Paul G was a big teddy bear. A gentle giant of a man who delivered me, and many others from an impending life of self-loathing and despair. At forty, he made a career change that dumped him into a potpourri of pain and dysfunction. He had opted to become an addictions councilor. And one of his first assignments, was to facilitate group therapy sessions for Adult Children of Alcoholics. Paul, was my first introduction into therapy. It was he, who gathered me up in his kindness and set me down on the long winding road to personal recovery.

Dear Paul,
I'm not sure you will remember me, but that isn't important. What is, is that I extend to you an invitation to visit my garden, if only as an avatar.

In 1987, I was part of one of your group therapy sessions at Northwood for Adult Children of Alcoholics. It was the last place I wanted to be. I loved my Dad, he was a good father, it was my mother who was the problem. No wonder he drank; remember that?

I had just been released from a grueling week of intense reckoning at chit chat; a program geared to assist family member of alcoholics. My son was fresh out of rehab, and it was at their suggestion that I look at my own alcohol consumption, attend meetings, and enter your group. Needless to say, I wasn't eager to participate.

I was a simmering cauldron of anger, fear, low self --esteem, and serious doubt as to your qualifications. After all it was common knowledge that you had never walked the path of addiction, what could you possibly know about it? I was determined to just sit back and watch, maybe hide in a corner somewhere.

The first couple of sessions you were quite patient, allowing me to simply absorb it all. I figured that you realized that was traumatic enough. But slowly and methodically, I might add, you sucked me in before I even realized what was happening. There were three profound instances that made a tremendous impact on me, denting my armor forever.

The first one was the assignment that completely gutted me in the process. You asked us to do a collage of what our life felt like. For some strange reason, I found myself eager to get started. I rushed out and bought a huge piece of poster-board, and that week worked into the wee hours of the morning composing what turned out to be a picture book of horror The pain was devastating, because as the thorns and brambles all became intertwined, my denial began to seep away, and for the first time in my life, I realized just how many issues I had to work on. That was my first breakthrough.

Thank you for making me aware.

Your next clever trick was when you finally got me to cry in group. You gave me a nick-name that day, you called me the woman of frozen tears because I could turn it off like a spigot. And then, you proceeded to pull things out of me that I had never intended to share. You must have known I was ripe for the picking because I finally let it all out.

Thank you for teaching me how to cry.

And last, but certainly not least, was the day you taught me the most valuable lesson of all. We were working on issues concerning my ex husband that involved years of mental, as well as physical abuse. You were cajoling me, trying to make me angry, but I was afraid of anger. My solution was to swallow it and turn it inward. I was so afraid of losing control. Do you remember what you did? You asked me for examples of his abuse, and each time I named one you placed a heavy pillow in my arms. They towered over my head before I finally collapsed from the weight. When you handed me that big red plastic bat, I went at those pillows with a vengeance, and guess what; you were right, letting go of all of that hurt and anger did not destroy me, it released me.

Thank you for teaching me to stand up for myself and recognizing when I am being abused. I know now that anger is just an emotion, and one that can be dealt with safely.

Because you taught me that there is no shame in seeking help and that we all have issues, I traveled that long road to recovery. Over the years I returned to therapy when needed, with the secure knowledge, that it was a safe harbor. Haven't needed it since my dad passed thirteen years ago, but if I ever do, I will not hesitate.

Today my garden is a blooming masterpiece of self-acceptance, self-esteem, serenity, and believe it or not, there is even a patch of spontaneity.


You started me on a marvelous journey of self-discovery, and I am eternally grateful. You will always be my gentle giant.


Just another one of your success stories.