Awareness as a tool

 Mindless repetition of any practice, with no clear goal or clarity of intention, can in fact keep us quite unconscious—unless the practices keep breaking us into new insight, desire, compassion, and an ever-larger notion of [Higher Power] and ourselves. Automatic repetition of anything is a recipe for unconsciousness, the opposite of any genuine consciousness, intentionality, or spiritual maturity.     Richard Rohr 4/9/24

The above Richard Rohr quote speaks to me (I get his daily emails) as I strive to remain teachable, always, but especially in long-term recovery when so much of my practice feels automatic - don't drink, go to meetings (or not, as the case may be with you), strive to be honest, open-minded and willing. As my first sponsor used to say, "You either grow, or you go." She didn't say anything about a time limit or an arrival date.

This past week, in Sedona, Arizona, friends and I went for a hike, then more trekking over rocks and boulders to find the Airport Mesa Vortex. We got there, and along with a dozen other seekers, sat quietly to absorb the energy and nature's beauty. I wanted to, but am not sure I actually felt anything, other than the wind. The quest was a bit of "Serenity now!!" in that we'd come all that way and I wasn't leaving until we found a vortex! It was a fun, and beautiful quest in the amazing geology of Sedona, but reminded me that I can't simply conjure up a spiritual experience - OK, Universe, it's Tuesday and I have half an hour, so let's have at it. My moments of psychic rearrangement have usually occurred in a pool of tears, after inventories galore, and the pain that comes with unearthing the deep and often dark caverns of grief - for those I've lost, things not said, or for my own un-awakened self who struggled with how to be in the world.

So, vortex or no vortex (a friend who lived there says it is a sham designed for tourists - not sure I believe that either), I came home from vacation with a renewed appreciation for my everyday life, as well as gratitude for stellar travel companions and the resources to experience new places. I traveled a fair amount in the few years before hitting bottom, but much of that was through the haze of a hangover. It is good to be alive, and aware, and to remember what I did the day before.

Staying aware is a component of keeping my program practice vital. If I'm glossing over the pages in my daily reader because I've practically got them memorized, maybe I can switch to a book of poetry to steer my morning contemplations. If my meetings feel stale (less an issue in the time of zoom), I can always try another, grateful to live in a metropolitan area with multiple choices each day, both online and in-person. Whenever and wherever I notice myself in a stupor of the automatic, I can shake myself awake. 

Kittens help with that - we've had ours now for about 8 months. Nothing like young pets to shake up one's perspective, noticing the sheer joy of their explorations. (For us, part of that has meant moving anything glass or precious out of leaping range.)  Our daughter provides that window into newness and possibilities as well, as do newcomers in meetings where the whole world is at their feet. I am not 24, or 2 months sober, or a kitten (!), however, I don't want to be a stale old lady who's seen it all. I have seen and done a lot, and, the world (both the inner and outer landscapes) are still there - as interesting as I let myself believe them to be.

I once heard someone share that an alcoholic will take a rut, put in indoor-outdoor carpeting and call it home. There's nothing wrong with cozy familiarity, but please let me see beyond the nose on my face or the dirty dishes in the sink.

How do you remain teachable today? Where do you find magic in the everyday? How do you shake yourself out of a mindless stupor to keep your spiritual program alive?

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Bondage of self

 This week I'm in sunny (hot) Arizona, vacationing with my two travel buddies. I'm not generally a fan of high temps (hence, my love of the usually temperate Pacific Northwest), but a sunny getaway during the rainy months is welcome - as my friend says, vitamin D via nature, not a pill.  And, it's good for my soul to experience an environment unlike my usual day-to-day,  whether that's in the desert,  the Oregon coast, or a walk in the woods. 

I shared at a speaker meeting last weekend (I was the Alanon) - always a trigger for anxiety as well as an opportunity to be of service. I almost didn't go into the addiction counseling field because I knew that lecturing was part of the job description. In high school I'd either cut class or stay home sick on the rare days I needed to do a presentation. Ah, bondage of self - way more concerned with what people might think of me than was warranted. Some of that is adolescence, with the "invisible audience" stage of maturing. No, dear, you only think people are watching you (ha ha - a whole 'nother state of mind when using paranoia-inducing chemicals). Anyhow, I tend to twitch as I think about speaking, but, thank you AA/Alanon, am ok once I get going. And as we know, there are usually three talks we give - the one in the car on the way to the group, the actual share, and the one on our way home, thinking of everything we left out. Yes, here I am, one more time, more like my fellows than different.

I expect to be deep into my temporary elections job when I get home. I think back to early retirement when I had the urge to know what I was supposed to be doing next. I've since settled into the knowledge that what I'm to do will present itself, and that I can change my mind as my priorities shift and change. What a concept! I used to operate on the belief that a decision was a decision was a decision. Obviously, some things are an either-or, but so much isn't. That is one of the freedoms of getting older - that knowing that things change, I change, what I may want changes.

In 1981 in Portland, downtown was reconfigured to include Pioneer Square, dubbed the city's living room, a block with open space and seating for events and just hanging out. As part of the process, personalized bricks were sold that now and forever pave the area. I bought one for myself, my boyfriend, my brother and my bestie's three kids. While I've sort of looked for mine over the years, to no avail, one of my "When I'm Retired" items was to find the brick, which I did recently, with the help of a nice security guy. As I told my brother (who now wants me to find his), this is likely my marker, my headstone of sorts as I don't expect an actual grave when I go. 

And so, an example of priorities - I had vague "I should find my brick" or "I really should go find my grandfather's gravesite" but neither were pressing. Like when I was bemoaning that it was taking literal years to finish my novel, asking myself, "If I say this is important, why is it I do everything but??"  My therapist at the time said, "Maybe you need to choose it," as in, decide, then take the action. And that includes looking at my internalized "should's," a current one being around my writing. I've been wrestling with the "now I'm retired, I should write another book" demon, when in reality, I'm not feeling moved to do so. Is this a dream to release, along with the long ago desire to own a house at the beach or go back to playing the piano? If I really wanted to do any of these things, I'd be doing them, so perhaps I can let myself off the hook, like recently realizing that it's really OK that I haven't read many of the classics or that I'm woefully undereducated regarding classical music, acknowledging that there isn't likely going to be a test at the end! ODAT, what moves my heart today?

As I was leaving my walking group last weekend, full of gratitude for this recovery life, the old fear of the other shoe dropping popped up, as if there is only so much good to go around, and I've had my quota. But then I remembered that last year at this time, I was being treated for breast cancer. Sometimes the other shoe does drop, and the principles of the program always, always get me through.

How does the bondage of self show up for you today? What are your priorities at the moment, not what you think they should be? Does the fear of the other shoe dropping ever stalk you? What do you say to calm it when it does?

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Inner feelings

 I've found my way (or the way has found me) to the social media algorithms for aging - aging women in particular. I don't mind so much, though it is eerie to suddenly see ads for something I was only thinking about along with the articles about getting older. I'm now seeing all sorts of lovely pieces on aging with grace, aging with "screw you Madison Avenue!" or aging with an eye to the inevitable.

