I recently heard someone describe the changing of seasons as a relapse trigger. As I note vast numbers of Canadian geese in the sky, in huge V's and lines of 12's, heading north after wintering here in the Pacific Northwest, I say "yes." There is something in the shift of daylight, the incremental change in temperature, visible changes in the garden, both in spring and in fall, that evoke a sense of melancholy, a deep memory of what was, along with longing for what might be.

Sometimes I wonder at the sheer volume of memory rattling around in my psyche. I've been alive a good long while now, and I pay attention. Memory has been a good recovery trait - I do remember, with vivid clarity, much of the last few years and months of my drinking & using days. The obsession, the despair, the fear, and simply the daily drudge of hangovers and chasing the high, have always been reminders of where I don't want to return. I have scars on my arms from shooting up. Noticing them gives me pause to give thanks - for being alive, and for the amazing journey of a recovery life.

Sometimes, though, the power of memory takes twists and turns. I've had occasion, recently, to interact with my history, and have realized on an even deeper level, how grateful I am for all that was and all that is. That being said, I do sometimes play the "what if?" game. What if the relationship I went to treatment with the goal of saving had been saved? What if I'd gone to college after high school, instead of getting married? What if, in recovery, I'd been able to sit still instead of chasing this path, or that? What if I'd pursued a clinical degree instead of what I did earn (side note - on paper, I don't actually qualify for the last 3 jobs I've held).  Obviously, this line of thinking isn't particularly productive, but I must admit that there are times I engage in either morbid reflection, euphoric recall, or simply writing the whole thing over to suit present-day me. Maybe this is Step 3 stuff - I make the decision every morning to turn my will and my life over, but what do I actually do when I find myself lost in "Jeanine TV?"

The Steps and program of recovery aren't just for thinking about, but for doing. What does that mean, on a daily basis, when the substances that brought me here are far in the rear view mirror? I think it means remembering (here it is again - memory) where I did come from, thinking about the principles of honesty, open-mindedness and willingness, seeking to be of service rather than to be served, and yes, every once in a while, thinking of what might have been.

I often use the image of taking a breath, or exhaling, to describe my emotional state. I'm not a good breather - I tend to hold my breath without knowing it, waiting, for what? The other shoe to drop? Something unexpected to careen around the corner? I say that I trust, but do I? Trusting, today, means knowing that I am right where I am supposed to be, and that it is good. Trusting means the deep knowledge that whatever I've experienced, positive or not so much, has brought me to the here and now of long term recovery. 

Where do you spend time, either in memories or in making plans? How do you apply the Steps to your thinking, now that drinking is a thing of the past?