Later is now...

  

                When we understand that each day isn't one more day but one less, we'll start giving more value to the things that truly matter.                     (FB/BuddhismPage)

I've been thinking about the whole Pippi Longstocking thing since she popped into my mind - attempting to channel her positive and inquisitive nature on my morning walks, for example. How might she view the world, vs my sometimes cranky outlook born of my HALTS being out of whack? 

I so often read about how in retirement transition or lifestyle changes, one can look back to what they wanted to do as a child for clues to the "now what?" question. My concrete brain thought they meant specifics, like "I've always wanted to be a concert pianist" or "I wish I'd worked as a florist" etc. and I didn't have that. I'd wanted to write a book (check - Shadows & Veins, available online), I wanted to be a secretary out of admiration for my aunt's glamorous wardrobe (I've done my share of clerical work, with or without nice clothes); I wanted to be a teacher (much of my work in treatment involved teaching). But I didn't go through life wishing I was sitting at a different desk.  I came from a fairly average middle class family (if average includes alcoholism) and had fairly average, if modest, dreams.

And then there's Pippi, or her cousin, Ms. Wanderlust, though my version always includes coming home. Maybe that piece of looking to our younger dreams for direction has more to do with attitude and orientation. Maybe it's more about "how do I want to be" vs "what do I want to do?" And OMG, how long has it taken me to get that?? Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly.

The re-siding construction project on our house was supposed to wrap up after three weeks of incessant banging, us with window shades drawn, and cats under the bed, but wouldn't you know it, a big chunk of rotted wood was discovered. Groan...  Time and money and the joys of being a homeowner. And trusting that it all works out. I suppose we could ignore it, or I could worry and fret, or... I can be an adult and know that stuff happens. 

The Project Manager teased my spouse and I, commenting that big home projects are often a source of consternation for couples. Ah yes, another f***ing growth opportunity for two sometimes bossy people. However, a long-term marriage is sort of like long-term recovery - we are quicker to recognize our personal triggers, own our part and move on. Team work makes the dream work.

In addition to my regular journal, I have a small 5-year volume I picked up at the start of my cancer treatment, now three years ago. Each day, one is to simply make a brief  note of the day's events. Wouldn't you know it, exactly one year ago, I wrote about de-cluttering my desk, which is what I did this week. OK, some things need to be done periodically, but how long am I going to write about decluttering before I feel satisfied I've done it? If I shift my mind set to "one less day" and can do so without panic, I can focus on what I say matters. So, a clean desk doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but leaving my papers in such a way to be less hassle for those left behind does. (An early supervisor once said, "Always leave your desk as if you'll be hit by a truck tonight." A scary thought, but I can tell you it was no fun cleaning up after someone who left the workplace abruptly, with files buried in a bottom drawer or a drawer full of opened snacks in another.)   Borrowing from Marie Kondo, as I go through various closets or look at shelves, I am asking, "Do I use this?" and/or "Does it spark joy?" or is it just something that I've held on to for no reason whatsoever? Maybe it had meaning at one time, but if I can't remember what that was, into the donation box it goes. 

That makes my think of my mother, an Avon Lady for decades. As a top seller, she had a collection of prize figurines. At one point, someone offered her $200 for one, so she, and we, thought we were sitting on a gold mine. A year or so after she passed, I put in a call to her former manager and was told, "Oh honey, nobody wants those dust-catchers anymore. You'd be lucky to get $5 or $10." Which reinforces my motto, "Later is now!" So, wear the pearls (that no jeweler wants to buy), use the good dishes (that no relatives want), read the "maybe someday" books (or add them to a local kiosk).

What does all this have to do with long-term sobriety? Life on life's terms stuff,  practicing the principles, doing my best to stay in today and determine what really matters. One more day, or one less? It's all about perspective. 

With long term recovery, is how you want to be in the world congruent with how you are most days? What are the growth opportunities that are coming up for you this week? Are there things, adventures, books, projects, etc that you're saving for later? Is later now for some of that?

