Fears vs Trust

 This week I had coffee with two long-time friends from early recovery when we were peas in a pod - meetings, slumber parties, conferences - all the stuff of those exciting days of new sobriety. And, time marches on, with weddings and moves, changing habits (meetings/no meetings), changing activities - and yet, the history is there and the bond is real. Maybe not hang-out-every-weekend real, but still, a definite connection. 

I had no idea when I went into treatment that I'd be making lifelong friends. I'm fortunate enough to have friends I've known since grade school, and my bestie who I met when we were 18. And then the sober pals, some long gone, a handful still in my (digital) address book, though we may only see each other once or twice a year, and those I'm close to that I met in treatment. Grateful that I no longer feel the need to jettison people from my life for one imagined offense or another.

I'm working the Steps with my new AA sponsor, currently on Step 4. She'd asked if I wanted more time for writing inventory - no. These days I put pen to paper and see what flows. Gone are the days when I felt the need to go at my psyche with a pickax. As speaker Lila R points out, if I'm current with Step 10 there likely won't be too much to write about. A couple of resentments, a few fears, but what I mainly do these days is more a narrative of what is troubling me. I find that the act of writing eventually brings me to an understanding of underlying causes and conditions, as well as solutions. As was mentioned in a long-timer's meeting last week, over the years it has become much easier to be gentle with myself. 

Easier to be gentle with myself, and I hope, with those around me. I have a regularly scheduled brunch date with cousins on my dad's side - his half-brother's 2 daughters, their half-sisters, another cousin of theirs by marriage, and sometimes, dad's sister's remaining kids (I say "kids" but we're all in our 70's!). I was close with my immediate cousins, but the others, saw mainly at Christmas. It is nice knowing them as adults, discovering what we have in common (one is an avid fan of Jeopardy on TV, as am I), sharing our sometimes-twisted family sense of humor. None of them are people I see regularly. I don't need to approve or disapprove of their politics, their chosen lifestyle, what they order for lunch. While I crave and thrive on deep conversation, sometimes superficial is just fine, with the occasional deep dive. 

It's vaguely interesting to me that neither my brother or myself, or the two offspring of Dad's half-brother have reproduced (though the rest of the clan made up for it). Are we consciously or unconsciously breaking the chain of alcoholism? Whatever the reason, this particular strain of the family name ends here. Which, goes back to the ongoing conversation about legacy. Does it really matter in the long run? 

And, as the fates would have it, I had to skip the brunch to go to Urgent Care, on the suggestion of the phone advice nurse. In the past I likely would've told myself to ride it out, but as a breast cancer survivor, I pay closer attention to anything that doesn't seem right. As a past distance runner and current semi-distance walker, I nearly always have some aches and pains - the trick is to discern the usual from the unusual. Something felt off, so I made the call and have followed directions since then, with a two more appointments on the docket. More will be revealed, and I'm once again very grateful for good insurance that I know is a huge privilege. 

I will admit to having a hard time falling asleep the night before making the call to the advice nurse, running all sorts of scenarios through my mind, doing my best to rein it in to the Serenity and 3rd Step prayers. I'm not a doctor, so my midnight ruminations are pointless. Yes, powerlessness sucks, and I can strive for the cosmic exhale that comes with surrender, no matter how many times I need to remind myself I'm not in charge. 

And with now one of the appointments done, I can say "Whew!" with the radiologist's "all clear" after a mammogram and a second ultrasound.  I cried tears of relief when she said everything is ok. I've been mostly positive with an underlying dread. I do know that with the principles of the program, I can walk through anything that comes down the pike, and I'm very, very grateful to be over this small speed bump of uncertainty.

How do you stay positive when the whispers of "what it?" work their way in? How do you use the inventory process today? Has there been any change in your ability to be gentle with yourself for characteristics or blunders, real or imagined?  How about with other people?

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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.

Decisions, Aging, Mentors...

 Until something else becomes obvious, the "what's next?" is right here, right now.