Many of the pieces I read talk about how one feels the same inside all along, though the image in the mirror has changed. I remember my mother talking about that - how she felt the same as she always had, even as she entered her 80's. I agree, though I do have more confidence in myself and my ability to handle life-on-life's-terms than I did when younger. But yes, I was a mischievous and energetic kid who liked reading and climbing trees. Climbing trees is probably not a good idea these days, but the rest still fits. I like to throw parties, I'm drawn to people who make me laugh, I love the beach. How much of who I am and always have been is innate, and how much is learned, and does it really matter at this point?

So what is different, besides the smile lines and saggy neck? Friends and I talk about a shift in energy. What used to include working all day, attending an evening meeting then maybe dinner or a movie afterwards has morphed into quiet evenings at home. A day now feels full if I have two things scheduled, where before, cramming the calendar was the norm and actually fed my energy (I've long said I'd rather be busy than bored). I used to bounce back quicker from a long run/walk or a strenuous hike. I've always needed my 8 hours of sleep, but these days, the getting there is more of a challenge. I have less interest in the latest anything and prefer shopping in my own closet.

On an internal, emotional level, life is generally calmer because I'm not as twitched about people, places and things as I might've been. That's in context of course - an election year here in the US has plenty of opportunity for rumination - but overall, I'm more aware that the beat goes on, with or without my input. There are still blips on the path - a diagnosis, a loss, a change in circumstance - and, I now have years and years of walking through the fears, stumbling over the boulders and watching you do the same, knowing that yes, I am and will be OK.

Maybe it's about redefining what "OK" means. It certainly isn't that every single thing goes my way, that the neighbors will never take my parking spot or that I'll be able to zip the cute jeans. It doesn't mean that I'll never get a scary diagnosis or that no one I love will get sick (I remember my aunt, near the end of her life, asking, "You didn't think I'd live forever, did you?!" Well, yes, I'd kind of hoped...). It doesn't mean that the roof won't leak, or the beloved pet won't die.  What it means today is that I am OK - the internal me, the part of me that observes all the stuff happening in me and my world. And I very much realize that this contemplation is a luxury and might be a different conversation if I didn't know where I'd sleep tonight, or where my next meal was coming from. Always, perspective...

In a recent meeting, someone shared that they prefer the idea of living the Steps vs working them. I like that image. In earlier recovery, I did have to work them - consciously wondering which Step applied and how to use it. I no longer feel like a project, like damaged goods, and over time, the Steps and the principles have simply become a part of my world view. So, for me, the question is, how do I apply the Steps, in my own relatively comfortable life, while being aware of the suffering around me, as well as making myself available for service (whether in program or the greater world)? Deciding where I'll point my attention, how I will greet and accept the various feelings that arise in the course of a day, how I will implement the pause - all keep me in contact with the Steps and the principles of the program.

How has your internalized view of self changed over the years, and how are you still the person you always were? Has the inventory process helped to unravel the parts that were learned and the parts that are simply you? If life is a series of lessons, what is it you are learning today? How do you live and apply the Steps to life on life's terms, the big things and the small, knowing you are ok, no matter what?

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Decisions

 My stepdaughter's birthday was this past week - our relationship being one of those unexpected gifts I hadn't known I'd wanted. 

I spent a lot (a LOT) of time in my 30's and early 40's on the decision. I was aware I'd kind of done life backwards - when my friends were having kids as young marrieds, I was drinking my brains out, intuitively if unconsciously knowing I probably wouldn't/couldn't stay sober for 9 months. I was then faux-retired, traveling with my boyfriend, neither interested in curtailing our lifestyle.

And then, sobriety at 31 - still in the childbearing years, without a prospect. I could hear the clock ticking, and explored having a baby with a gay friend, but while that was still in the planning stage, met the guy I'd be with for the next 9 years, someone even more ambivalent than I was about parenthood.

And so, he and I muddled through, sometimes talking about marriage and kids, mostly not. I did talk about it for hours with my running pal - training for marathons gives one a lot of time to converse. We were both aware that time was slipping away while saying things like, "When I finish my degree," or "After the next race," obviously not compelled.

I did an awful lot of thinking, however, including checking out several books from the library that were very helpful. One suggested that I journal in one color ink when I was certain I wanted a baby and another color when I was just so-so. That was a great and eye-opening tool, and one I've used for other decision situations. This book also said that whichever path I chose, there would be some regrets, and that not having kids didn't mean that I'd have to be a super-achiever in other areas. Again, useful information for other either/or matters

Eventually, mother nature took the decision from me, though by then, I'd written my master's thesis on the validity of not having children in a culture that hadn't quite caught up with the reality of reproductive choice. And the beat went on...  I never even dated anyone who was actively parenting.

Then I met this guy, this extrovert, who had a 9-year-old daughter. It was a bit of a process for all of us, but our relationship is one of the highlights of my life. As it was for my mom, who'd always said, "Whatever makes you happy, honey," but was so very happy herself to have a granddaughter. 

So what does all this have to do with long-term sobriety? A reminder to myself that, even though I had my hopes and dreams about how life would or could turn out, the details were/are in the hands of the Fates. As always, I can make plans but the outcomes are not in my control. That can feel scary, or "thank goodness!"

I went out to dinner and an in-person meeting last week for a Program friend's 36th anniversary. I will say that while it was nice to see people, it didn't feel like something I need to do again. Friday nights used to be a required meeting/social night, when I lived for the weekend. I drank every night of the week, but on Fridays, especially, it felt important to fill-in-the-blank with meetings and meetings people. These days, whether related to post-pandemic or simply getting older, I'm less inclined.

In any event, the Friday birthday person will always be in my memory for something she said, probably 15 years ago: "When I know better, I have to do better."  At the time, I thought "Crap!" because I knew better but wasn't doing better. Funny how I can hear something 46 times and on the 47th have that "ah ha" moment.  I read somewhere that maturity includes the ability to foresee consequences, then behave accordingly. That is much easier as time goes on, vs the old days of act-now-pay-later. 

This came up recently with a "should" vs self-care. Gratefully, I'm in a place where self-care usually wins out, but still sometimes with the guilt-battle of thinking it's not ok to want what I want or feel what I feel. It used to be that the agitation of that inner-conflict would push me towards a peace-keeping decision, no matter the cost to my serenity. Today I'm better able to slow it all down, take a deep breath and know that if nobody's bleeding and nothing is on fire, I can do what's best for me. 

What is your process when you have a big decision to make? What parts of your life are different than what you'd thought would happen? What about the "When I know better, I have to do better?" Does that trigger a "Yes!" or an "Uh oh"?  What is it you do when an old "should" is trying to convince you to let go of your serenity?

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Connections

 I'm thinking about connections this week, the gift of our shared histories and recoveries - like Dr Bob said after meeting Bill that first time, "He talked my language." How many times have I heard a complete stranger say what I'm feeling? How many times does someone share something that lights a flame in me, or triggers an insight? 

