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IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE
My Story
"Don't hold to anger, hurt or pain. They steal your energy
and keep you from love." -- Leo Buscaglia
I believe the best counselors are those who have needed
their own counseling at some point in their lives. It does
not matter how many degrees we have behind our names, it is
the degree and the temperature of the fire we’ve come
through in life that allows us to connect with other people.
An empathetic counselor not only hears our pain, but feels
it also.
As a result of my father’s infidelity and alcohol abuse, my
parents divorced when I was 8. When my dad left, I felt as
if my heart had been torn apart. I thought I could will my
parents back together. I prayed, I cried, I even tried to
set up romantic dates for them, but eventually every
emotional tie I shared with my father from the crib to the
playground had been torn. I did not see him leaving my mom.
I saw him leaving me.
To mask my pain, I built a wall of resentment. When he
missed my track meets, another layer of brick was added and,
when he remarried, the wall was fortified. Little did I know
the wall I built did not only shield me from my pain, it
prevented me from feeling anything. I felt no joy, no
excitement, just anger. Anger became my friend. It was there
to protect me, there to keep me safe.
In reality, I was far from safety. I had become imprisoned
within myself and, that’s when the war began—a war between
who I was and who I wanted to be.
I was full of self-pity and vengeance. I convinced myself
that the best way to take revenge on my father was to show
him I did not need him. I’d refuse weekend visits. I did not
need his help. I did not need his money. I did not need his
advice. Propelled by my resentment, I’d excel in school, go
to college, start a career, marry, buy a house, open a
business—all to spite him.
I found my anger very useful. It gave me a sense of power, a
sense of pride, but with pride came entitlement and, with
entitlement, the pursuit of pleasure and, once pleasure was
apprehended, it apprehended me.
I slowly entered a world of addiction. I was becoming what I
hated. I was becoming my father. Soon my anger evolved and
addiction became my primary caregiver—it became my daddy. I
was dependent and powerless. If I did not get some help, I
knew I was destined to end up just like my father.
The waters of anger and resentment are bitter refreshments.
To drink of them only brings a greater thirst. In the
forthcoming chapters of this book, you will hear the stories
of others who were choked by their own temperament. Some of
them found relief, and some continue to gasp for air.
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