, and mixing is all you can reasonably expect.

My views on what my family should look like have evolved over the years. When I was drinking, and the boys were younger and required more “hands-on” care, things were difficult. Part of this stemmed from the fact that my husband and the boys’ dad could not be more different. Rules and the enforcement of them come first in our house, whereas my ex-husband doesn’t abide by rules himself, so his biggest expectation is having fun.

With shared custody, this requires an adjustment of behavior from house to house. When children are young, this is an unrealistic expectation and there are bound to be slip-ups and bumps in the road. When you throw in a parent who drinks to stuff down feelings and avoid conflict, you have a recipe for disaster.

Trying to make my “blended family” conform to my ideas of what a family should look like was stressful, which made me turn to my wine. When my boys argued or behaved badly toward my husband, I immediately tried to jump in and keep the peace. Defending my kids, angering my husband, and turning toward my ever-present coping mechanism to get through it all.

Looking back, I can see how drinking to avoid conflict in fact caused a lot of conflict. I was often stubborn, irrational and emotional. Instead of extinguishing my anger, my anxiety, my insecurities, wine was the accelerant. This is what happens when you choose wine over water.

About six months before I quit, a miraculous thing happened. My ex-husband got clean from a heroin addiction and I had a front row seat. The emergency custody order that involved CPS, trips to court and papers served. The shame and fear on my sons’ face as they sat through supervised visitation. The huge question that hung in the air like a lead balloon that no one was brave enough to ask:

Will he stay clean?

I am gratefully able to report he has, and that the experience held up a mirror for me to look at my own drinking habits and realize I was no better. This humbled me greatly. And that’s when I started my journey home to myself. I released my expectations of what family should look like. After all, who were we? So far from normal…but at the same time, accepting that different is okay.

Do we still disagree and have conflicts? Yes. But now I am able to be a peacemaker when and where I can, and let differences be okay when I can’t. We’ve spent a lot of time together over the holidays and have even driven one another crazy, from time to time. But we’ve also grown closer and have memories to share of the Christmas that was just the five of us.

I will always crave peace and be uncomfortable in conflict. The difference is, now that I’m sober, I don’t add to the conflict with my irrational thoughts and behavior. Instead of adding fuel to any fires that pop up, I help extinguish them with a clear head, a light-hearted presence and a grateful heart. We all genuinely get along better. I see now that peace can still exist in imperfection, just as acceptance can be found in differences.

And if all else fails and we are imperfect, as we often are, that’s okay too.