A good friend and her husband are moving out of state. I say "good friend" though this isn't someone I've hung out with all that much. But we've been in various Step Groups together over the years, have socialized, and have shared many, many meetings together, and deep conversations - that intimacy we can have in Program where we weave in and out of each other's lives. Connections.

I'm also thinking of a small group that meets online every 2 weeks, starting for a good friend's 30th anniversary during the pandemic. The wonders of technology let us stay connected from multiple cities across the country, where if left to our own devices, we might see each other once a year. Connections.

The Big Book says "We are normally people who would not mix." What I like to say in response to that is, "I would've drank with any of you," and we might've been best friends by the end of the evening, or the end of the bottle or bag. I still cringe when I think of my ex and I getting chummy with the out-of-town band at one of our local spots, inviting them over the next night to party Portland-style. Oh man, did the next morning's hangover have us saying, "What did we do?" followed by a phone call to back out of our offer. Embarrassing, but we knew we'd never see these people again, so what the heck. I/we had lots of grand plans in those days - the brilliant ideas of the sitting-on-the-barstool variety that never, ever came to pass. I am still and always grateful to wake up clear headed each morning, remembering what I did the day before and with whom. 

My spouse and I made it through the big rummage sale this past weekend, a little bit richer, a little less in the garage, sharing laughter along the way. Knowing it could be a dicey time, we started each morning with the Serenity Prayer and our intention to go with the flow. Interesting, isn't it, to actually talk about what is, or might be, going on rather than relying on mind reading? Ha! I will also say that being in recovery has taught me how to comfortably talk with strangers, thus I made a couple of sale-pals as we counted down the hours. I also paid attention to the still, small voice that was not so still and not so small when it shouted, "Get out of here!" on Sunday. Because a friend was there to help out, I was able to take an introvert's break, catch the bus home for a quiet couple of hours, and return refreshed and ready to load out when the time came. Thank you, Program tools. Thank you "to thine own self be true." Sometimes the connection is with myself. 

What are the connections that feed you today, whether particular meetings or particular people? How do you honor the connection to your higher self when the busy world wants to distract you? Is there a potential disruption to your path that could be averted with a conversation?

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Centered...

 In a meeting last week, someone pointed out that they would never have imagined the life they have today. I was verklempt as I realized that yes, my life is wonderful, and it is the life I'd always imagined for myself - simple and solid, centered on home and relationships.

I've written about that before, how when I was married to my first husband (way too young) I'd imagine what life could be like. And then, in a long-term relationship with a man who traveled extensively for work, I longed for what I thought of as normalcy - a mate who comes home at night to a casserole in the oven, simple and solid. It took a long time, even in to sobriety, to realize that never could've happened given the circumstances.   

Part of my unconscious dilemma of being able to acknowledge what it was I wanted in life is that I didn't even know who I was. I was unsettled, but from what? Starting to drink and drug at age 13, my sense of self was defined by whoever I was with at the moment. Sure, my core personality (very shy and introverted until that 3rd drink) was there, but I would've had a hard time describing myself. Getting sober at 31gave me the opportunity to grow up, to define what it was/is that matters to me, learning to listen to the still, small voice.

Richard Rohr, in his post from March 15, says, "We do not find our center; it finds us." Ahh, that feels like a relief, an exhale. Now that I do know who I am, I don't have to search under rocks, try, try, try to "find" peace of mind. If I'm not careful, that sense of center will fly right by when I'm distracted by the issue of the day - last week it was a flat tire, this week it's preparing for the big rummage sale, next week it could be just about anything. I need to handle the affairs of the day while still leaving space for the mystery, to metaphorically or actually smell the flowers.

When my spouse came home from work after my emotional reaction to the idea of living the life I'd always wanted, I started to literally weep as I expressed my gratitude, which was also attached to the year anniversary of my surgery. I've since heard from a couple of people that those anniversaries of diagnosis or treatment continue to be a touchpoint, even years after the fact. Just one more reason I appreciate your experience, strength and hope, guiding me along places I hadn't even known I was going.

One of my daily readers says, "I can live spiritually in the simple acts of daily living."  I need that reminder as we mark the Equinox, sometimes, still, thinking that "spirit" is out there in the forest or a bed of daffodils, when, really, the spiritual life is in the flat tire or doing the dishes as well. Quiet moments in nature are wonderful, and I spend most of my days in the kitchen or in the car. How do I bring my focus back to the bigger picture? 

Back in the day, did you have a vision for how life might be in the nebulous "someday?" How does that imagining compare to how your life looks today?  How does your sense of self contrast with how you were in the world before recovery? With the earth in brief balance between light and dark, how do you re-center if you're feeling off?

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Acceptance

 We made a quick trip this past weekend to visit the in-laws, always a joy, especially seeing the little ones grow up in just the short time since our last visit, as well as being able to share and express love with my husband's elderly and ailing (though healing remarkably) step-dad. These connections are precious. I am so grateful to be a part of the family.

Always, one of the highlights of our visits is seeing our AA family, attending our home-away-from-home group with a laughter-filled coffee date after. Again, precious connections over time and space.

The speaker-discussion meeting we attended provided much food for thought with the speaker talking about the inner peace that comes when we can accept all of life as being what it is. As he described it, we often start out focused on school, career, partnership, etc, but that true serenity comes when we understand that we are OK, regardless of what is going on in our world. As the Big Book says, "job or no job, wife or no wife."  I won't find inner peace as long as I attached my mood to my outer circumstances. OK, so obviously, I'm impacted by what is happening to and around me, and if I'm able to take a step back, I know I'm ok no matter what. 

That seems particularly relevant today, literally one year from my surgery for breast cancer. Oh man, I was scared, never having had surgery before, wavering between trust and fear. At the time, my sponsor encouraged me to go into the process with curiosity, an "Isn't this interesting?" mind set. That was helpful and brought me back to the here and now several times. A good reminder, still, as I think about the disruption to my routines that felt like forever.  And, here we are, a year later and all is well. (I knew it was time to discontinue physical therapy when I realized it didn't hurt when someone hugged me).

I did send a "thank you" message to the cancer counselor who helped me walk through the scary days, including giving me "permission" to be freaked out, even though my situation was fairly straightforward. I can still tell myself that I shouldn't be feeling what I feel, since so many others have it worse. True, and it is more helpful to acknowledge my emotions and let them pass through than to scold myself.

Being a union household, we generally take a cab to the airport, and I'm always curious about where the drivers come from. One of the trips this week was with a man from Ethiopia, who described tribal conflicts that prompted his father to immigrate. We made a comment about things in the US being in a bit of a state at the moment, to which he just chuckled, saying he was grateful that here one can express an opinion without worrying about being turned in by the neighbors and being carted away in the night. I can complain about our national dysfunction and am reminded that other places do not have the freedoms we do. The question to myself is always, "Am I part of the problem or part of the solution?"

