
My little sister and I were commiserating on the phone last week about our shared propensity for people-pleasing. Well, actually, she was telling me how much she admires my ability to set boundaries around my time, space and energy. And listening to her, I was realizing how far I’ve come in recovery.
“Sometimes, I’m sitting in a meeting that’s running overtime, and I’ve had to pee for an hour, but I’m too scared to just leave because that’s seen as rude,” my sister said. “And then I think, ‘Jen would have been gone 20 minutes ago…’”
Damn straight, sis! We haven’t lived in the same state since the spring of 2000, when she was 12, but my rep in the family as an anxious-avoidant introvert whose signature move is the “Irish goodbye” has been firmly established over the past 20+ years. I was a black sheep long before I admitted to being an alcoholic.
“Growing up” for me has been a tug of war between a little kid who craves others’ approval and an adult woman giving herself permission to do what she’s gotta do. Being stone-cold sober in a booze-soaked world for nearly four full years has forced me to make peace with making waves.
Continue reading “Alienation”







