How my mother’s drinking made me a better entrepreneur. 9 ways trauma can serve you.

Prior to her passing, my mother was an alcoholic. Not the “I had too much to drink and said some crazy things” kind of alcoholic. She was in and out of treatment centers throughout much of my childhood/adolescence. I remember visiting her in rehab where she she made me a clay piece of art that said “Hope”. I remember having to call the police on her when she was too aggressive for me to physically get out of the house….multiple times. I remember social services once showing up to my house, where I then lied and said “It’s all fine”. I remember her being on house arrest and lying to my friends about why she couldn’t drive us to the mall. I remember having to hold the wheel of our van on I-80 because she fell asleep at the wheel on the highway. I remember being terrified.

I also remember this amazing person she was when she was sober. She started a successful business with a box of rocks….literally, rocks. She was a teacher and a writer and a healer. She had people come to see her from all around the country for her “gifts”. She facilitated workshops and classes and did so without any formal education. She was talented and gentle and wise and respected. She always knew the right things to say and would say them with such conviction that everyone would listen. She planned fun birthdays and made us heart-shaped cakes for Valentines Day. She stayed home with me when I was sick and would always let me lay on her lap while she made jewelry. She was fun and entertaining to be around. She spoke to me as if I was always smart enough to understand. She was a really good mom. She was self-aware enough to say “I have a problem and I’m sorry”. She told me about the trauma in her family that I am convinced led her to drink in the first place. That in itself made all the difference — it created an environment where I was able to discern what was ok and what wasn’t.

I lived in a constant state of hoping “sober mom” would be there when I got home from school. I had about a 50/50 chance every day. I would know within minutes of walking up the front steps — if I could smell her opium perfume it meant she was trying to hide the smell of vodka. I would stall, take a deep breath and walk in.
My mother passed away from an accidental overdose in 2007. My brother passed away from the same thing in 2008.
My brother retreated during our childhood. He went from starring in plays and drawing and playing basketball to playing video games in the basement — all the time. And then he started drinking. And taking oxycontin. That combination doesn’t work out well. He is what we as therapists refer to as “The Lost Child”. He refused to get therapy.
I was “The Hero Child”. I got good grades. I enjoyed school. I participated in athletics. I was in the honor society. I was in choir. I was the cheerleading captain. I worked. I always turned in my homework on time. I paid for my own car and my cell phone. I cooked my own meals because my mom was too intoxicated to make them. I went to therapy — not because I was told to go, but because I wanted to go. I went to therapy for over 10 years. I went to alanon and alateen and would ride my bike to get there before I could drive. I made myself so busy that I never had to be home or “see” the drama that was waiting for me. I got scholarships and awards. I thought “Maybe if I do xyz, she will stop drinking”. She didn’t, but I started to define myself by my accomplishments — I still do. It is easy to look at the Hero Child and think “they have it together” just as it is easy to look at the Lost Child and think “they are falling apart”. The truth is: Both sets of behaviors are a compensation for trauma. Both are rooted in dysfunction, but being “The Hero” is more socially accepted.
At Sample Therapy Services we work with people struggling with substance abuse and we talk about trauma. Many of the people we work with are on probation or parole. They are big guys that don’t want to cry or admit that there was trauma, but it is there. 80–90% of people with substance abuse problems have a history of trauma and that trauma runs deep.
People can’t resolve their response behaviors until they learn to address what they are responding to.
Does trauma create resilience or does innate resilience determine how we handle trauma? I think it is a combination of both. I think the degree of trauma matters too — my mother’s trauma makes mine look insignificant. People look at trauma like a solely negative experience. When identified and worked on, trauma can also be transferred into skills that create success and we need to remind people that a “black mark” can be turned into a golden access path to use skills others may not have learned.

There are several things about being a child of an alcoholic that I’m pretty convinced made me a successful entrepreneur:
I learned to trust myself first. Yes, in spite of my mother. I still follow my own compass as an adult. I listen to other’s opinions and accept some influence, but I mainly default to what I feel and know in my gut. I trust my judgment more than anyone else’s and I act whether I have consensus with others or not.
I have an internal locus of control. When you live in an unstable environment you learn that the only thing you can control is you. I learned to control my breathing and my stress as a little kid. My husband will say “When you are in a crisis your heart beat gets lower when everyone else’s gets higher”. I think this is why I work so well with clients in Sample Supports — when someone gets aggressive I feel a sense of calm, trusting I can handle it……when you learn to restrain your mother that is 3x your size, you kind of feel like you are invincible.
I have a high tolerance for stress. I never really learned a sense of boundaries or what is “too much”. I don’t really know if I have a “breaking point”, but I do know I can absorb a lot of things that others call stressful and I find them fun.
I don’t automatically respect authority or age — for obvious reasons. I have very little sense of “You are in charge because you earned it, so follow me blindly”. I know authority is kind of an illusion and to take it with a grain of salt. I look at facts and behaviors and respect people based on what they do — not on their titles. I trust behavior, not words. I’d rather BE the authority than have to be skeptical of someone else all the time.

I work with a sense of survival fear. It is never “enough” and I like that. Does it come from a place of dysfunction? Probably, but it has served me well. I get asked “When will you stop growing your businesses?” I don’t even know how to answer that question — “When I die, I guess.” I never know when it will all fall apart so I feel compelled to keep building multiple avenues of stability. I find comfort in what others find stressful.
I am willing to be bold and don’t embarrass easily. When you watch your parent make an ass out of themselves in front of large groups of people you kind of have to make a choice — run and hide or be present and see it through. I learned to be comfortable being uncomfortable — I didn’t always have a choice.
I have a high sense of responsibility. I remember running Crystal Joys for my mom when she was throwing up in the bathroom. There was one weekend at a psychic fair where I distinctly remember running the entire store by myself for two days while she drank in the hotel room. I was 11 years old. I realized that if I didn’t do it, nobody was going to, so I went ahead and did it.
I have a low tolerance for drama and dysfunction. It scares me and I feel threatened by people that are unstable. Once I notice that someone on the team is causing problems I address it quickly. I address it with a sense of urgency as if it isn’t an option to leave it festering. To me, dysfunction threatens our entire company’s existence and I can’t have it.
I have a high drive for success. I like seeing numbers grow. I like money. I like feeling accomplished. Yes, it is how I define myself and I know it is to overcompensate for some deep-rooted feeling of inadequacy. Oh well. It also creates an amazing life of abundance that gives me the freedom and space to work on the deeper stuff that is healing over time.

I sometimes wonder if my children will lack drive and motivation because their life is “too easy”. They live in a nice house with a white picket fence (literally) and don’t worry if mom is going to be sober or drunk when they get home from school. They just exist in this little bubble of happiness without strain or stress. Well, maybe my workaholism will be enough to spark a little drive — at least they will have a little golden access point there. I guess I can always get drunk and ask them to run our restaurant for a night… that would be fun for patrons of Samples World Bistro — I’m sure we would get some five star reviews from that… Nah, I’ll drink my ONE glass of wine and cheers to that being all they experience and I hope that for them, that is enough.

See more at: https://medium.com/@carmensample