Both the in-person meeting last Friday, and a regular zoom group last week, touched on the idea of actually practicing the principles vs dialing it in, along with the importance of being honest with oneself. On one hand, I no longer view myself as broken, as needing to be fixed, and, I am aware of the human tendency at rationalization. Let me be honest, with you and with me, aware of when I'm simply going through the motions and when I'm truly connected to my heart, and to yours.

Where are you on the acceptance continuum today? How do you detach from people, places and things in order to dwell in serenity? What in your past serves as a reminder that all is well, even when it doesn't feel good in the moment? How are you part of the solution today?

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Live your best life

 The likely grandchild of "Have a nice day" and "Don't worry, be happy," the current T-shirt, coffee mug and bumper sticker adage of "Live your best life!" can either make me pause, gag, or smile, depending on my mood. 

Currently, I have friends who are traveling in Southeast Asia and in Qatar, others who are snow-birding here in the States. A couple of friends go out dancing two or three times a week, while others are active in their grandchildren's lives. Some of my friends live near the sea and others are in big cities, hundreds of miles from where they were raised. Some are happy, some are so-so, and what I realize as I think of how others are living their lives, is that comparison is the enemy of serenity. Sometimes, my best life means getting on an airplane or behind the wheel, and sometimes it means staying up to watch a silly sitcom with my working man who got home late. Sometimes sitting on my couch with a cuppa on a cold, rainy day is heaven, and sometimes it's not. And as I'm forever reminded, "This too, shall pass," whether that is joy or sorrow, boredom or excitement. 

Speaking of de-cluttering (ha!), my spouse and I are getting ready for a big sale at the end of March - one of those events where one buys space, then crosses our fingers that we at least make back the investment. Hard to say at this point, and all dependent on who shows up wanting what. I think of all my mother's tchotchkes and Avon stuff (she was the neighborhood Avon Lady for decades). She, and we, thought we were sitting on a gold mine, and had we tried to sell ten years earlier, that might've been true. It will be what it will be - some books, some music, some t-shirts and miscellany, hauling it in and hopefully hauling less back home.

I keep seeing articles that our generation's kids don't want the fine china, or the heavy dining room table, being more of the Ikea mind-set of light weight and easy to move. I get it, kind of, but do feel an attachment to "stuff," like my mom's carved hope chest, my grandmother's desk and a couple of wicker-seated chairs. I understand that much of what I value is no longer in fashion, which leads me to keep what I like (and actually use it) and dispose of the rest (whether sales, donations or to family and friends). It is definitely a process.

And while it can seem that many intangibles have also gone out of style (greeting those one passes on the street, general kindness to strangers, truth vs opinion), I hang on to the universal truths of the program - strive for honesty with self and others, amend when I screw up, remember that I'm not in charge. Sometimes I feel unmoored "nowadays" with just enough technological know-how to get by, watching my generation of musicians and other icons die. Why, I remember seeing that band when I was 15, or 20, or even 35, and now we're all old people, gratefully, as that is a gift denied to many, though the ticking clock can be disconcerting.

And so, with March being the month for Step 3 focus, how will I get out of the driver's seat? How do I remember to go ahead and make plans, then let go of the wheel of expectation?  How will I "live my best life," knowing that I'm the only one who can define that?

What does Step 3 mean in your daily life? How to you move away from comparison to contentment? What universal truths make up your worldview? How does "live your best life" shift from day to day?

* * *

Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Choices

 I'm reminded, again and again, that when I'm sober, I have choices - how to spend my time, how to spend my money, how to spend this one precious life. (I recently saw a post on social media that said, "Stop waiting for a special occasion - every day alive is a special occasion"). 

I'm also reminded, again and again, that it's one day at a time - absolutely all of it. Sobriety, healing physically or emotionally, gardening, the kittens maturing/simmering down, the seemingly endless de-clutter projects and on and on. That used to bother me. "Quit throwing around that 'odat' BS you old-timers" I'd think, as I'd drive myself crazy trying to solve the problem of the day all at once. In reality, living one day at a time is a huge spiritual discipline. Obviously, we really can only live in this one day, but man, oh man can my mind jump to the future, to no avail, whether that is the big "F" future, as in anticipation of health or illness, or the smaller "f' concerns of getting to the grocery store during a sale. One day at a time, one task at a time, one decision at a time. 

The good news is that I've gravitated to meetings, mostly online, with others who feel about program like I do - that it is a way of life, not a destination to check off. To me, recovery is like a second language - if I don't use it, I lose it. I know that people practice the principles in many different ways, especially as time goes on, but for me, "Don't drink and go to meetings" still works.  

It was literally one year ago that I received a diagnosis of breast cancer, during a snowstorm, internal knowing all would be well going to battle with a slew of fears. And here I am today, healthy and healing. I think of all the other times I thought life was over, or questioned my ability to survive - my father dying, way too young at 56, several relationship endings (always a challenge), a couple of job lay-offs or leaving a job without another in place... Life works out, and I've ALWAYS been able to walk through the fear, the sorrow, the sadness, at least partly because I now have past experience to draw from, and because I have your experience, strength and hope to guide me.

Several sponsees are going through the wringer lately. Sometimes I can share my experience, strength and hope and sometimes I can simply be a compassionate, listening heart. I remember the panic when I was first asked to sponsor someone. I called a friend, with way more experience (as in 6 months more) than me. "What do I do?!" "It's simple," she replied. "You just nod your head and say 'uh-huh, tell me more'." Ha! Obviously there's a bit more to it than that, like the Steps for one thing, but the process isn't as complicated as I can make it. Sometimes my sponsors get me and sometimes they don't. Sometimes I relate to what is shared with me, sometimes I don't. The important piece is in the listening, or when I'm the one seeking guidance, in the telling. My disease of isolation can sometimes whisper that I don't need to call or text or email because, with X number of years, I know what to do. Sure. I usually know what to do, and, it is in the reaching out that healing occurs. I don't usually get my "ah-ha" moments in a vacuum. Those moments of insight nearly always come from something I've read, or something I've heard, whether in a meeting or in a conversation with a trusted other. 

In addition to my year cancer-versary, this week marks 38 years since I went to my first Alanon meeting, desperate for some magic words that would convince my drug-dealer, heroin addicted kinda-sorta boyfriend to get clean (even though I knew that's not how it worked). The disease got him, despite my attempts at both attraction and promotion, but as I sat in meetings, I realized that I'd been impacted by the family disease, even though my dad got sober when I was 12. I've shed a lot of tears in Alanon, seeking to unravel what I learned in my family and what needed to be unlearned. After many, many inventories and some years of outside help, today I'm able to reflect on the positives I got growing up instead of focusing on what was missing. I don't have active alcoholism in my life today (thank you Universe!) but I do carry around this brain that can still believe I'm in charge, that it's up to me to fix whatever is out of whack, that if I hang on real tight, everything will be ok. Everything is ok. Always has been, even when it felt otherwise. Thank you Alanon. 