I came across the above quote this week and passed it on to a friend who really needs it right now, only to realize that I'm the one who really needs to be reminded of doing the next right thing without trying to polish the (non-existent) crystal ball. This life isn't so much of a mystery that I need to figure out what's behind Door Number 1 or Door Number 2. I'm rarely faced with an either/or decision these days, and if I am, can follow the old adage that if I don't know what to do, don't do anything. What a concept. How many times did I make a hasty decision simply to ease my anxiety? One of my Alanon readers reminds me that "waiting is an action." Breathing, breathing...

In the past week, in three different meetings, three of my elders talked about aging - one with trepidation, one upset at their saggy neck, one with a "Wow - this is a whole new journey." Yes to all three in varying degrees, but especially to the "Wow." Earlier in life I had specific expectations and desires - to have work I enjoyed at least part of the time, to build a loving and healthy partnership, perhaps the next college degree or class. Not that there aren't things I'd like to do, but the striving piece of yesteryear has very much quieted. This aging thing is uncharted territory. Uncharted and so very individual. I can watch those who are further along the path, but as I was told when my mother was dying, "Yes, many of us have been there too, and it is your journey alone." I can very much draw on the wisdom of those who've gone before, and at 3am, it is just me and my brain. Where will I direct my attention?

I'm reading Breaking the Age Code by Becca Levy, subtitled "How your Beliefs About Aging Determine How Long & How Well You Live." I'm not sure that simply believing I'll live to 100 will make it so, but she has some good points about how cultural beliefs and biases influence our thinking, comparing cultures where aging is revered vs US culture which too often focuses on diminishments associated with the later years. I do subscribe to the philosophy that our thoughts influence our world and am very grateful that I didn't hear much complaining from my older relations. I don't recall my mother or my closest aunt saying much negative about getting older. What they did talk about was how much they'd enjoyed their 50's and that the 60's were even better. Maybe they felt the same about their 70's as well. By their 80's, there were some illnesses, which definitely shifts one's world view, but both traveled that path with grace and dignity, my aunt once saying, "Well you didn't think I was going to live forever, did you?!" Actually, I'd kind of hoped...

One of my (non-program) daily readers this week spoke to gratitude for the support we received from teachers or mentors earlier in life. I scratch my head at that one. In grade school, I was more often chastised than encouraged, in trouble for eating candy in class, cussing, not sitting still, talking out of turn, with one memorable, "You have so much potential..." lecture. In high school, I had teachers I liked more than others, but none felt like a mentor - big classes full of baby boomers, me running off for a cigarette or a joint whenever possible. 

In sobriety, of course, another story, with sponsors and trusted others and those of wise-words in meetings. In my younger years, especially as a young wife with zero homemaking skills, I was embarrassed to ask for help, thinking I was "supposed" to know even if I hadn't been taught. Through recovery, I developed into a fairly competent person, evident when I was in treatment for breast cancer. Friends asked how they could help after surgery, but by then I'd made a pot of soup and figured I'd mostly sleep. A good friend said it wasn't that I was resistant to asking for help, but more that I couldn't imagine for what. I don't think that is a character defense - when my husband and first husband were both diagnosed with cancer in the same month, I definitely asked for help - from my employer, for rides to treatment, someone for me to process with. So, situation dependent. (That's what I'm telling myself anyway!)

This Sunday I walked to my former home group, now re-attending, on a glorious autumn day with leaves in full splendor as the sun began to set. For me, this time of year makes it so much easier to be in the moment, reveling in nature's beauty, her final show of leaves seemingly lit from within before winter's darkness. I appreciate the seasons, with the opportunity to pay attention to both my surroundings and my heart. One day at a time, the beat goes on.

What are your core beliefs around the aging process? Did, or do you have elders you'd consider role models? What are their qualities that you appreciate? What about mentors or teachers, either before or after recovery? As someone with long term sobriety, how are you a mentor or guide for others?

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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.

Friends

We spent a long weekend with my spouse's family in the Bay Area last week, celebrating a group of birthdays, including the patriarch's 96th. What a world of change he's seen in his lifetime, as have we all. And what joy in watching the little ones grow!  And, what a joy to connect with our AA family while there, hitting a few meetings, along with those precious meeting-after-the-meeting conversations.  

