From Courage to Change of Jul 12:
Tradition Five talks about “encouraging and understanding our alcoholic relatives.” This puzzled me at first. After all, doesn’t Al-Anon teach us to focus on ourselves? It seemed to be a contradiction.
Maybe the reason for my confusion is that I tended to think in extremes. Either I focused on myself and separated myself completely from the lives of others, or I wrapped myself around those others until I lost myself. Al-Anon helps me to come back to center.
O can focus on myself and still be a loving, caring person. I can have compassion for loved ones who suffer from the disease of alcoholism, or its effects, without losing my sense of self. Encouraging and being kind to others is one way of being good to myself, and I don’t have to sacrifice myself in the process.
Today’s Reminder
I am learning how to have saner and more loving relationships. Today I will offer support for those I love and still take care of myself.
“If you would be loved, love and be lovable.” ~ Benjamin Franklin
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Al-Anon Tradition Five: Each Al‑Anon Family Group has but one purpose: to help families of alcoholics. We do this by practicing the Twelve Steps of AA ourselves, by encouraging and understanding our alcoholic relatives, and by welcoming and giving comfort to families of alcoholics.
I’d come to Al-Anon to break the habit of orbiting around someone else’s chaos. How do I prevent the betrayal of the boundaries I was just starting to build if any part of the program points me back toward my qualifying alcoholic or addict?
But the deeper I walked this path, the more I found it to be true that much of my thinking was shaped by all-or-nothing patterns. For years, I believed I had only two choices: either detach completely and build a fortress, or sacrifice my own peace to keep someone else from crumbling. There was no middle ground.
Al-Anon has taught me that there is a middle ground. And it’s sacred.
Encouraging and understanding someone doesn’t mean enabling or losing myself. It means seeing them with clearer eyes—through the lens of compassion rather than control. It means recognizing the disease and its impact, but no longer letting it dictate how I live my life.
Today, I can show up with kindness without collapsing into old roles. I can say, I see your pain, without trying to fix it. I can support you, and still tend to my own soul.
This isn’t a contradiction. It’s a balancing act—a living dance between self-care and love, between detachment and connection. And every time I choose to stand in that space, I take another step toward the person I’m becoming: saner, softer, stronger.
I desire to walk in both truth and tenderness. I will care for others without abandoning myself.
Daily Reprieve 
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