Bravery

One year ago yesterday I received a call that changed my life. My mother called me in the middle of the afternoon to say that she couldn't talk but that she wanted me to know she was driving my father to rehab. I didn't get any other details; all I knew was the thing that I had prayed for every day since I was old enough to understand what rehab is, was actually happening. Yet all I could feel when I heard those words was horrible sadness. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that my Dad was about to be dropped off at a rehab center, stripped of all his belongings and humiliated. I knew enough to know that this center was no Malibu Promises, where he would receive spa treatments as an incentive not to drink. This place was a different kind of "come to Jesus". All I could imagine was that it must feel like being booked into jail, for an unknown sentence. I felt overwhelmed with guilt for praying for this and an urge to protect him from pain (all those good emotions that are products of an alcoholic childhood) and I couldn't handle it. Mixed in with my pity for what he was about to endure was skepticism and the fear of becoming hopeful that this would work. What a roller coaster of emotions are attached to loving a substance-dependent person.
One year, one day, and a lot of pain and growth for everyone later, my dad is a year sober and we have never been so close. If you would have told me a year ago that I would have a family that I could trust, a family with a sober father, I would have been really hurt and offended by your optimism. To be honest, the fear that one sip of vodka could take all this away in an instant is constant, but I can't waste the happiness that he has given us by constantly wondering if this is the calm before the storm, or just a cruel taste of what life can be like when my dad is sober.
Although my fears are valid, and are unlikely to cease, I can't determine the future, and more importantly, I can't prevent him from drinking. To dwell on the fear of loss would also be a discredit to the amazing amount of work he has done and he is continuing to do. Instead, I would rather try to emulate his bravery. He woke up every day for three months, away from his family, work, all comforts and had to spend it facing the reality and magnitude of his disease. He admitted it to work, to friends, to the entire family, to anyone and everyone, without shame. To me, there is nothing more honorable than admitting you need help and actually finding and utilizing it. I have spent the better part of my life trying to make my father proud and now I am full of pride in him.
When I think about my family, bravery is what comes to mind. My sister is never afraid to stand up for what she thinks it right, keeps going for what she wants, and she has no qualms about herself. No matter how much I beg her to grow out her hair or joke about her refusal to learn how to apply eyeliner, she is steadfast in who she is, and I respect that about her. Knowing who you are and being proud of it is a special kind of bravery that few people have, and I am lucky to have an example of how to really be your own person.
It would take a whole day to write all the ways my mother is brave. If I think about it for too long I'll get misty eyed and it would be pretty embarrassing to start crying in physics class (that's right, I'm not paying attention...again). She has stood with my dad for over thirty years and has never stopped fighting for our family to survive. After raising two kids and giving all her energy and time to others, she was brave enough to find her passion in art, and started giving back to herself the attention she has given others for so long. She and I share the same fear of failing at our passions, having put ourselves out there and invested out hearts, but she never lets her fear conquer her. My mom is the person who taught me that the only way we can ever fail is by never trying.
Bravery has many forms, but when I reflect on what it means for my family, I think that it isn't about being fearless, but rather doing what is hard despite fear. I hope that I can live up to the example set by my family. Tonight, looking back on the year we've had and the blessings that have resulted from bravery, my cup runneth over, and I couldn't be more grateful.