I was invited to do an Alanon lead while there, with a focus on Tradition 10, no opinion on outside issues. On the surface, "obviously," thinking of religion and politics, but as I dug a bit deeper, I read how those outside issues are really anything outside my hula hoop, which seems to get smaller the longer I'm around! Dang it. But I have so many opinions and ideas! In the breakout circle after my share, a member said they have strong opinions about things they don't even care about. Whew! That certainly hit home. How often do I have an almost automatic response to something I know very little about, or that really doesn't concern me?! Judging by commentary on online posts, I'm not alone in that. One more time, the pause is invaluable.

We were very fortunate to host my best friend and his other best friend for the night as part of the return from his cross-country move of a few years ago. We had a little breakfast party before they headed out, with two friends joining who hadn't met the other bestie in real life. Like with our Bay Area pals, I'm gratified and grateful at the depth of relationships I've developed over zoom, all the sweeter when we can gather in person. We are people who normally would not mix, or more likely, would never have crossed paths were it not for recovery. And how sweet to share a meal with people I've now know for decades, including three of us who were in treatment together, and one I 12-stepped before she turned 21. 

And isn't it funny, that term "best friend." When I was a kid, say 7th or 8th grade, that was a specific designation. I remember feeling hurt one day when my cousin announced that the person I thought was my best friend was now her best friend. We had a lot to learn about relationships in those days, and I suppose hurt feelings were part of the process. Many, many years later a different cousin told me how her feelings were hurt when I got my first serious boyfriend and she moved to second fiddle. It wasn't until I got sober that I learned how to truly be a friend, not just when it was convenient. not just one-sided, and that I can have multiple "best friends" as can my friends.  And when I do feel left out, or jealous of other's relationships, I can remind myself that there is enough love, friendship and attention for us all. Isn't growing up wonderful (said only slightly sarcastically)? It might've been simpler when age appropriate, but so much more interesting (and sometimes painful) at an age I can be aware of what's going on inside me. 

It's been a wonderful, though slightly hectic few weeks, with my car in the shop, travel, then home to furious housecleaning for our guests (apparently we should have company more often!), an NBA game, brunch with friends, and hubs back to work. In my working days, sometimes going back to the office felt like a rest after an active vacation. I am grateful for a full and rich life, and need to remember that it is the quiet days of routine that give texture to the whole of it.

How big is your hula hoop? What are some situations that could be considered an outside issue? Do you have a best friend? How does that feel different than when you were younger? How do you find or maintain balance between active and more passive pursuits? 

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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Legacy

 A good friend has suggested I write about legacy, as in, what do we leave behind, who remembers us and what impressions do they have, along with the big one, "How important is it that we are remembered?" Philosophers and great thinkers through the ages have contemplated that one. We're the only species that thinks about being remembered - the human ego on full display. Does it matter to anyone but me and maybe their loved ones that I speak about my AA forebearers (like Leonard C and Norm B)? Once all my worldly possessions are disposed of in one way or another, does it really matter if people remember me? In theory, I won't know. Maybe it's that whole piece of wanting to have mattered in some way - the existential question of the meaning of life. I didn't reproduce, or write the Great American Novel. I didn't cure cancer or fix any social ills. I do hope that my actions have left the world just a wee bit better, through my profession or my interactions... And, as I contemplate my upcoming 40th anniversary (no fronts!), would it be so bad to be remembered as someone who gave great parties? 

While noting the long and important life of Dr. Jane Goodall, I was reassured by something she is reported to have said  - There is either nothing, or something after death. If nothing, then nothing and it is done. If something (and she believes so), she looks forward to the adventure of finding out.

Psychologist Erik Erikson's theory of human development described middle adulthood as a time of "Generativity vs Stagnation" when people create or nurture things that will outlast them with late adulthood (65 - death) as the time of Integrity vs Despair, when we, in theory anyway, reflect on our lives with either acceptance or regret. I very definitely have fewer regrets today than I would've before sobriety. I do sometimes contemplate if there is anything I'd regret not having done when the end comes. Not a "bucket list" per se, but more about a way of being.

