Crossing the bridge, and letting go...

I have been very depressed over the last week. This time, it's not just brain chemistry. There's a legitimate reason in my life right now. I'm not at liberty to go into details, but suffice it to say, someone I know and care about is suffering from addiction and depression. 

I've done the best I can to support her, but I can only do so much. I know that I have to, as Alcoholics Anonymous says, "Let Go, Let God"; but that's easier said than done! The need to control outcomes is a difficult thing to...control!

I'd like to share an excerpt from a book of daily meditations from which I'm trying to draw inspiration from now: The Language of Letting Go, by Melody Beattie.* {A book I highly recommend for those in recovery of any kind, those who are co-dependent, and, well, everyone else!}

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Letting Go of Those Not in Recovery"  February 12

We can go forward with our life and recoveries, even though someone we love is not yet recovering. 

Picture a bridge. On one side of the bridge it is cold and dark. We stood there with others in the cold and darkness, doubled over in pain. Some of us developed an eating disorder to cope with the pain. Some drank; some used other drugs. Some of us lost control of our sexual behavior. Some of us obsessively focused on addicted people's pain to distract us from our own pain. Many of us did both: we developed an addictive behavior, and distracted ourselves by focusing on other addicted people. We did not know there was a bridge. We thought we were trapped on a cliff.

Then, some of us got lucky. Our eyes opened, by the Grace of God, because it was time. We saw the bridge. People told us what was on the other side: warmth, light, and healing from our pain. We could barely glimpse or imagine this, but we decided to start the trek across the bridge anyway.


We tried to convince the people around us on the cliff that there was a bridge to a better place, but they wouldn't listen. They couldn't see it; they couldn't believe. They were not ready for the journey. We decided to go alone, because we believed, and because people on the other side were cheering us onward. The closer we go to the other side, the more we could see, and feel, that what we had been promised was real. There was light, warmth, healing, and love. The other side was a better place.

But now there is a bridge between us and those on the other side. Sometimes, we may be tempted to go back  and drag them over with us, but it cannot be done. no one can be dragged or forced across the bridge. Each person must go at his or her own choice, when the time is right. Some will come; some will stay on the other side. The choice is not ours.

We can love them. We can wave to them. We can holler back and forth. We can cheer them on, as others have cheered and encouraged us. But we cannot make them come over with us. If our time has come to cross the bridge, or if we have already crossed and are standing in the light and warmth, we do not have to feel guilty. It is where we are meant to be. We do not have to go back to the dark cliff because another's time has not yet come.

The best thing we can do is stay in the light, because it reassures others that there is a better place. And if others ever do decide to cross the bridge, we will be there to cheer them on.

*Beattie, M. (1990). February. In The language of letting go (pp. 41-42). Center City, MN: Hazelden.