To the Devil's Tune

by Barnard, Jo

  Annie smiled gently. “This exercise is not about anyone judging you, Martha, we are simply reviewing our own actions, to realise our own part in our difficult situations. If you honestly feel you have harmed no one along your journey of struggle, then that’s fine, although it is rather unusual. Do you think you may have possibly harmed yourself though, darling?”

  Martha shook her head and rose to her feet. “My son is the one who’s hurt me, not the other way around. This isn’t my fault. I’m a good mother and I came here looking for support, not to make myself feel worse!” She grabbed her coat and stormed towards the door, returning quickly for her boots which she’d forgotten, much to her annoyance.

  “And support is exactly what you will receive here, Martha. Support from people who understand your pain and who care about your recovery.”

  Wrestling with her boots, she pointed an angry finger at Shane the Mane. “How can someone like him possibly understand how I feel?”

  She turned on her heels and stormed out of the room, leaving an air of awkwardness behind her. Ok, granted, Shane did come across as a bit of a perv, but he didn’t deserve that.

  “Darlings, please don’t worry. This is all part of recovery. We are all bound to have our wobbles over the coming weeks and months, and Martha, bless her heart, is just having one of hers now.

  “But like everything that happens, this too shall pass. We must understand and continue to remember that fact. Martha’s comments were made, and they are now a thing of the past. Let’s send her the love that she so needs at the moment to help her through her struggles.

  “Shane, darling, please try not to take that personally. Martha is really annoyed with herself, not you. You were just unfortunately picked to be her target. But just because she’s thrown her frustration at you, it doesn’t mean you have to catch it. We always have a choice you see.”

  Shane’s jaw slowly began to close, and I think he felt comforted by the rest of our supportive smiles of empathy.

  “So let’s take a look together now at Step Eight: We make a list of all persons we have harmed, and become willing to make amends to them all.

  “Now, darlings, this step really does take courage. The aim is not to punish ourselves, but rather to set ourselves free from any feelings of guilt and fear that we may be carrying. When we release these fears, then healing can begin, and this is a truly wonderful thing.

  “Actually, it is highly likely that we have harmed ourselves more than anyone else along the way, so let’s all put our own names at the top of our list.

  “Now, you may feel you need lots more time to finish writing your list, so please don’t feel pressured to get it all done tonight. This list is for you, not me or anyone else, but believe me, it’s an important thing to do.

  “And it’s also important to keep referring to your list and adding to it whenever you need to. We must keep on returning to our twelve-step programme as it is the thing that will restore us to sanity.

  “So now I’m going to ask something even bigger of you. Step Nine: We make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when doing so would injure them or others.

  “How do we feel about this one, darlings?”

  Crikey! This one certainly got me thinking, and I felt some need for guidance. “My question, Annie, is that if I have realised my part in hurting another, but they have hurt me a hundred times more, should I still try to make amends?”

  Annie nodded. “Aha, yes! An excellent question, Jude. ‘I may have hurt them, but they hurt me more, so surely they should apologise first, right?’ This attitude actually leads us into co-dependency. We become dependant on the other person putting their behaviour right so that we don’t have to. Believe me, darling, this way of looking at things is very disempowering, and this is exactly what our lovely Martha is experiencing at the moment.

  “Now let’s not forget that we feel angry with someone for a reason, and we must acknowledge, honour, and experience these feelings fully. But we must also find a way to let them go, and this can be very difficult indeed. Perhaps if we let them go, we will get hurt again.

  “But there are two things we can do here. Firstly we can set new boundaries to protect ourselves in the future, and secondly we can make amends for our own part by looking to, and changing, our own behaviour.”

  Shane raised his hand. “So, does making amends mean saying sorry? I mean, I’m ashamed to say that this won’t be physically possible for me, as I wouldn’t know where to find them all.”