   * * * * * *

Time for a new year 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 table.

the grand adventure

 I don't consider myself agnostic, but I do appreciate a lot of what is published on the weekly AA Agnostica page (substack).This last week (1/4/26), guest author Paul Pellet compared our alcoholic recovery to the classic hero's journey, noting that not much in AA is actually new, but draws on wisdom from many sources. Joseph Campbell also wrote about the hero's journey and how we all have times in our lives that take us on a archetypal path.

The first part of the journey is about separation, leaving the known, not sure of what lies ahead. That was certainly true for me - I understood that how I was living wasn't working, so took a leap of faith by turning my will and my life over to a treatment program, having no idea what a sober life could be.

Next comes the liminal state, the in-between where we've let go of the old but haven't quite grasped the new - the monkey bar analogy a past therapist used where I've let go of one rung, momentarily in mid-air. For me, this was the scary but exhilarating time of discovery, of following direction because I didn't have any better ideas, the "take what you like and leave the rest" adventure to see what worked for me. 

And then we return - to our daily lives, jobs, family, etc,  now able to guide others through the process, with rites and rituals in the sharing of our stories.

I've long appreciated the ritual aspect of our program. I can be in any meeting,, anywhere, and find comfort in the cadence of the Steps (even if I don't speak the language), the knowing that the meeting will follow a general, recognizable format. Even if I'm not actively listening, I can feel safe with the rhythm of the process. 

And that feeling of safety can often lead to tears, like in my Alanon meeting when the mere act of sitting in the circle brought tears to the surface as I thought about my brother and loss and the passage of time. I'd just visited with him after he'd been to pick up his wife's cremains and saw his attorney to adjust his will and financial intentions. As I sat with him, I could feel the family dynamic of not sitting still urging me to cut the conversation short. Why? I had nowhere else to be, other than being a support to him, listening to this man who isn't very social (an understatement) and now lives alone for the first time in decades. As Lila R said in her new year talk, pause, pray, proceed and sometimes the "proceed" means holding still.

I'm usually involved with my walking group on Saturday mornings, but we're on break until mid-February, so enjoyed the open space that let me attend a meeting that several friends like. The topic was related to identity, and how that (potentially) changes once we're sober. The discussion made me think of my cousin, who asked his sister, "When did Jeanine get a personality?" when I was a few years into recovery. Drinking and drugging me was either in the corner, trying to be invisible, or metaphorically dancing on the table tops. The true "me" is somewhere in-between. As a social introvert, I can hold my own at a party or meeting, but am usually very happy to get back to a cup of tea at home. 

Someone asked themselves the question, "What did I want to be when I grew up?" Though I'd never thought of it before, my immediate, internal answer was Pippi Longstocking - adventurous, independent, imaginative and joyful. When I was little, I had a recurring dream that I was in the Navy, in charge of uniforms and supplies before we set sail. I loved that dream - my own nighttime movie - and often went to sleep hoping to go there again. I also wanted to be a pioneer, like the Sager children who continued on the Oregon trail after both their parents died. 

Obviously I'm not a fictional character, and a century or so too late to be a pioneer, but what is it about those early wishes that might speak to me today and/or has informed my choices over the years? I'm not intrepid in a risk-taking sense, but I've had many grand adventures in many places I'd only read about or seen in a film. An ex could never understand my spending money on travel, preferring to have something tangible in hand. I'd rather have the memory, the experience of a shared smile with a stranger or a conversation with someone who wanted to practice their English. I think Pippi would want to come along.

How has the Hero's Journey played out in your life and recovery? Might you be on that path today in some form or another? What did you want to be, or do, when you were a kid? Has any of that played out in the here and now, whether you work life, social life or ???  

   * * * * * *

Time for a new year 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 table.

a new year...