How do you remember that everything is alright, even in the midst of turmoil? Do you sponsor and/or do you have a sponsor? Knowing that relationship looks different in long-term sobriety, what works for you, and as importantly, what doesn't? 

* * *

Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Be-ing vs do-ing

 In a recent Public Broadcasting documentary about the artist Edward Hopper, one of the historians said, "Some people are born as who they're meant to be," implying that he was on his trajectory from the gate. That stuck with me, thinking of all the times I've heard people in the rooms talk about how sobriety has allowed them to become who they were meant to be. What does that mean exactly? Was I not myself when drunk or sticking a needle in my arm, when the substance of the moment was making decisions for me? Like many of us, I grew up being told I had potential. Potential. What does that even mean?  Back then, potential and a few dollars would've bought me a pack of cigarettes and a drink. Potential. There's a lot of pressure in that one word.

Maybe that becoming who we were meant to be has to do with our goals and dreams. I never let myself dream much about the future, knowing my follow-through muscle was sorely lacking. I often go back to the great addiction movie, Boogie Nights, thinking of the two women sitting on the bed, coked to the gills, talking about all the things they planned to do, with the hideous hangover making even getting out of bed a chore. 

So, I kept my world pretty small. I say that, though traveling to faraway places with my boyfriend, but that's as far as it got - the next trip, where should we eat, dare I sneak a wee bit of cocaine in my luggage? But never any plans for myself. Sure, I thought about taking a class, and even did a couple of times, but my boyfriend's schedule took priority. I'm not complaining - it was an exciting time in many ways, and we genuinely cared for each other, but as far as me being me - I didn't even know what that meant.

When I was married to my first husband, in my early twenties, I had a daydream about living on my own, going to college, growing tomatoes in my garden and having friends who were mine, not just because their mates were friends with my spouse. Very simple, and a little sad to think that was all I wanted. And then, a few years into recovery, I realized that I had it. I was going to school, had a group of new friends, and tomatoes in the yard. What else might I achieve if I but dreamed it? For me that meant working in treatment, visiting the Great Wall of China, earning a couple of degrees, running marathons. The Big Book tells me that my wants might not always be granted, but my needs always will. I can say that for me, it's been both, maybe because, over time, my wants have come into line with my needs - still fairly simple, and simpler as time goes on.

What does all that mean today, aging in long term recovery? Way less about achieving and more about being present. I always liked the sound of "I'm a human be-ing, not a human do-ing" and as time goes on, that makes more and more sense. Paying sweet attention to relationships as I bear witness to the fragility of this life; paying attention to the beauty all around me (and seeking that out if there is too much concrete in my days); paying attention to my spiritual practice as I heed the old-timers who came before me saying "The solution to all my problems is spiritual in nature," (recognizing that 99% of my "problems" are mere annoyances).

And so, one day at a time, I will reflect on the "me" I was meant to be to see if there are any remaining gaps. I will pay attention to my surroundings as spring blossoms appear. I will value dear friends and family, even those who's worldviews are different from my own. I will use the slogan, "How Important is It?" to clarify what does and doesn't matter. And, I will plant tomatoes when the time is right.

Do you feel like you've become who you were meant to be? What dreams did you have coming in to recovery? Have you achieved those and/or readjusted? Where are you on the continuum of reaching for achievement and relaxing into what is? What is it you most appreciate today?

* * *

Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Acceptance / Surrender

 An out-of-town family member is in poor health, which raises the question of whether to get on a plane, now or later. It is so easy to move along in life thinking that things will always stay the same. We'll fly to visit twice a year, staying in "our" room, walking to our home-away-from-home group. We might, in passing, acknowledge that no one lives forever, but that isn't our reality, until it is.

Like with my sister-in-law's dementia. She's been in her adult foster home for a number of months now, and does still recognize my brother when he visits several times a week. What a sad thing, to see the one you love fade away. And how terrible to understand that you are the one fading. I suppose at some point, one doesn't know what they don't know, but the initial stages must be devastating.

And, if you're in long-term recovery, by now you've surely lost someone, or several someones, to the disease, to sudden death or a lingering illness, to Alzheimer's or other cognitive decline. One of the developmental tasks of later adulthood is getting comfortable with grief. Comfortable? Maybe more like familiar - familiar as a snarling dog I sometimes pass on my daily walks. I know it will be there, but I still jump when he barks.

A magazine article on change quoted Sylvia Boorstein as saying, "We can struggle or we can surrender...Surrender means wisely accommodating ourselves to what is beyond our control. Getting old, getting sick, dying, losing what is dear to us...is beyond our control. I can either be frightened of life and mad at life - or not."

And therein lies the struggle - right there in the "or not." When a neighbor and I walk together, we'll generally say "hello" or "good morning" to those we pass. We've learned to say, "Or not," when the person, earbuds or no earbuds, ignores our greeting. Or not. We're having a nice walk and can look at the non-reply(s) with humor. 

Can I take that "or not" energy into the rest of my world? A counselor in treatment, in response to the drama of the day, always said, "Oh well." "Oh well," shorthand for surrender to what is, which makes me think of the people I've met through my volunteer gig driving cancer patients to their treatment. To a person, with only one exception, the folks I've interacted with have been cheerful, grateful for another day, appreciative of the small things. 

I remember that feeling in brand-new recovery - the pink cloud of amazement that the sun came up, the flowers bloomed, that I hadn't stuck my head in the toilet the night before. I get glimpses of that sense of wonder, a mere wisp of awe as I look at clouds in the sky (and not just the taillights of the car in front of me). I can talk about mindfulness, but how does one actually pay attention to the little miracles in the everyday? (as I wrote in the Now What? workbook, is "'Expect a Miracle" only for newcomers?) I suppose it has to do with intention, about paying attention, about the infamous pause.   

I am a journaler (no surprise) and in reviewing several past years, I see the theme of the same few character aspects. So, how do I move from "woe is me" to "oh well," from whining to turning it over? I think of the fine line between acceptance and surrender, which are maybe just different sides of the same coin. If I could've changed myself, I would've. I've run marathons and gone to grad school while working full time. I can do hard things. And....apparently I'm not entirely willing to be restored to sanity in all areas. Stubbornness? Lazy? Thinking I can be in control of the continuum of helpful to hurtful if I just try hard enough?

I keep coming back to this theme of persistently troubling characteristics, but isn't that what long term recovery is about, honing in on what persists? I don't know anyone who's yet achieved sainthood - we just keep suiting up and showing up. Perhaps when I can truly view my characteristics as old friends, we can work together, or not. 

How has life on life's terms contributed to who you are today? What program tools do you reach for when you find yourself struggling with what is? How does self-acceptance play into how you work Steps 6 and 7?

* * *

Thinking of a new year's inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Step Two, etc

 And here it is, February, time to focus on Step Two, being restored to sanity. Actually, Step Two is about believing I can be restored. It was pointed out to me that the line, "For by this time sanity will have returned," isn't until the discussion of Step Ten. 

