Keep calm and carry on

 Short post today... all I can muster.

In my elections gig, we go out and assist voters who have requested help in one form or another (sight issues and the like). This past week, we visited a woman who needed us to read her the ballot, the old fashioned way vs computerized. As we wrapped up, she said, with tears in her eyes, that this was likely her last time to vote as her physician has given her six months or less to live, due to cancer. She whispered, "I'm not ready to go," as we hugged and cried with her. 

I'm not ready to go. My mother said something similar when she was placed under hospice care, saying "They don't know!" that it would be six months or less. I did my best to let her process the end of life in her way and time, thinking, "Ah, she is not going to go quietly into the night." As she neared the end, with me praying that she go gently. she seemed to make her peace with it, but what a thing to be told, that the end is nigh.

Of course, in reality, while none of us actually know when, I do hope to go in peace when it's my time. I've had good examples of that in program friends and acquaintances who've passed, showing fear, strength, courage, uncertainty and fortitude, as well as demonstrating the principles of the program. As in all things, I learn from the example of others.

Speaking of the principles, we've had an election here in the States, and you may be mourning or celebrating depending on your views. AA/Alanon has no opinion on outside issues, and this is definitely one. However, I'm a human being and I do have opinions and emotions. What I know, as a long-term member of the fellowship, is that my prime directive, whenever strong emotions threaten my peace of mind, is to get centered and calm my heart. Whether my upset (positive or negative) comes from affairs of the world or nation, from family or friends, or my own internal machinations, I can first and foremost acknowledge and honor my feelings, and then do what I need to do to return to a place of calm. 

I am powerless over so much - drugs and alcohol once in my system for sure, as well as people, places and things. I don't always like that, but reality is reality. One of the many spiritual books I've read used the term, "Focus on that which abides," which likely means different things to different people. For me, much of what abides has to do with love, with family, with close friends, and recovery. It's aboutsuiting up and showing up, even in uncertain times. Today I had my cup of tea and went for a walk, quiet nods to those I passed on the way. I'm making soup, and will hit a meeting at noon then meet with a sponsee. I will regulate my social media and news ingestion, knowing that some of my loved ones are very sad and some are very happy. And the beat goes on, one day at a time.

What do you do when the news of the day intrudes on your peace of mind? How do you find, or return, to center when emotions run high? How are you an example of the program, today and all 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 hard copy mailed to you). Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. And a reminder that the workbook, is available at the Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th. for local folks.

Holding still

 "I lived when simply waiting was a large part of ordinary life: when we waited, gathered around a crackling radio, to hear the infinitely far-away voice of the king of England… I live now when we fuss if our computer can’t bring us everything we want instantly." Ursula LeGuin

I try to be mindful of society's push towards filling every minute, of hurry, hurry, hurry. I don't wear earbuds when out walking (trust me, I don't need another voice in my head) and when waiting in line, at the post office or grocery store, intentionally do not pull out my phone. Simply standing still is ok. I'll never forget an incarcerated man I worked with in treatment, telling me how, the last time he'd been "on the outs" (i.e. free) he'd gone to the mall and was appalled at people in the Food Court, all staring at their phones. "It was like they were zombies, Ms B!" he said, not too far off.

I'd be the last to say I don't appreciate the convenience of having the world's information at my fingertips, though I am grateful to have grown up in the age of encyclopedias and card catalogs, dictionaries and reference books (as kids, we favored the "D" encyclopedia volume for dolls and dogs). Sure, finding stuff out was sometimes challenging, but I liked having found something on my own, and making it my own by the search, reading, and maybe writing about it. It seems that these days, we don't need to know things - just how to ask Google.  OK, old person rant for the week!

I just picked up a new book, Still Life at Eighty - the next interesting thing, by Abigail Thomas. I used to slightly resent being a late Baby Boomer, realizing that most of the insights and ah-ha moments related to my generation had happened a few years prior to my coming up to the questions. Kind of like when an old-timer in AA would say, "You're right where you're supposed to be!" God, I hated that. It's my journey, you old fart! Don't tell me I'm supposed to be this confused! But, as time goes on, I'm grateful for those who've gone before, those slightly ahead on the path of life and/or recovery.  I've never been an old person before. I know what that looks like on the outside, but what does it feel like? 

Thomas writes about the present being interrupted by vivid memory, that human capability of living in two places at once - past and present. A friend has reminded me that the past, joys and sorrows, experiences and regrets, all transpired to create who we are today - of course I have memories, some stronger than others, some appearing in a wisp and some driving a bulldozer. Somewhere I read that when our bodies become frail, it is our memories that will sustain and entertain us, and I certainly have a lot of them. I'm so very grateful for years of solid recovery and positive memories, as well as the painful ones that remind me to stay on the path. 