 The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order - Eudora Welty

And that significance seems to come and go, from monumental to mere memory; from a small blip to a turning point. On New Year's Eve, I took a neighborhood walk with several women I've known since grade school. We met at our high school, then naturally gravitated towards the park a mile or so away where we spent many a weekend night as teens, smoking pot and drinking stolen wine, usually until we puked under a tree or the booze ran out. On the way back to my car, I passed the house where I hit bottom, the one with the meth lab in the basement. Time marches on.   

None of this stroll down memory lane had much of a pull, like it might've at one time. Maybe my reactions, or lack of, are related to spiritual fitness? Maybe simply the passing of time? I do know that there are times I think of my mother, for example, with tears, and other times, simply a recognition or pleasant memory. Sometimes I think of my ex, the man who married someone else but still put me through treatment, crying for the pain I caused, and sometimes the memory is simply sweet, or neutral. Sometimes the sunrise or sunset triggers a sense of awe, and sometimes I barely notice. The beat goes on.

The beat goes on, and this weekend I marked 40 years of continuous sobriety. 40 freaking years. I celebrated by throwing myself a dance party followed by a meeting focused on gratitude, and how recovery turned out different than perhaps anticipated in the pre-sober days. We are definitely not a glum lot. And way more than a celebration of my recovery, this was a celebration of of our recovery, of community, of people coming together who may not have seen each other in years (oh how the pandemic changed things). It wasn't the "happy anniversary!" wishes that got me, but the "Oh my god! I haven't seen you in forever!" as people walked in the door,  shrieks of joyful recognition. and  connect-the-dots moments - my sponsor realizing she used to work with a grade school pal of mine; two separate groups who'd been at morning meetings that day talking about a 40th anniversary party they'd be attending, only to have someone they didn't know (yet) say, "We'll be there too." It's like Huey from Nova Scotia said in the Long-Timers meeting at the International in Toronto years ago - "What keeps me coming back is the love vibe of the people." Indeed. Grateful doesn't even begin to describe the joy in my heart.

I chaired my in-person homegroup on Sunday, and could remember almost glossing over when someone shared about having 10, 20, 30 or more years sober. Even 5 years seemed ridiculously out of reach in my first weeks and months. I'm not one of these people who tends to lead with how much time I've got (unless it's a birthday meeting, of course). I subscribe to the belief that we all just have today, having been in too many meetings over the years where a long-timer goes out and struggles to come back - maybe triggered by medication, maybe from simply forgetting they're alcoholic, maybe just deciding they're done with the sober life. I don't want to be one of those people, and I know that I'm sober today based on how I work my program in the here and now, not there and then. 

So, back in the saddle after a very full and fun social month of December, with entertaining, holiday events, house guests - a joyful time of love and laughter shared. Back to the gym, back to salad for dinner, back to not keeping sugary treats in the kitchen! And always an eye to how I can be part of the solution  today, with my morning readings and journal, regular meetings, and contact with trusted others. 

To that end, someone asked me, only partly in jest, to be their "retirement sponsor" as they make the transition from the daily routine to more freedom of time. That can be challenging, with shifting priorities and often a "who am I now?" focus. The part about seeing where our experience can benefit others doesn't just apply to staying sober. As a long-timer, I have a lot of life to share, when asked. And therein lies the key to my Alanon program - Did they ask?  One day at a time I can utilize what I learned from Lila R in a New Year's talk: Pause, Pray, Proceed. One day at a time, one decision at a time.

How did you enter the new year? How can you strive for peace and serenity when the outside world seems to be way off kilter? How can Let it begin with me ease both personal relationships and relationship to news of the day? How can I utilize the tools of the program to deal with uncertainty?

   * * * * * *

Time for a new year 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

Moving along...

I recently read that a new idea held by an old mind is really just an old idea dressed in a new outfit. To me, that fits in with the AA slogan (borrowed from the Bible?) that faith without works is dead. I can entertain all sorts of "new" ideas, but if they don't lead to action or an internal shift, I'm simply spinning my wheels until the next new thing comes along. Until I had the psychic rearrangement the Big Book writes about, I was dry (in those very few times I tried to control my drinking), and dry was an uncomfortable place to be.

