“Enablers Anonymous”

“Hi. My name is Kelly, and I am an enabler.”

“Hi, Kelly,” they replied as one.

She was an ordinary woman, unremarkable but with kind eyes and a serious face that readily assumed a friendly smile. Right now, she looked nervous and her voice trembled on the brink of tears as she surveyed the group sitting attentively before her.

“I don’t know what brought me here, except that I’m always there for everyone but myself. Friends, family, co-workers, charities, political causes; I have time for them all. I make time for them all, even when I don’t have time to give …”

A familiar litany. A common-ground frustration born of the impulse to help, even if helping was only to listen while someone thought aloud. It was why they gathered at the community hall each week, those good-hearted folk who put everyone else ahead of themselves and asked nothing in return. None of them freely told near-strangers about their problems, thoughts, fears, retirement plans, you name it, yet every one of them had heard intimate details of financial woes and health crises, of elderly parent incontinence and executive bosses’ expectations. None of them had the power to fix any of what they heard, but they heard it anyway, all the while trying to manage their own lives.

Some were moral support for sisters in bad relationships or brothers with addiction issues. Others juggled sullen teens, difficult employees, neglectful spouses and inconsiderate neighbours.

All were weighted by their own schedules—arranging for car repairs and new hot water tanks, taxiing kids to after-school activities and making medical appointments for their own elderly parents, but no one knew the extent of their stresses. They were private people, introverts unwilling (or unable) to share such personal information with more than a trusted few. Even at weekly EA meetings, they discussed how they could have/would have/should have extricated themselves from unwanted and intrusive wastes of time. How to break their collective addiction was their focus.

But when the facilitator thanked Kelly, then smiled and asked which of them would like to be her sponsor, everyone put up a hand and no one saw the irony.