I'll buy that. Despite coming to believe, I was all kinds of insane in the early days and years, mostly around confusion about what I could and couldn't control, which is what still gets me! When working Step Two today, I take a look at how insanity is showing up, as well as asking what would sane behavior or thoughts look like?  And I was taught that talking with another program person about what's going on in my head is a form of Step Two, the Power Greater being exposing whatever it is to the light of day and of reason.

I recently unearthed a magazine from January 2023 that had gotten buried (me who vowed to never give up print journalism now routinely reads newspapers and newsletters online). An article in this new year edition asked a series of questions, some silly and some thought provoking. Oh, how I loved a magazine quiz or questionnaire when I was growing up, those that purported to give insight into one's personality or the future. In retrospect, I see that I was hungry for guidance, for direction, even if from the Ladie's Home Journal. We weren't a church family, I didn't belong to any clubs or anything that would've provided the structure I unconsciously craved, which lead me to permanently borrowing (i.e. stealing) a book from our grade school library called, "Put Your Best Foot Forward," chock full of advice on skin care, wardrobe and how to talk to boys. It was dated by the time I discovered it buried on a shelf, but was my bible for a couple of years. 

I remember feeling so very grateful when I first saw the twelve Steps. OK, grateful and a little apprehensive - I need to do what?? But deep inside I felt the exhale of "Ahhhh, this is what I've been looking for my entire life."  Funny how so much of recovery has been like that - finding something, whether a truth about life or about myself, that I didn't even know I was seeking. But I guess that's how it is with the "ah-ha" moments - I can't force the awakening or surrender, but I can do my best to stay open, one day at a time.

I got to spend time with a dear friend this weekend, a friend since treatment over 38 years ago. As another long-term friend pointed out, we are very fortunate in that we were able to stay sober, and how that lead to staying connected. I live in the town where I hit bottom and have spent my recovery, so perhaps I'm more inclined to connections over time, but part of it is intention. Intention, and picking up the phone for a call or text check-in, at least some contact over the year, though with good, old friends, we can pick up where we left off, no matter how much time has passed. I appreciate shared history, especially as I get older in both recovery and years on the planet. Fortunate indeed.

How do you know when you're crossing the line towards insane behavior or attitudes? Who do you talk with to get back on the beam? How have you incorporated the Steps into how you face the world (and yourself)? Is there a friend you might want to reach out to this week?

* * *

Thinking of a new year's inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Justification

 I'm frustrated with myself this week - frustrated and annoyed. I saw my Primary Care Physician, an overall positive visit, but my blood work had a couple of less than stellar results, results that would undoubtedly improve were I to drop the proverbial 10% of my current weight. Insert big sigh.

I am a tracker, so can look back and see that it was Sept 2020, when I moved from running to walking that my weight started to creep up (creep, recede, leap, and climb). A famous marathoner, Meb Keflezighi, once remarked that he'd have to run six-minute miles to burn the calories from one banana. While I don't even claim to breathe the same air as Meb, I am proof-positive that the body gets accustomed to a particular amount of activity. Were I just starting out, walking three miles would be great. It's still great, but my metabolism wonders what happened to the 10 mile trail runs.

As others my age have said, it's not so much fitting in to my jeans as it is about health and wellness. The kicker is that I've long been secretly and quietly judgmental about those with lifestyle ailments. (I'm still mad that my mom didn't quit smoking when my dad died from tobacco-related cancer.) Judgy, and here I am, with three pudgy fingers pointing back at me.

What does this have to do with recovery? I don't have active alcoholism in my life today, but I do carry around this brain, this brain that sometimes justifies and rationalizes and looks for an out. Staying conscious of my internal machinations keeps me honest. Oh, self, isn't it interesting that you are now suffering from the same choices that you might denigrate in others? Hmmm. How do I right-size myself while acknowledging my humanity, a worker among workers, person among persons?  And how do I keep an eye open for various ways my "ism" tries to find a way in? Spending? Food? Gambling?  Relationships? Over-doing or dishonesty in any form? I've seen too many people open the door of dis-ease, even just a crack, with eventual disastrous results. Stay awake, stay aware.

I read in Alanon literature that self-acceptance is key to change. I can't change anything when my energy is invested in fighting it (whatever "it" may be). So, a deep inhale of "this is where I am today," on a quest of what a friend says, is a mere 5% improvement. 5% is doable, whether that it related to the length of today's walk or tackling a particular character aspect that is troubling. Progress, not perfection, one day at a time.

And always, balance matters. I realized, feeling a little crunchy over the weekend, that I've gone at least two weeks with only appointments on the docket. Of course, an ice storm stifled plans, but I need to remember that I do need people, social people, friends. This is a path I've walked before, so one would think I'd be more aware. One would think - ha! Again, progress not perfection, with progress being that today I notice sooner and can follow the thought trail to the core discomfort. HALT? Yeah, usually, in one form or another. Where can I make a 5% shift today, this week?

Do you harbor any judgements that prove to be a mirror to yourself? How do you move from judgement of self to self-acceptance using the 5% guide? How do the HALTs show up in your life today, and what do you do when you recognize it?

* * *

Thinking of a new year's inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

testing address change

 Another testing 1,2,3    With any luck, and tech support, you should see this post from soberlongtime@soberlongtime.com.

Sorry to fill up your in box!  fingers crossed.

jeanine b

Habits

 As I was waking up from a nap, maybe still dreaming, I thought, "Oh man, I haven't been over to see Mom in awhile," seconds later remembering that she's gone. The mind is interesting - I'll sometimes get the urge to phone her, an automatic response to a beautiful sunset or bad weather. Maybe it's just an old habit, though eleven years after she's passed, you'd think that would've gone away. 

But habit is funny. I recently moved where I keep the kitchen sponge and soap dispenser, and my hand automatically goes to the former spot. The same with our new faucet. For months I'd done a little shimmy of the handle to stop a slow drip. New faucet, no drip, but I continue to adjust the handle. 

Simple examples, but perhaps indicative of human nature, and why, at the beginning of sobriety, we were advised to change playgrounds and playmates. I didn't have any friends who would've pressured me, or teased me about not drinking, but there were a couple of people I needed to take a break from simply because of the mental association. Of course, the meth cook was another story - I was right to emotionally move away from him, though for the first few years, did think I could convince him that getting clean was the way to go. Attraction, not promotion? I tried a little of both, to no avail. Did he ask me to help him? He did ask me to drive him to a methadone program a few times, and could he borrow $50, but never "I want to quit. Will you please help me?"  Hard lessons when someone we love is caught in the disease. 

And back to the Mom dream - as I pulled into the parking lot for my mammogram (results: all clear), I felt a little teary, thinking that maybe Mom showed up to remind me she's with me in spirit. Speaker / member Lila R talks about her higher power being "Ghosts on Demand," comprised of those who've passed on. Maybe? And impossible to know, but I do like the idea that the people I've loved are in my heart and memory. (I've heard that most of us are forgotten by three generations, probably less if we didn't have kids, but I've also heard that no one really dies as long as there is someone who remembers them. I'll keep remembering.)

