In Speaking of Faith, by Krista Tippett, a book I picked up at a neighborhood kiosk, she mentions Einstein pointing to the theory, or fact, that "time and the experiences it holds and the wisdom it imparts work more like circles than lines" (p.12). Exactly. I've long realized that life's lessons come as a spiral. I may think I've dealt with a certain memory or characteristic, only to have it circle back around - sometimes with more strength, but usually the intensity is lessened because, ah yes, I've been here before. That certainly is true this time of year, with memories of that final (I hope) skid to the bottom.
We attended the End of Year Round-up at the Oregon coast this weekend - very light attendance, likely due to the date change (earlier in the month than usual) and weather, with a lot of flooding here in the northwest. In addition to hearing inspiring speakers, I got to chair the 8am meeting at the Little Yellow House, a few blocks from the conference - the first place I attended a "real" AA meeting as my treatment stay wound down (staff let a couple of us near-grads go). My uncle was a long-time member there. When I first saw him in a meeting, I said, "You never saw me drunk, but I sure saw you - and you're in the right place!" Both he and his mother had decades of sobriety before they died (I was given her 2nd edition Big Book - I didn't know her well, but it's fun to see her margin notes).
All weekend, I found myself breathing in waves of emotion, starting with passing the pull-out along the highway where I stopped on my way to treatment to shoot up for the last time. Did I know it would be the last time? Part of me figured I was getting the heat off by going in to treatment, a time out, but there must've been a tiny nugget in my soul that whispered, "You're done." Forever grateful that was the voice I heeded, once I saw what not-drinking could mean (not stupid, boring and glum by any means).
And, 'tis the season for memories galore. My former sister-in-law in the UK, who I've stayed in touch with over the decades, just sent me contact information for someone we've wondered about over the years - an Iranian man who was a friend and business associate of my ex and his brother. This guy was a lot of fun in what was a crazy and frenetic time. Whenever I hear Van Morrison's song, Wavelength, I picture him, my boyfriend and me driving around Beverly Hills smoking a joint, singing along at the top of our lungs. For these Middle Easterners, the Voice of America that Van sings about, was real, a link to a more open world they longed for as teenagers. It's been fun to exchange emails, with a vow to talk after the holidays. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and everything in between. So good to connect with someone who was there.
This guy was also the first person to suggest I carry a bag of nuts or other small snack for those times my blood sugar tanked, noticing I got a bit cranky when hungry - which happened a fair amount when traveling with my ex's family and large entourage. Who knew? In those days, I seemed to know drunk and not drunk, barely in tune with my heart or my body. Interesting that others seemed to know me better than I knew myself. Again, grateful to have developed an understanding of what makes me tick, physically as well as emotionally, and how I best operate in the world (as in HALTS).
The Alanon speaker at the conference shared what her sponsor said: "If a sentence doesn't have your name in it, it's none of your business." Brilliant. When I say, or think, "He should _____" or "Why doesn't she ______" and the like, I'm in None of My Business Land. Quitting drinking is one thing, but man oh man, quitting efforts to control and influence people and outcomes is quite another thing altogether. which is why I'll keep coming back to both programs.
And today is Christmas Eve. I can almost touch the sense of wonder and excitement I felt as a kid, the anticipation of Santa's visit. For all that may have been lacking (my perception), there wasn't any drama at our family holidays. Dad may have been hungover, and maybe there was a nip of something or other in his coffee cup, but Christmas morning was a sweet time of parents on the couch, and my brother and I tearing into our meager gifts. I remember when they gave me a typewriter (7th or 8th grade?). Reading was such a pleasure that I wanted to tell a story that took people to another world, never guessing I'd have to nearly die in order to gather material for my novel, Shadows and Veins. A good reminder that I rarely know how today's events and experiences will inform what's ahead.
Happy Solstice, Happy Hannukah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza, or as Seinfeld said, "Happy Festivus for the rest of us." I celebrate love and recovery, family and friends, and the incremental return of the light, one day at a time.
How has your self-care been this month? Any areas that would benefit from extra attention? Whether from childhood or perhaps your recovery years, what is a warm memory you can call on if the sad times are talking to you? And a gratitude list is always a good idea. I am grateful to you, dear reader, and for this now nearly archaic form of sharing the joys and challenges of long term sobriety.
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Time for a year end inventory? 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
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