Nothing left to give?
Every Sunday evening, I attended the Latter-day Saint Women’s Support Group and listened as the women gradually exposed their vulnerability and anguish due to addiction within their families. (Even though mental illness has lost much of its societal stigma, addiction is often still shrouded in secrecy and shame—particularly within our American Latter-day Saint culture.) The sisters’ individual stories were sad and distressing:
My son hates me.
I have nothing left to give.
I’m so tired of hurting.
I can’t fix it.
My husband won’t change.
I don’t know how to help my husband.
I can’t solve my children’s problems.
I feel so alone.
I feel like such a bad mother.
I’ve failed as a wife.
As a Latter-day Saint service missionary in California, I help to facilitate these group discussions. I had also shared with the sisters my own painful issues stemming from childhood. Although I come from faithful Latter-day Saint parents who both have pioneer lineages, a significant number of my ancestors suffered from alcoholism, addiction, and compulsion—which were unintentionally passed down from one generation to the next. Thus, part of my genetic make-up predisposes me to compulsive and addictive mindsets. Additionally, mental illnesses such as anxiety and depression are rooted in my family tree. My parents were stalwart leaders in our ward and stake and faithfully taught their children gospel principles—while stressing the importance of our family name, image, and our duty to set good examples. My parents also set perfectionistic standards of behavior. As a child, teenager, and young woman, I tried to be exactly obedient to my parents in attempts to earn their love and approval. I was also extremely careful never to “tarnish” my parents’ reputation or “damage” our family image. (Please don’t misunderstand me—I love my parents and appreciate everything they have taught me.)
On top of that, the LDS church (during my childhood, teen, and young adult years) placed great emphasis on the doctrine of perfection coupled with a perfectionistic church culture. The Young Women’s and Relief Society organizations often promoted the concept of the ideal Latter-day Saint girl and woman: She is flawless while raising passels of flawless children. She never complains, is never angry, and never speaks unkindly about anyone. Her stellar homemaking skills are used to serve others.
For me, these lofty LDS ideals and expectations came with enormous amounts of pressure, creating even more personal anxiety. I loved God, my parents, and the Church. I wanted to “be pleasing in God’s sight.” But these perfectionistic expectations from my parents and church—combined with my ancestral predispositions and mindsets—seeded and grew into noxious weeds of personal anxiety and self-doubt. I never felt good enough. And I would never be good enough. Furthermore, I didn’t just make mistakes; I was a mistake. Looking back, I’m surprised I never developed an eating disorder—and I thank God I never have. Still, I have spent my entire adult life working with the Spirit to find, examine, and root out my unhealthy mindsets. It’s painstaking, constant, and very, very hard work.
The Twelve Principles of the Latter-day Saint Women’s Support Group
- God will console us in our afflictions.
- Shake off the chains with which ye are bound.
- He will take upon Him the pains and the sicknesses of His people.
- Draw near unto me.
- Take heed unto thyself.
- Thy friends do stand by thee.
- In everything give thanks.
- Be firm and stand fast.
- We have renounced dishonesty.
- Lift up the hands which hang down.
- Bear all these things with patience.
- My peace I give unto you.
The manual also emphasizes that an essential part of healing is accepting and understanding that our loved ones—whether they be family members or friends—are responsible for their own healing or recovery from addiction, compulsion, and/or negative behaviors. We incorrectly assume that we have to fix their problems for them. Instead, we learn to choose a healthier behaviors instead of pleading, coercing, or controlling our loved ones. Once we’ve taken this important step, we can begin our own healing.
We receive what the scriptures call “beauty for ashes: when we realize that our pain, sorrow, worry, and anger can actually be healed. As we turn to the Savior, the peace and comfort He offers us can truly work miracles. Surely, it’s hard to feel grateful in the midst of our suffering and pain. Still, we can feel strength and gratitude as we familiarize ourselves with Christ’s atoning power. Eventually, we may look back and feel gratitude for our former pain and hardships.
The Giving Tree is a children’s book written in 1964 by Shel Silverstein. For years, this book represented the essence of pure love. During the 1980s, the book became more controversial in its illustration and definition of unconditional love. To briefly summarize, the book follows the lives of a female, motherly apple tree and her developing relationship with a small boy. The tree is always “giving” to the boy who evolves into a “taking” teenager, to a self-centered man, to an angry, bitter old man. In efforts to make the boy/man happy, the tree continually gives parts of herself—in the form of her apples, leaves, and branches—to boy throughout his life. The tree’s parts might symbolize material elements such as money (from her apples), a house (from the wood and shade of her branches), and a boat (from her trunk). The tree is always described as “happy” in her endless giving and attempts to make the boy/man happy. Even more, despite the boy/man’s ingratitude and endless demands, the tree is always “happy” in her giving. Years later, the boy has taken so much from the tree that she has been stripped down to a mere stump. In his selfishness, the old man disregards the tree’s weakness and inability to continue to provide for his demands. She offers her stump for him to sit and rest. In this final stage of “giving,” the book ends with the sentence, “The tree was happy.”