I've signed up for a five-week online writing course through our local community college. The pre-homework was to list 7 things from our past that symbolize danger, and not something obvious like a gun or a knife. I struggled a little with that one, especially because a gun, sitting on top of the toaster, was part of my hitting bottom. We're supposed to write about one of those danger signals, so it needs to be something I can attach to a story, and how much self-disclosure do I want to do on the first night of class? As a recovering person, the things that represent danger to me might be hair-raising or mean nothing to "normies," but even thinking about my list brings on morbid reflection. A highball glass, a syringe, a phone number on a matchbook cover? Where do I want to go with this non-fiction class?

I remember my first writing class at the same community college, in early1986 or 87. Several of us were in the Alcohol & Drug Counselor Training Program, so when asked to write a short essay on a life-altering experience, ours were gritty (mine was about the meth cook overdosing in my basement). With so much distance now between "what it was like" and "what it's like now," I need a bit of a push to recall that gift of desperation, that hitting bottom so hard I would've done anything for the pain to stop. That is one thing I miss about in-person AA meetings (since most of mine are online) - the random newcomer who shows up with the shakes. I do get reminded of the insanity of addiction in my in-person Alanon meeting. Oh man, the pain and suffering we inflict upon our loved ones. 

This week, our weather is mild, with plain old rain. Last week, literally frozen in, this week skipping down damp sidewalks - yet another life on life's terms reminder that I'm not in charge of anything but my attitude.

What makes up your idea of a higher power, which some call higher self, inner-knowing, spirit, or nothing at all (or all the various theist names)? What old habits linger and what have you released? Where do you stand with personal anonymity? Do people outside of 12 Step know you are in recovery?

Note that I'm still trying to figure out the new vs old email address (shadowsandveins@gmail.com or soberlongtime@soberlongtime.com). It's a process!  And fingers-crossed no interruption in sends.

email address change

 Hello dear Readers. Due to changes in requirements for Google and Yahoo send lists, I've set up a new email: soberlongtime@soberlongtime.com

My blog is nowhere near the 5,000 sends that require the change away from gmail, but I was advised to get a jump on it as best practice, and before I'm told I have to.

Hoping this gets to you, either via shadowsandveins@gmail.com or the new email and that it doesn't end up in your spam folder. I plan to post tomorrow as usual.  Ah, technology (grrrrr)

jeanine b

Respond or react?

 As I began this post on Saturday, we were in the midst of a winter storm, an artic blast that had temperatures at 17 degrees Fahrenheit at noon, with snow and high winds. Not unheard of for the Pacific Northwest, and milder than other parts of the country this weekend, but unusual enough to trigger panic-buying at the grocery store. 

As engagement after engagement canceled, I lay on the couch with the kittens watching snow fall. Rather than be upset, I see that the universe did for me what I don't normally do for myself - i.e. a full-stop on plans. My "slow down" switch has never been fully functional, which is ok once I came to understand and accept that I can be a bit hyper, the better with which to channel my energy rather than fight it.

But today, given the weather, or years on the planet, I'm fairly content to just putter around. Actually, the first day of a winter storm can feel festive - bring out the hot cocoa and movies. If it lingers, cabin fever strikes, which took hubs and I on a short walk the following day, saying "Ain't it grand! The wind stopped blowing!"  

A friend noted that the weather shut-down felt like early pandemic, with streets near empty, glued to the news (how many ways can local broadcasters say, "Stay home. Stay safe."?) A couple of in-person meetings moved to zoom, an example of how AA/Alanon themselves did the nearly immediate pivot to online connection in March 2020 - a tangible example of the Serenity Prayer in action, changing the things we can.  

And so, how do I practice the Serenity Prayer in real life, in all my affairs, especially when annoyed with weather claustrophobia as I remind myself it could be a whole lot worse? Knock wood, we haven't lost power, and haven't had any "musts" for leaving the house (grateful that Monday was the MLK holiday here in the US). Again and always, a matter of perspective - whining at what I can't do, or grateful for a hot cup of tea and a working furnace. Funny that I may not have anywhere to go, but don't tell me I can't!

On another note, one of my regular newsletters this week discussed aging and how we approach the process. Dr. Becca Levy was quoted as saying that moving from a negative to positive mindset can add years to one's life, noting that community can help navigate the unknown. Again and always, grateful for our 12 Step community that offers like-minded and similar aged peers to grouse and celebrate with, as well as those younger and older in order to stay connected to the whole. As far as making peace with aging, the author of the particular article (Chip Conley) suggested asking ourselves what we'd regret not doing or learning 10 years from now. Will I regret not learning Spanish, or not ever getting back to the piano (I stopped playing at age 11 because I couldn't stand practicing while friends were out playing, and yes, my mother was right - I do regret it)? Will I feel sad that I never visited India or Viet Nam?  What about writing fiction? Do I have another book in me, and more importantly, do I care? 

I could pursue the things I listed. What I've learned over time is that if something really matters to me, I'll make choices that take me there. For example, I've long said I'd like a beach place, but have never seriously looked into it. I do have a CD Spanish language course on my shelf - will I follow through? There is something very deceptive about retirement in thinking I have all the time in the world so I'll get to that (whatever that is) later. But do I? My new motto of "later is now" applies to all sorts of things, not just using the nice dishes.

And the beat goes on. I have my first post-cancer treatment mammogram on Thursday, expecting favorable results (as in nothing hinky) but still, a momentary attack of "what if?" In treatment, they used to say, "Yeah, but's live in the Yeahbut Tree" - or, my favorite, "Everything after 'but' is bulls***" I can add to that the "what if's" that live in Whatif Land - far away and unreachable, because it doesn't really exist.

When weather or other things outside your control disrupt your plans, how do you react or respond? How do you utilize the concepts of the Serenity Prayer in your daily life? What comes to mind when you think about the aging process? What might you regret if you never get around to it?

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Thinking of a year-end inventory or a holiday gift for a sponsee? I've restocked my supply of the workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?"  with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Step One

 I frequently say, and often hear others say, that in 12 Step, we need never go through anything alone. Someone else in the rooms has had the same experience that I'm in a twitch about - all I have to do is ask.  

The asking part can be hard as sometimes I'm not really sure what it is I need. I grew up thinking I was supposed to know how to do things, how to be, what the answer was, even when I didn't know the question. I remember early in my first marriage, not wanting to call a friend for instructions on how to cook a certain dish, even though my husband suggested it (or maybe because he suggested it). I was embarrassed not to know, I didn't want to acknowledge a weakness - who knows? I was 19 or 20 and hadn't taken the time to learn to cook at home, so of course I didn't know. I say "of course" but at the time it felt like anything but. 