During a breakup, probably twenty years ago now, my mother expressed her sadness at my difficult life, citing Dad's death, my divorce, another hard breakup, addiction. I was taken aback. Yes, I was sad/scared/overwhelmed by the current situation, but since getting sober, my life had been stellar, with college, travel, and great friends, finally coming into who I was supposed to be. I shared that with her, sad myself that what she saw was the darkness when I'd been living in the light for eighteen or so years at that point. Perception, focus - where do I point my attention today?

And here we are, October nearly over. Have I kept my vow to myself to be present, to be mindful and truly inhabit my days rather than whoosh on through? Kinda, sorta. It's been a full month, with travel, birthday, a half marathon, the little forehead procedure... and time seems to move quickly, though maybe less so when I'm paying attention. My elections work will be over next week, and Sunday we turn back the clocks so it will be dark here in the Pacific NW by 5pm. I don't mind the change of seasons, the cozy darkness, and the reminder of transition - from busy to less so, from daylight to darkness, from sunscreen to warm sweaters, from shivering denizen to happy, joyous and free. It look me a long time to realize that life is transition, subtle and not so subtle shifts in circumstance, as well as my internal thermometer. One day at a time turns out to be a gift, not an empty platitude.

Where do you place yourself in the "hurry-up" world? Are you able to step off the treadmill and relish the moments as they come? How do you fill the empty space when waiting in line? Whether you are pro or con the time change, how do you relax into the transition while taking care of yourself?

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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 hard copy mailed to you). Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. And a reminder that the workbook, is available at the Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th. for local folks.

One day at a time, now and always

 I was very happy to hear that the person I wrote about last week kept an appointment with an outpatient treatment provider, and is feeling a sense of relief. Such good news, and hopeful for the different options available. I often remember to be grateful that I got sober when I did, not having to face ice baths, asylums, or a lobotomy as a "cure." In the mid-1960's, my dad underwent shock treatment, with the erroneous thinking that if his depression was dealt with, he'd stop drinking. Funny enough (not actually funny), it was the opposite. When he quit drinking, his depression lifted. We haven't heard anything more from our friend, so they've either stopped drinking or not. What I've long been told is, "where there's life, there's hope." They know where we are, and who we are, so we can await their questions.

From personal experience, I do know there is something magical in picking up the phone, whether it's to make an appointment with a therapist, or talk with a friend or sponsor. It's that internal surrender, even if I haven't yet spoken it aloud, that triggers the cosmic exhale of dropping the rock of "figure it out," "I've got this," "I should be able to fix this myself." Asking for help is still not my initial reaction, but such a relief when I do.

I'm reading a rather dense book, A World Lit Only by Fire - the Medieval Mind and the Renaissance, by William Manchester - interesting to imagine difficult life in Europe in the Dark Ages. In discussing the hindsight signs that changes (the Renaissance) were ahead, when people had no frame of reference for the future. Manchester says, "Like all people at all times, they were confronted each day by the present, which always arrives in a promiscuous rush, with the significant, the trivial, the profound and the fatuous all tangled together" (p. 26). What a good reminder! In the space of a couple of hours, I can be visited by grief, hilarity, and depth. While my friend is confronting the realities of drinking too much, another is celebrating a clean bill of health, while yet another is awaiting a pathology report. Another friend is again counting days, while another is mourning the death of a long-time pet. I can picture a friend in Ireland doing yoga in the living room while I'm fast asleep, or another in Pakistan making a cup of tea while I'm living the details of my daily life. Simultaneous and parallel lives, intertwining or on different tracks all together.  

In the simultaneous lives department, I had a procedure this week - a basal cell carcinoma removed from my forehead. Not fun, but the milder form of skin cancer, and I've had several of the same surgeries, so wasn't worried. While sitting in the designated area awaiting the pathology report, I was struck by the temporary community gathered in that room - 9 or 10 oldsters, bandages on noses or chins (or foreheads), initially silent, but venturing into conversation as the morning wore on, snacks coming out, a few naps. And then, we all went our separate ways, unlike the community of shared histories we find in 12 Step programs. Classrooms, workplaces, various waiting rooms for car maintenance or medical stuff contain the framework of being "in this together," but not the deeper bond of shared pain, history and joy that we have in AA/Alanon. When entering a waiting room, for instance, I do a scan, noticing who's talking, who's not, and generally, will dive into the book I've brought along. When walking into a meeting just about anywhere, I have an almost immediate sense of belonging and of being welcomed, even if only with a smile or an invitation to take the empty seat. 

My step-pop's brother, aged 95, died on the 6th, though I just found out - he lived out of state, and the nephew designated to let me know, didn't. This faux-uncle was a really good guy, sweet, funny, and kind. He was a talker, boy howdy, so I only phoned when I had thirty or more minutes to spare, but what's half an hour? I'm reminded of something my instructor said years ago when I first started working in treatment and had deadlines to get X number of intakes done in a day. She gently reminded me, "You may have six more assignments to get through, but this is likely the only thing the person sitting in front of you has to do, and may very well be the first time they've done this." In other words, slow your roll, Jeanine. Being task-oriented is great, but that can be tempered with people-orientation. My Elections supervisor always reminds us, "You are made of time," when we go out to assist a voter. 