I am thinking more and more about the end - probably fairly normal "as we age" (and why is it so often much younger doctors who use that phrase?!). I've taken to pointing things out to my spouse, with an "If I go first____" lead in. I used to tell my mom that I didn't want any lingering illness from her. It had been so painful watching my father die, compounded by this non-talkative man having had his larynx removed due to tobacco related cancer. With my mother, as excruciating the long-good bye was (she was on hospice over 8 months), it was good being able to say all that needed to be said, and start at least thinking about the business end of things. And, we don't get to choose, unless of course, we do, and that's a whole 'nother topic.

And, today is today. I can plan ahead, whether for the next trip or the final one, while being firmly planted in the here and now. I've re-started a meditation practice, using guided imagery, which helps me focus. On Sunday, I walked a half-marathon (13.1 miles) on a glorious fall day here in Portland, chatting with folks along the way, eliciting some "Happy Birthday's" when I pointed out I'm celebrating turning 71. Who would've thought, when I could barely make it up the stairs at my home group in 1986 that I'd be reasonably healthy and still moving all these years later? One day at a time, one step at a time, one decision at a time. 

What might you hope your legacy to be? Are there dreams or goals you want to attend to? How does Jane Goodall's statement about dying strike you? How does your spiritual program guide your days?

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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Hindsight

 My sometimes walking route takes me past the apartment I moved into when I left my first husband. I was 23, had never lived on my own before, and well into daily drinking, along with the poor decision making that went along with that (cue disco music). I probably kept the apartment for close to a year, though only lived there for maybe 6 months. When my new boyfriend came home from an extended family/business trip, I essentially moved in with him.

I wasn't much of a blackout drinker, yet I have very few actual memories of my time in the apartment. I remember my dad going with me to buy my first car (a Chevy Nova) and the driving school instructor coming over for my lessons. I remember awful hangovers, hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock 3  or 4 times, groggily downing an Instant Breakfast with toast while reading the comics and Dear Abby, then walking to work about a mile away. A non-alcoholic friend from school was a runner, knocking on the door a few times in the early morning so I could join her, stopping after one too many sleepy (i.e. hungover) groans through the screen door that I couldn't go. 

In hindsight, that all-knowing, all-seeing oracle, I sure wish I'd lived on my own, and maybe gone to college before getting married - though if I'd done either, I probably wouldn't have gotten married at all. I was very competent in the workplace back then, but had such limited maturity in the realm of relationships. I can be grateful to have survived, to have not gone home with the wrong stranger, to have never wrecked a car.

At one of my Alanon meetings this week, the topic was "love," with the sad awareness that love isn't enough to save someone from addiction. As people shared, I realized that, as a kid, I confused love with pity, with the illusion of control, or performance, as in "if I do this, that or the other thing, the person I love will be OK." In reality, love has to do with respecting another's decisions, no matter how stupid those may seem. My heroin addicted boyfriend died of an overdose. All the "love" in the world couldn't change his unwillingness or inability to accept his powerlessness. Love can mean trust, as in trusting that you know what is best for yourself in the moment. I don't have to agree. 

And a huge piece of recovery has to do with learning to love myself enough to stay in my lane, to understand on a gut level that my dad's alcoholism wasn't my fault, to have compassion for others without trying to be in charge. Loving myself means paying attention to the still, small voice that I used to try to outrun or ignore, the voice that said, "Ah, not a good idea," while I went ahead anyway. Loving myself these days means respecting the HALTS, paying attention to bodily changes without being paranoid, following routines that work for me while being flexible when circumstances warrant. The saying we've heard a thousand times - let us love you until you can love yourself - seemed so very corny, especially since I had no idea what it meant. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly...

I've been to a couple of in-person meetings this past week, one my long time (and long ago) home group that I intend to continue. It's at the same church, in a different room (with a working fireplace), and only one guy from back in the day - and that guy just celebrated 42 years. Between the pandemic and getting older (!) I've gotten very comfortable with my online connections. And, in-person meetings allow for more spontaneous interactions, and real life hugs. 

Name three things you're grateful for today. Is there a person or situation that you might need to release? What did "Let us love you until you can love yourself?" mean to you at the beginning? Now? 

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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area