I had never read this story until I was a young mother reading it to my little son. At first glance, I believed the book to be a poignant illustration of unconditional Christlike love; the noble tree is willing to completely sacrifice herself for the boy and then the man. Indeed, the tree embodied that unattainable and flawless LDS woman persona who had haunted my youth—and now haunted my abilities as a mother. Although the tree’s concept of love raised some “red flags” for me, I dismissed my concerns as self-centered. Eventually and fortunately, I recognized the dysfunctional relationship between the tree and the boy/man. The tree’s inability to set loving boundaries enabled the boy/man’s compulsivity and narcissism.
Furthermore, the tree and the boy/man illustrate a co-dependent relationship. By the end of the story, the tree still insists she’s happy—even after being stripped of everything. The tree’s “martyrdom” does not exemplify a healthy love. I believe the tree is also self-serving; she is getting some sort of twisted pay-off in her complicity with the boy’s toxicity. The pay-off can be its own form of addiction or compulsion. Surely, the tree initially showed loving intentions toward the boy by helping him. As the story proceeds, however, the tree’s “love” is clearly fueling the boy’s self-centeredness. The end of the story reveals a terribly toxic, unhappy old man. “And the tree is happy.” Why would she be happy? Is she happy that her endless giving helped to create a narcissistic man?
Over the years, as I had more children (and I grew more emotionally healthy), I told them, “Don’t let anyone ever treat you this way. And never treat others like this.”
My biggest takeaway from The Giving Tree is this: The tree and the boy/man personify the resulting destructive relationship when one person is an addict (or alcoholic, narcissist, self-destructive, or fill in the blank) and the other person (a spouse, a friend, family members) is an enabler. Unless they attain permanent sobriety, addicts will eventually die from their addiction, alcoholism, or other forms of self-destruction. Meanwhile, the addict’s behavior drains loved ones down to nothing—emotionally, financially, and often physically. Addiction and compulsion destroys marriages and families. And this obliteration is the “gift” that keeps on giving—through the generations until someone in the family tree acquires the knowledge, courage, and the strength to neutralize—or to at least dilute—the chain of addiction with its negative mindsets and behavior patterns. This dilution process usually takes three to four generations.
The Proud Tree: Giving With Boundaries
Katie Deutsch wrote an essay in response to Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. Her essay describes the importance of setting healthy boundaries in our relationships and is crucial to our emotional health and happiness. Consequently, we don’t end up as victims in the addict’s wake. Katie’s essay ends with these words:
Many years later, the Boy came back.
“What is wrong Boy, you look so sad! Come sit and talk to me, share your problems.”
The Boy started to cry, “I am so sick of the world. It is so hard and it always challenges me. I wish I had a boat, so I could sail away and find peace. Give me your trunk so I can find an escape.”
Once again, the Tree was surprised and sharply spoke to the Boy, “The world will always challenge you, it doesn’t stop. And running away won’t solve your problems, only create new ones. And besides, your family needs your love and support.”
The Boy grew angry, threw up his hands, stomped away from the tree and disappeared.
More years passed, and the Boy came to visit once more, but this time he was an old man. The Tree welcomed him with open branches, calling out, “Hello old friend, it has been a long time.”
The Boy looked up at the beautiful apples, the majesty of her branches, marveled at her strong trunk and weeped, “Thank you for your strength, and thank you for your wisdom. I wanted everyone to bend to my will, but life doesn’t work that way.”
The Tree beamed with gratitude, “Yes, Boy, true friendship and love are built on boundaries. I’m glad you found peace. Come, sit down and rest.”
Addiction, compulsion, narcissistic behaviors, and other self-destructive mindsets are reaching epidemic proportions in American society. We feel these influences within our Latter-day Saint community. I believe that addiction and compulsion are part of “the mists of darkness” described in Lehi’s dream recorded in the Book of Mormon. Undoubtedly, we are extremely blessed to live during the final days before Christ’s Second Coming. By the same token, we can be easily overwhelmed and ensnared in societal pressures and influences that encourage forms of addiction, compulsion, and narcissistic behaviors.
Are you struggling? Is your loved one struggling? Are you in pain but not sure why? Do your problems seem unsolvable? Do you need help? Check with your ward and stake leaders for information and help in your area. You can also find resources through https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/?lang=eng
You’re not alone,
Julie