You are made of time. An odd saying particular to this boss, but something I can absorb. I often have an agenda, a schedule, and... save plane boarding, a ticketed performance, or an appointment, most of what I do on any given day can be adjusted. I have preferences - walking early, after my first cup of tea for example - but I'm also perfectly capable of walking after breakfast or lunch. Good for me to remember when I get into "This is how it should be" mode (beware the lurking "should").

And so, here in the US, a national election looms as I try to be mindful of balance, that desire to stay informed without becoming obsessed with the rollercoaster of polling data. Like the early AA's who went off to war and kept their sobriety, my challenge is to keep spiritual principles at the forefront, knowing I have the tools to deal with whatever comes down the pike. A quote I jotted down from a meeting share - Don't ask for guidance but ask to be open to guidance. I have particular outcomes I'd like to see, would like skywriting telling me what to do if A, B or C occurs, and...  I can remember this one-day-at-a-time business. Right here, right now, all is well. As a counselor reminded us, way back in early 1986, I've had enough to eat today and I know where I'll be sleeping tonight, and in that, I am fortunate indeed. So, turn off the TV, go for a walk, look up at the sky, and remember what matters, which today is peace of mind.

Is there anything in your life that might benefit from asking for help, personally or professionally? What emotions and situations are visiting this week, not always one at a time? How do you balance tasks with relationships, relaxation or spiritual connections? How do you detach from world events while staying appropriately engaged in this human life?

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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 hard copy mailed to you). Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. And a reminder that the workbook, is available at the Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th. for local folks.

Glimmers

 This past week, someone reminded me of the concept of "glimmers" - those sweet moments that often go unnoticed. I'm certainly aware of triggers, or annoyances, but how often do the small beauties pass by? Leaves changing colors, a child's shy smile, a kitten's cuddle, a tasty bowl of oatmeal, a text from a friend - all can be occasions to exhale into the joys of life. Note to self - pay attention.

We just spent a few days with my spouse's family - always good, this time even more meaningful with his step-dad's 95th birthday celebration. I piggybacked my own 70th birthday the day before, with a family meal and my free birthday Starbucks (!), and a very sweet and meaningful meeting and coffee after (complete with a Happy Birthday to You song and candles) with our home-away-from-home group friends. I do truly love and appreciate my husband's people, and feel the same about the AA family that we've been pals with from in-person visits over the past 10+ years, and now weekly via a zoom group we all attend. Family of chance and family of choice - I'm fortunate in both departments. And funny enough, at another in-person meeting last week, I (of course) mentioned my 70th birthday. Afterwards, a beautiful woman came up and told me that she is 78, laughing that in recovery we don't necessarily look our age, or act our age - whatever that means. It certainly isn't what I'd expected.

A good friend reads Tarot cards as her alter-ego, Tarot Card Lady, and I was gifted a reading for my birthday. The Tarot is spiritual in nature, not fortune-telling, and my cards were overall positive for this stage of life, whether we're talking this year of turning 70, or the coming decade (the cards don't operate on clock time like we mere mortals). I sometimes use the Runes, too, as a means to help me remember what it is I need to know, i.e. that I am ok and can drop the now small rock of self-criticism, that I can handle whatever comes my way, that love really is the answer.

I recently came up close and personal with the disease in action. Of course I interact with newcomers at meetings, but this was someone I know personally, who's in that contemplation stage of "Maybe I do have a problem," where it feels like 1,000 miles across the chasm of denial and bargaining ("I at least want to cut down"). Oh man. Here in the bubble of long-term sobriety, I can almost forget the shame and disbelief, the fear that I'd never have fun again, and what will people think??  I can be supportive while doing my best to stay one step behind the person rather than trying to drag them forward to where they haven't yet been, remembering how weird the notion of not drinking or using seemed at first. Even "one day at a time" sounded daunting, like a trick of some sort. I'll never forget the old-timer at one of my early meetings, surveying the room, saying, "Don't let this one day at a time crap fool you - we're talking about the rest of your god damned lives." Well then.

And so, what will I do with the rest of my g.d. life, today? My seasonal elections work is about to ignite, there are house and yard chores to do before the weather turns, and a desk overflowing with bits of paper and things to be filed. And in the meantime, I walk in the mornings, secretary a couple of online groups, connect with friends. This week I'll mail off some Alanon literature to the spouse of the person newly acknowledging their alcoholism, hoping, hoping, hoping that something in the world of recovery clicks for both of them.

What "glimmers" do you notice?  How does the family of choice/family of chance play out in your life today? Do the people you care about know that you do? How do you carry the message of recovery, and is that different with a stranger or a loved one?

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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 hard copy mailed to you). Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. And a reminder that the workbook, is available at the Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th. for local folks.