  Annie chuckled kindly. “Sometimes yes, darling, but not necessarily. And this is where we must trust our own intuition, or higher power, to guide us into doing what feels right. Above all, we need to let go of any defensive feelings of anger or guilt, and replace them instead with the healing energy that is love. If you’re not able to say sorry to the person you’ve harmed, then perhaps you could write a letter of apology for example, and then burn it when you’ve finished. This way, you have admitted your fault, apologised to it, and then let it go. How does that sound?”

  “That makes sense, Annie. I’ll definitely give that some thought.”

  As I travelled home that evening, Meeta popped into my mind. She had been such a wonderful friend to me, and given me so much love, and yet I had left her in an instant too, without even a call or an explanation, and I had never really considered how hurtful that must’ve been.

  And dear old Gulab too. She had invested so much time in me; teaching me her cooking skills and looking forward to my visits, and yet I had disappeared from her life in a flash also.

  I knew they would have understood my situation and supported me one hundred percent in my efforts to be with my dad, but that wasn’t the point. I had never taken the time to explain, or even offer a forwarding address, and that was unacceptable. I added them to my list.

  So that’s where I would begin. I would write to Meeta and Gulab with an apology, and to find out how they both were. They may have wished to support me in my hour of need, and I was so busy wallowing in my sad state of aloneness, that I hadn’t even given them the opportunity.

  I felt sure that this was the right thing to do, and so with an open heart that felt full of love, I began to write to these beautiful souls, apologising for my elusiveness, and telling them how much they meant to me. I also vowed that as soon as I had some money and got all of my finances in order, I would either return to Punjab for a visit, or invite them to stay with me, whichever they preferred.

  Knowing I might be able to do some good and share some love with Dad’s hard-earned money felt amazing, and as I sealed the envelopes, a feeling of freedom washed over me, as if the chains were beginning to slacken.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the weeks that passed, it was difficult to watch Saffie struggle, and although I had hope in my heart that I might soon be able to help her, I wasn’t sure exactly when or how to, and so I chose to just listen for now, and to offer her hugs. I somehow knew that when the time was right, I would be shown what to do, but the last thing I wanted meantime was to give her false hope.

  The recovery programme was certainly helping me to think more about the consequences of my actions, and this, in turn, was allowing healthier boundaries to emerge.

  Our next session seemed like a bit of a milestone, which reflected the way I was feeling. It was good to see Mousey Martha back, but although her return had taken great courage, she did look incredibly embarrassed and even mousier than usual. It transpired that she had phoned Annie the following morning in a right old state. They’d consequently met up and talked things through. Thank Pure Love she had Annie, I thought. I wondered where on earth we would be without this awesome woman. She truly was a force like no other.

  “Well, darlings. We are all making wonderful progress and I’d like to take this opportunity to commend you for your commitment – to the programme, to each other, and most importantly, to yourselves. It’s a privilege to be part of your journey, it really is.

  “
Now then, when we have taken on board and worked through the first nine steps, and continue to be mindful of steps one to nine, we can begin to maintain these ways of helping ourselves with the last three steps.

  “Let me be very clear about it; we can’t all be ready for this at the same time, but let’s begin to discuss them anyway, so we all know what we’re aiming for.”

  She handed us all a sheet of paper to add to our collection. “Step Ten: We continue with our personal inventories and when we are wrong, we promptly admit to it.

  “Now then, let’s think back over the last week. Is anyone brave enough to confess to any wrongdoings that are leaving you feeling bad?”

  Shane reluctantly raised his hand. “Well I must admit to you all, I felt completely shit about myself after that inventory thing last week, especially after what Martha said to me.”

  Her chest and ears turning flame red, Martha sat forward in her chair. “I’m sorry for what I said to you, Shane. It was unforgiveable. I wrongly judged you and I sincerely apologise. It was most un-Christian of me.”

  Annie looked approvingly at Martha and turned her attention back to Shane who was slightly taken aback.

  “Well, ok. Thanks, Martha. Apology accepted, I guess.

