May 14, 2008 - 08:30 AM

By Chris Hall

PORT PERRY -- For an hour each Monday evening, in the basement of the Port Perry United Church, painful secrets, memories and thoughts are shared by a dozen or so strangers all with one common link -- alcoholism.

But on this day each week, in a small, private room, it's not those who are battling the booze demons who come together to seek comfort in numbers. Instead, it's those who share a home, a family name or friendship with alcoholics who pull up a chair and share their stories with others in the same situation. Or just sit silently, enjoying the security of knowing they're not alone in their fight.

For 25 years now, the Al-Anon support group has provided a safe haven for friends and family members across north Durham to gather weekly. Each has their own painful story to tell about dealing with an alcoholic and all know they can open up to their peers around the table, knowing their privacy is secure.

Young and old alike, from all walks of life, it's the common bond that has brought them so much turmoil that brings them together.

In Martha's case, the pain of alcoholism started at a young age and continued throughout her adult life until only a few years ago. Now 45, the north Durham resident was born into a home that was dominated by an alcoholic and abusive father who spent his days as a Crown attorney.

"I thought an alcoholic was someone who lived on the streets with a bag," says Martha. "He was a successful man, so how could he be a drunk?"

It wasn't long before the disease claimed her father, as he died when she was 15. Stung by his death, Martha's life began spiralling.

"I just didn't believe it, I was in pure disbelief. I could not believe he died," she says. "It was a source of pain for me and I became suicidal. I had a lot of issues there were never resolved with him and he was gone. I was a quite a mess."

Three years later, in Toronto, Martha had her first encounter with Al-Anon.

"I was so excited, I couldn't believe that there were people who knew what I was going through," she recalls, perched on a chair in the bottom level of the United Church.

Shamed by her sister for sharing the family's innermost secrets, Martha did not return for a second session.

Still carrying the weight of memories of her lost father, it was around this time that Martha met her future husband. He, too, turned out to be a heavy drinker. His ideal birthday gift, either to give or receive, was a bottle of booze, she says.

Once again, alcohol was a constant in her life.

"Your normal is drinking and you think that everyone drinks. But my husband was very, very sick," says Martha, who notes she herself was not a fan of booze blowouts.

The couple dated for nine years, with Martha trying her best each step of the way to get her partner to release his grip on the bottle.

They got married because she thought he would stop drinking. They tried the "parental cure" and had two children. They moved from Toronto to the countryside.

"I was trying desperately to come up with cures," she says.

With friction in the home, Martha's husband turned to hiding his habit. Each Sunday, she says, he would squirrel away a week's worth of mickies in a tree across from the family's home.

"He was really good at hiding the bottles," she says with a laugh.

But things continued to get worse. Her husband would get wasted on a Friday night and then spend the entire weekend in bed. Sometimes, she would have to call his boss on Mondays, fabricating a story as to why her husband wouldn't be showing up for work.

"I was the enabler, I let him do it," says Martha.

The final straw, however, came when her husband told her that he needed to quit his job because of stress.

"But I knew he just wanted to quit so he could stay home and drink," Martha explains, shaking her head.

It was at this point, about four years ago, that Martha threw her husband out on the street and attended her first Al-Anon meeting at the Port Perry United Church.

"I realized I couldn't help my husband. I didn't think he was going to make it to his 40th birthday. My dad died when he was 46....," she says, her voice trailing off.

It was at Al-Anon that Martha finally figured out that it wasn't just her husband who needed assistance. She needed a helping hand just as badly.

"I wanted 12 steps to help my husband, but I learned that the only person I could fix and help is myself," she says. "I had to turn a mirror on myself."

With her husband away at a treatment centre, Martha focussed on curing herself, thanks to the help of the Al-Anon group. Today, her husband is sober and attends Alcoholics Anonymous meetings three times a week. Martha never misses a Monday night meeting at the Port Perry church.

At each meeting, there is no set agenda. There is no president, only a rotating chairperson who randomly chooses topics. Family and friends are the focus, not the alcoholic. There are no rules that dictate you have to say anything at all. The only demand is privacy, as in nothing is shared with those outside of the small church room.

"You get as much as you give," says Martha. "It's a nice circle of hope."

It's hope that Pam, 57, was looking for when she attended her first meeting eight years ago. She knew her mother was an alcoholic, and that three of her four siblings also suffered from the disease. But the biggest blow of all came when she discovered that a brother, who had hidden so well his dependency on booze, was also an abuser.

"It devastated me," says Pam, also of north Durham.

She immediately called Alcoholics Anonymous to seek help on how she could cure her brother, but was instead herself directed to Al-Anon to deal with her family issues.

"I wanted my mom to be like Beaver's mother, I wanted her to be the model mom," says Pam, referring to the iconic matriarch in the well-known 'Leave It To Beaver' television series. "But when I came here, it made me realize she wasn't going to change, so I had to."

It's around the Al-Anon table, says Pam, "you realize you have become as sick as the alcoholic and it takes away your self-esteem. You may not be able to change anything about the alcoholic in your life, but you can change your life in a good way.

"It makes you realize that you didn't cause (the alcoholism), you can't cure it and that you can't change it," says Pam. "But once you realize that, you can start to like yourself."

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