Alcoholism is a disease. I’m not sure who was the first to say it or when that came about, but it is a statement very much accepted in the world of recovery. It seems lately there have been several mentions in the meetings I attend that link ACoAs with disease as well.
“A thinking disease”
Something I heard today is that our disease is a thinking disease. Because of how we were raised our minds were warped and our subsequent thoughts and actions mutated. It is so very true. My body may be physically in perfect shape, but this thinking disease shapes my world in a grotesque and solemn manner.
“It’s like diabetes.”
A newcomer asked the group whether or not this thinking disease can ever be cured. An old-timer took the question on. He likened how we are after being raised in an alcoholic or dysfunctional home to diabetes. There is no cure for diabetes. However if we take care of ourselves and seek appropriate medicines and help, we can live active, productive and healthy lives.
“Growing up with an alcoholic is like growing up with cancer.”
Be forewarned, I have a bone to pick with this comparison. Growing up with alcoholism is like growing up with a parent or both parents who always has/have cancer. Because of the nature of the disease often the focus will be on the inflicted. At certain points in your life you might have to explain why your parent looks different due to lack of hair. You may even have to take over the role of caretaker.
So there are similarities, but I feel still conflicted about this simile. There is no shame in having cancer. It’s not something you have to hide from your friends, or even your relatives. And while alcoholism is a disease, the choice to drink, at least initially, is a choice. Cancer is not a choice. Cancer was actually the best thing to happen to my relationship with my alcoholic mother.
She got breast cancer my junior year of high school. And for several months she had to undergo chemo and radiation therapy, and I loved it. Not because my mother was suffering, but because she could not drink on the drugs she was on. And back then she could make the choice not to mix alcohol and her drugs. So I got a sick, but sober mom for a whole summer. The best months I spent with her were those months. I felt bad I was so grateful my mother had cancer, but I couldn’t help but brush the guilt away as I enjoyed the love she had to give to me then. Then of course she got recovered from the cancer, and as soon as she could she started drinking again and things were back to "normal".
So for me, being an ACoA is similar to some diseases, but not all. Then I shrug my shoulders. What works for one may not work for all, but if it works for them, then that's all that matters.
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