In a couple of meetings this week, people talked about new beginnings, starting a new chapter, with new jobs, recent loss of a loved one, the simmering of an urge that isn't quite yet named, the pending new year...  While I don't have a big change on the horizon (that I'm aware of!), I do like to take time to ponder what went well and what didn't this year, as well as any lessons learned. 

One of my biggest lessons was that I'm more competent than I sometimes give myself credit for. As I've written about, I'm directionally challenged, so had a semi-valid fear about getting lost while walking the Camino, intensified when my friend broke her ankle and couldn't continue. But there I was, trudging the road, getting to my night's lodging each day, tagging along with others or seeking help from strangers along the way. I am never alone, even when I think I am.

I got word this week that the AA group I started, maybe 15 years ago (?) held it's final meeting, having stayed online after the pandemic. I wouldn't say it was a resentment and a coffee pot that got it going - more that the nooner I'd been at for a decade got very big and very young and I sought someplace I could more comfortably relate. Funny - along that line, someone dubbed it the old-people's meeting (hmmm) and then someone else called it "the NPR of AA." In any event, it was stellar for quite awhile, and then, for me anyway, faded a bit with schedule changes, etc. I hadn't attended in probably 6-8 years. That's the beauty of AA - whoever or however a meeting begins, groups take on a life of their own, until they don't. 

Over time, there have been several meetings that I lived for, with the perfect combination of fellowship, emotional honesty and spirituality as we all did our best to practice the principles. I currently have online groups that fit that description, though did find myself feeling a bit envious recently as a few people talked about their in-person home groups with reverence. What do they say? If you don't think your home group is the best group in the world, maybe it's time to find a new meeting. To that end, I'm making an effort at fellowship with the long-ago Sunday night home group I've gone back to. It's a big group (40 people?), and, I'm starting to connect with individuals - those newer in sobriety and those who've been around awhile. And that's what it's all about, right? The fellowship, the conversations, the "I've been there too" are what kept me coming back, and allow me to see where my experience can benefit others.

I had an interesting conversation with my brother as I near my milestone. He isn't an alcoholic (he got the family depression, I got the alcoholism), and sometimes will ask me questions, like when reading a novel that has 12 Step characters, wondering if the depictions are accurate. He wondered if I've been sitting on the edge of my seat for 40 years, hanging on for dear life. Gratefully, no, though it can be hard to explain my moment of surrender that removed the compulsion.

It's funny - my brother was there for my descent, though slightly removed from the daily insanity. My first husband's brother, on the other hand, wasn't. When we reconnected a few years ago and I told him the abridged version of my story, he was incredulous, saying he would've punched anyone who'd tried to tell him I was a drug addict. Yeah, I clean up pretty well, and the madness of the disease makes even us nice girls go places we'd never imagined (as I've said, I wasn't a good girl, but I was a nice girl ha ha).

As I write, a crew is banging around on ladders, tearing off old siding in order to repair any water damage and slap up the new stuff. Kind of fitting that it's happening as the calendar turns - discarding what no longer serves. Later today I'll take a walk with women I've known since I was 9, and from there, see my friend, the Tarot Card Lady for a reading in honor of my sober-versary. I fully anticipate being asleep before the ball drops in New York. Midnight is no longer my friend (if it ever was). 

And tomorrow will be 2026. Remember when so many were worried that planes would fall out of the sky when computers turned over to the year 2000? One more piece of evidence that I don't have a crystal ball. I can do my best, one day at a time, to suit up and show up and practice the principles - not perfectly, but humanly, and with gratitude for this sober life. 

 Are there any lessons from 2025 you'll carry forward? What old ideas might you discard?  What went well this year? How will you celebrate your successes while being gentle with yourself?    Wishing you the very best for the new year. 

   * * * * * *

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