I am pretty self-sufficient, especially as the sober years and life experience has added up. And...sometimes I simply need to say, "Do you have a few minutes to talk?" or "Can I run something by you?" (both much easier than "I need help.")  Having a sponsor, being a sponsor, answering the phone when a member reaches out all keep me connected to my humanity, my perfectly imperfect self and yours. 

In the January 7 Daily Reflection I'm reminded that half measures availed us nothing. In addressing troubling or annoying (to self or others) character aspects, the reading suggests that "Attempting half measures to eliminate these [characteristics] merely paralyzes my efforts to change." Do I abandon myself or half-ass it? Do I say/think/meditate on "let me be more compassionate and patient today" and then dive into business as usual, or do I say, "Enough with the ego, Jeanine," as I seek to release being quick to judge or offer unsolicited advice? (My primary Alanon lesson is to say to myself, "Did they ask?) I can focus on Lila R's new year message of "pause, pray, proceed" one day at a freaking time. As I may have written before, a friend once said, "I'll have lots of thoughts and feelings during the day - I just don't have to attach a sentence to every one." Indeed.

This week would've been the sober-versary of a good friend, Ruth V, who was a treatment roommate and later lived in my faux-sober house (i.e. a revolving group of sober friends living in my home). She, and our other best friend, were examples of people who would not normally mix. I was 31, he was 21, and Ruth was my mother's age, so in her 60's, but man, did we have fun - reading the daily meditations, driving up and down the I-5 corridor and across state lines to meetings, going to dances and potlucks, taking a trip, not taking a trip - all those exciting activities of the first few years when life felt new.

And it was new. New to be facing life on life's terms sober, grieving losses, walking through fears of the future, hanging on for dear life when the road got bumpy and enjoying the ride when it was smooth. We held meetings in living rooms and on the beach, and once in a van while driving to Montana, pleased with ourselves for having committed How it Works to memory. Those were the days.

Those were the days, and life changes. We/I get older, way less inclined to drive across town for an evening meeting (zoom is so convenient!), less interested in getting to the latest movie or concert, more content with smaller vs larger groups of friends. That being said, I attended a big memorial for a friend's husband this past weekend. I barely knew him, but she and I went to the same high school and have shared many meetings over the years, and as another friend at the service said, "It's what we do" to support each other. The deceased was a biker - not my thing, but still kind of exciting when a long line of Harleys roared up to the church. I've been to a couple of memorials this year already, held almost like AA meetings, with both of the people having knowledge of their pending departure so were able to say what needed to be said and hear the love from others. We should all be so lucky.

January equates to Step One in my Step Group's calendar. What am I powerless over today? Yes, drugs and alcohol - no reservations there - but what else? People, places and things, and in my Step work I'll be specific about those as I sometimes seem to forget that I'm only in charge of me (!).

If you were to do a 10th Step right now, do you see yourself as in the half-measure section in certain areas or all-in? How did your early sobriety experience contribute to who you are today? How will you apply the principles of Step One this day and going forward? How does the concept of acceptance fit in with Step One?

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Thinking of a new year's inventory or small group discussion? Check out my workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

 

Happy sober-versary to me!

 On my way to the bank this week, I took a short cut past the house I lived in when I hit bottom and saw that it is for sale. I pulled over and took a picture of the placard, and have spent time on the realtor site, going room-to-room. There have been several updates, and a lot of paint, but as I go through the photos, I think, "That's where Richard overdosed and I revived him," or "Ah, at the kitchen sink is where my ex told me I'd probably like his new wife" and where I said, "I can't even have that conversation right now." I see the fireplace where I sat on that last New Year's Eve, not really loaded, but far from sober. I also see where we held AA meetings, potlucks in the backyard and impromptu morning check-ins at the kitchen table with sober roommates.

I'm not sure why this has hit me - it's been 38 years now that I hit bottom, and at least 34 since I lived there. I think I had an image in my mind of the rooms being as I left them, seeped in memories, frozen in time. But time doesn't stop. The lilac bush and daphne, smelling so sweetly in the spring, are gone from that backyard. I assume all traces of the basement drug trade are long gone, as are echos of tears shed. 

And, interesting that this foray into times past came during the week preceding my drive to treatment. I don't engage in too much morbid reflection these days, but maybe sometimes a visceral reminder of the absolute insanity of my addiction isn't such a bad thing. I must admit that over time, the "I'm Jeanine and I'm an alcoholic" has lost much of its punch, its connection to the pitiful and incomprehensible, almost like saying, "I'm right-handed" or have brown eyes. Really remembering, and sometimes actually feeling what it was like keeps me tethered to the principles of the program, the daily reprieve. 

And it was insane. An example - the meth cook ran his operation out of my basement, which meant there were often nice, but shady characters coming and going at all hours. At one point, I put a sign up in the bathroom: If you are here at 2am, you need to stay until 6am, in an effort to lessen in-and-out traffic in the middle of the night. Funny how I was later worried what the neighbors might think when a group of us held hands in a circle in the backyard and recited the Serenity Prayer. 

I've been thinking about the meth-cook lover, who despite his own addictions, suggested that, yes, going into treatment might be a good idea, who drove me there and took my car home (I knew my vehicle in the parking lot would make it too easy to leave), and who told me, "No one in this town will sell you dope," when I got out. I sometimes vilify particular characters in my story, but even the so-called bad guys sometimes made good decisions.

We attended the Year-End Roundup this past weekend - always good to hear speakers and see people we only see at conferences. I was able to chair at the Little Yellow House meeting, which seemed fitting just days before my anniversary since Seaside is where I went to treatment (and the Yellow House was my first "real" meeting). On New Year's Day, we listened in on a zoom speaker meeting with Lila R, of Santa Monica and Ireland, with 54 years sober. I always appreciate her views as she talks to the long-timer, which reminds me that "the alcoholic who still suffers" might be the person in the room with the most time.  

And so here we are, in 2024. Having overdone sugar over the holidays (one is too many and a thousand isn't enough) I do plan to focus on healthier eating, but otherwise, don't have a big list of resolutions. My spouse and I did talk about our intentions, as related to health, finances, relationship, program and a broad "other" category - not as a ball and chain, but to put words to ideas and to help frame our direction going forward, knowing that we'll blink a few times and this year will be over! That's a goal - to increase my attention to what I'm doing in the here and now, vs the then or later. Always and again, progress not perfection.

Today is happy sober-versary to me. We are the fortunate ones, by luck, hard work, willingness or a combination thereof, including being in the right place at the right time with the right people. Three people in my Alanon meeting today had just lost someone to fentanyl overdose. The struggle is real, and I hope never to forget that. 

Have you set intentions for the new year, a fresh start? How can you make that list gentle and flexible, rather than rigid and thus easily broken? Are there any areas needing a re-set, whether in self-care, step work or in the workplace? How will you remember to keep it "one day at a time?"

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Thinking of a year-end inventory or a holiday gift for a sponsee? I've restocked my supply of the workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?"  with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) Available in PDF format ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you). Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions.  You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th