  “Anyway, on my way home that night, and I feel embarrassed to admit this, but I went straight to the pub and had meaningless sex with a woman I’d never met. Don’t get me wrong, she was a willing participant and we both enjoyed the moment. But the reality is that I banged some lady’s brains out in a cold, dark corridor. Not exactly very loving of me was it?

  “Probably made her feel wanted and womanly for a few minutes, but afterwards, it just felt wrong. I felt guilty and ashamed that I’d allowed this urge to take over again, and really bad that I’d involved someone else in that too; some poor vulnerable woman who was unhappy like me. I felt like I’d gone back to square one again, and I feel really shit for letting all of you down too.”

  Annie nodded, not looking in the slightest bit shocked or embarrassed, but rather as if she’d heard it all before.

  “I see, darling. Well, thank you for your honesty, and I can tell you right now that you have certainly not returned to square one, as you are now fully aware of the consequences and you have openly admitted your wrongdoings. So the thing to do now is to return to the steps, and make your amends in whatever way you can.”

  Shane looked grateful for Annie’s advice.

  Martha interjected again. “I feel partly responsible for Shane’s downfall last week,” to which Annie replied, “Shane is responsible for Shane’s actions, Martha, and you are responsible for yours. So please do whatever you feel is right to not feel guilty, but rather to make amends.”

  It was heart-warming to watch Shane’s and Martha’s eyes meet in a reassuring look of positivity and humility. They had both been stripped to the core in accepting their shortcomings, and I had a funny feeling that this would be the start of a solid and beautiful friendship.

  Chapter Fourteen

  We all sat round in our familiar circle, having made ourselves a hot drink and helped ourselves to a piece of Mousey Martha’s lemon drizzle cake which she’d made the day before as a peace offering.

  It was pleasant enough but lacked the kind of zing that makes your lips purse. I wondered whether Martha’s cakes would become more fruity as she continued to let go of her issues, but then quickly felt mean for judging her kindness and generosity.

  Our drinks had been drunk and our cake eaten, but there was still a seat that remained empty. It was Annie’s.

  Feeling more at ease with each other by now, we chatted amongst ourselves, swapping stories on how we’d each come to meet Annie in unexpected circumstances, agreeing that she was probably an Earth Angel. Shane had met her in a long queue at the petrol station, Martha was approached by her at the local bakery, and Ray had met her by the cash machine where she found him in a panic. It was quite amazing really.

  Almost half an hour had passed when an unfamiliar face entered the room; a chap in his mid-to late-thirties, I guessed, with a friendly smile and a nice vibe about him. He removed his leather jacket and hung it over the back of Annie’s chair.

  “Hi, everyone, my name’s Guy and no, I’m not some random bloke gatecrashing your meeting! I’m blessed and honoured to say that Annie is a wonderful and very dear friend of mine. Sadly, our lovely Annie is in hospital at the moment having had a heart attack yesterday morning, but despite how sick and weak she’s feeling, it was so important to her that this meeting went ahead, and she’s asked that I come along and share my story with you, so I hope you don’t mind. Please feel free to chip in and ask questions at any point.”

  Several surprised gasps filled the room; shocked at the thought of Annie, our strong leader, being far too ill to attend.

  Guy had sparkly brown eyes and he looked confident and together. I was intrigued to hear what he’d been through. With several keen pairs of ears seeming ready to listen, he sat down in a relaxed position and started to speak.

  “I’m very pleased to say that today, life is good. But it hasn’t always been this way. For many years, an addiction to alcohol stripped away everything I had, and harmed the lives of many people around me.”

  “Goodness gracious,” Martha interjected. “Forgive me for saying, but you really don’t look like someone who’s had a drink problem.”

  Guy smiled tenderly. “I think many people’s perception of an alcoholic is some kind of drop out. But in actual fact, it’s very often people who are incredibly successful and intelligent who have problems with addictions.”

