Valentine's Day seems a good opportunity to tell my relationship saga. It has been a long journey from the frenzied hook-ups of early recovery to a strong and stable marriage. The Big Book says that resentment is our number one offender. Maybe for you, but for me, it’s that other “R” - romantic relationships. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years looking for love in all the wrong places, and had more or less decided that I wasn’t capable of a healthy, lasting relationship, so should probably just give up. Part of me took my longing for partnership as a weakness, that it wasn’t ok to want.

What I know, from years of recovery work, is that I kept going after people who were like my dad - good looking, funny, and emotionally unavailable (to me, at least). I’ve done a LOT of work around the family dynamics and the decisions I made as a little kid about the world - my belief that if I was cute enough or funny enough, my dad would be ok. It worked, sometimes. It took decades of recovery before I made the connection that my father was grieving (along with having serious depression and alcoholism) - his mother died when I was 5 years old. It was a traumatic death from lung cancer that was incredibly painful for the people she left behind, but what I must’ve figured at the time was that daddy was ok and then he wasn’t, so it must’ve been my fault.

Years of therapy and dozens of inventories led to a place of understanding why I did what I did, why I seemed to keep chasing relationships that weren’t meant to be. I could cite, chapter and verse, the family dysfunction that fed my dysfunction, but it was getting old. Finally, after one more break up, a friend said to me, “Jeanine, if there is such a thing as heaven and your dad is watching over you, don’t you think he wants you to be happy, joyous and free?” Boom. With that simple comment, I realized I’d been blaming my dad for my relationship choices, and the poor man had been dead for 20+ years. He wasn’t the one picking up the phone.

And then I heard something in a meeting that absolutely floored me. A woman essentially shared my relationship story, and how she’d gotten to a point of surrender where she decided to let God choose next time. I nearly fell off the couch. Let GOD choose? Really? No telling who I’d end up with! When I caught my breath, I realized that this was the one area I’d hung on to with both fists. I’d gladly turned over my alcoholism, work, finances, etc, etc, but relationships were mine, thank you very much. I’d never thought I was like the person in Step 7 in the 12x12 who says, “no, never!” to a particular defect of character, but here I was, hanging on to the illusion of control for dear life.

So I proceeded to work at surrender. I decide to let God choose next time, which meant that I was uncharacteristically single for over a year. I made a collage on the topic and hung it in my bathroom to remind me, daily, that I was no longer running the show. I also started using the set aside prayer - “HP, help me to set aside everything I think I know about myself and romantic relationships so that I can have a new experience.” (you can use this for any challenge - money, work, fear, etc). And then I did my best to sit still, and to pay attention. If I was destined to be attracted to people who were like my dad, I started praying that, next time, I’d be attracted to his healthy bits. My dad wasn’t just a depressed alcoholic with a good sense of humor. He was smart, and a hard worker, loyal, and fair. I made a list of qualities I’d want in a partnership, and at the top was “likes me back” after spending too many years trying to convince this or that person that I was right for them.

A couple of people crossed my path at that time, each a learning experience. I kept struggling against my internal demons that wanted to control, chase, hurry the process of healing. And then one day, after yet another breakup, I found myself sitting on my couch, crying. I realized that this breakup really had nothing to do with me. Out of the blue (I say “out of the blue” but it was actually out of years of emotional work) came the understanding that my father’s alcoholism and depression had nothing to do with me either. It was if a bolt of lightning, or maybe a ray of sunshine, came in through the window and straight to my heart, and I found myself sobbing for the little girl who thought that it was her fault that daddy was sick. What I’d known intellectually for years, made that long journey from my head to my heart. Boom.

And so, I continued to live my life. I had a surprise call from an ex that I hadn’t talked with in nearly a decade that helped me finally shut the door on my lingering regret. I left a job I’d had for 5 years. I traveled with friends. I wrote a letter to God, saying that if HP thought I was ready for a relationship, then bring it to me because I was tired of looking. I had a good life, good friends, and if this was it, I was ok. And wouldn’t you know it, within weeks of writing that letter I noticed a guy in a meeting. He was handsome, and sounded nice, but he didn’t fit my template. For one thing, he was an extrovert (with a capital "E"). No bells and whistles, so I didn’t pay him much mind. We talked, at length, at a potluck a few weeks later, and I invited him to come out to hear music with some friends. Funny enough, when the evening came, he was the only one who showed. We talked for hours. He walked me home, and then left (new behavior!). He called the next day, and the day after that we went to a meeting together. A year later, he moved in, and 6 months after that, he got on one knee and proposed.

The hardest part of the whole deal was learning to wait and see. Early in the relationship, something came up and I thought, “OK Jeanine, here’s your out.” But a little voice said, “Just hold still. It’s ok not to know. Let’s see what happens next.”

Earlier in recovery, I used to bemoan the fact that I didn't have any examples of long term, healthy relationships. My standard was pretty high, based on what I'd seen on TV and was reading about in recovery literature - soul mates, like in a pop song. What I didn't realize, in the depths of my painful childhood recovery work, is that there were examples of long term relationships in my own home. My parents were married for 33 years before Dad died, and Mom and my Step-pop were together for 32 years before she died. If that isn't long term, I don't know what is. Mom and Dad raised 2 kids, weathered the storm of his alcoholism and sobriety, his cancer, and all the ups and downs of life. Mom and Jer traveled the world together, embraced both their families, and he was there for her every minute when she got sick. If that isn't strong and committed, I don't know what is.

None of this recovery business is magic. It takes internal, sometimes painful, emotional work to heal from past hurts, real and imagined, whether related to romantic relationships or otherwise. For me, letting God choose has been a revelation and a gift. I can say I wish I'd learned that lesson sooner, but then I wouldn't be where I am today, which is right where I want to be. 

So, happy Valentine's Day to you, wherever you are on the path.  What is something nice you can do today to show love for yourself, and for those around you?