  Martha raised her chin and sat back in her seat, nodding for Guy to continue.

  “From a young age, I remember feeling very different from other people; very insecure and inferior. I sometimes wonder if I was even born an alcoholic; who knows.

  “My childhood was challenging. I watched my dad batter my mum who I loved dearly, and also abuse my sisters. And strangely, despite all this, I actually craved his love and attention, feeling somehow left out.

  “There was a big hole in my soul for many years, and around the time I started working and earning money, alcohol became a close friend to me. It filled a big void and it soothed my sadness. For the first time ever, I went from feeling like a shrivelled up little mouse, to a courageous lion. I loved drink, and drink loved me. It was an intense love affair and nothing else could come close.

  “I moved to Australia a few years later and being a bit of a clown when under the influence, I soon became known locally as the Beach Boozer. It wasn’t long before the blackouts started and I began to lose days at a time; a result which quickly turned into my main aim.

  “My ego became huge and I quickly transformed into a selfish, self-seeking, self-pitying nightmare. ‘Poor-me’ was my motto. I lost all of my dignity, and for many years, I treated everyone around me like pieces of crap.

  “All of my relationships with women followed the same repetitive cycle; good for a few months, and then as soon as they got too close and started to interfere with my drinking, then Heaven help them; they all got kicked into touch. Either that, or I’d just go missing for days on end. Women and relationships simply couldn’t match the way that booze made me feel.

  “I remember one girlfriend of mine announced she was going away on holiday with her folks, and asked me to pop in and feed their cat whilst they were gone. I agreed, seeing this as an ideal opportunity to go on a complete bender. I cleared out their drinks cabinet for them, didn’t feed the cat – not even once, and her parents returned to find me blacked out in their bed. Needless to say, I had to face the wrath of her dad! But I didn’t have a problem; it was everyone else.”

  I couldn’t resist. I had to ask, “So, what happened to the cat? Did it die?”

  Guy chuckled. “Fortunately not. It must’ve had plenty of lives left I reckon. The cat was fine.One less thing on my conscience at least!” I smiled, feeling glad to have my question resolved, and allowed Guy to con
tinue.

  “Anyway, things got dark, and one night in Sydney, I phoned my mum to tell her that within the hour, her son would be dead, and having delivered this message, I promptly hung up. The poor woman was on the other side of the world and completely helpless. I took a cocktail of alcohol and tablets and was later found by my girlfriend at the time who got me rushed into A&E. That’s how completely selfish I was. But I still couldn’t see that I had a problem; it was still everyone else’s fault.

  “So did it get better, I hear you ask? No, no, it got much worse.

  “I decided to take myself on an adventure to Asia for two months. It was going to be great. My first stop was Bangkok. In fact, this turned out to be the only stop. I spent the whole two months in my hotel bedroom, practically chained to the bed, accompanied by my best friend, booze, ordering it all from room service until they refused to serve me any more. By this time, I was in such a state, a quivering wreck in my bed, and too much of a mess to go out, that I resorted to eating cigarette butts off the floor. But I still didn’t think it was a problem.

  “After my so called ‘adventure’, I flew back home to live with my mum in the UK who hadn’t heard from me in months and had thought me probably dead. I didn’t care about any of this trivial shit; my only focus was to get smashed and black out.

  “I started freelancing in London, working sober during the week, and looking forward to the weekends when I could booze continuously. It wasn’t long before I’d get up for work on a Monday morning, and before I stepped on the tube, a little voice would say to me, ‘Don’t go in today, Guy. Take the day off. Have a drink, you deserve it.’ So I’d pop to the off-license, skip work, and drink in bed all day instead. And because my work was so good when I was at work, I got away with this behaviour for quite some time.

  “It was at a mate’s stag weekend, when I threw myself into a three-foot swimming pool, behaving like the clown as usual, that one of my friends called me an alcoholic. I went ballistic at him. What a load of rubbish. What the hell did he know? Arsehole.”