In-between

 I'm thinking this week about the in-between, the liminal state, the process of letting go of a way of being, whether the new way is defined or not. I'm thinking about my friend, now out of the hospital but with a ways to go before back to full health. I'm thinking of my spouse, on the verge of choosing a retirement date, and another good friend who is looking for work that fits this stage of their life and longings. My cousins' elderly father just passed, which if anything like my mother's dying, has them letting go of Dad-Alive to Dad-Gone. I'm thinking of a friend who is hanging on to the idea that they can control and enjoy their drinking while failing miserably (I said, "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but if you are alcoholic, there's no "every once in awhile.") I'm also thinking of a friend who is in the process of a major life decision, now wondering if they are truly being called to a new life or are in massive self-will

And what about me? I seem to be in a state of defining and redefining what it means to be retired, what it means to decide how I'll spend my days and how that shifts and changes, as well as the "should's" that are never quite quiet enough to ignore. Where shall I direct my energy and attention today? How will I balance active and passive pursuits? Where will I find balance between home and hearth and time with friends? And, more importantly, maybe there isn't really an "in-between." Maybe life is life, one day at a time, whether I'm on solid footing or not. Maybe I can choose to grow rather than being pushed by circumstance.

We just spent a few days with my husband's family in San Francisco - always a joy to witness the full spectrum of life - the little ones growing up before our eyes with the patriarch and matriarch at the other end, and us, feeling creakier walking those SF hills with each visit. A highlight of the trip, for me, was our All AA All Day fellowship infusion, with our early morning meeting and coffee after, a drive across the Bay for lunch with a good friend and another meeting, and back to the house in time to join our biweekly fellowship group online. I love how our meetings are the same, yet very different wherever we are. It's especially fun to get real-life hugs from folks I generally just see online. I wish I had words adequate to describe how I feel about AA to the friend who resists, the "I hope you hear something that makes you want to come back" without preaching. Attraction, not promotion can be tough, especially when it's someone I care about. 

As much as I love to travel, I really love coming home. It seems like even a brief break from the usual routines makes them all the sweeter - the same things that were kind of boring become endearing, whether a quiet cup of tea early in the morning or watching Jeopardy. Our two cats have been right outside the bedroom door each morning since we've returned. Did they do that while we were gone, waiting for the door to open and it never did? Very fortunate that my brother feeds them, though they haven't yet come out from under the couch (or wherever it is they hide) to officially thank him. 

And so, the beat goes on, sometimes predictably, sometimes not. My task, always, is to be in this moment - not thinking about last week's conversation or next week's calendar. I am a planner, but as I was taught years ago, the results are not up to me. 

What has your attention this week? Are there places where you see that your experience can benefit others? How about places where it is better that you remain silent? What does "home" mean to you today? Is it a place, or a state of mind? How do you carry the message of hope and recovery, directly or indirectly?

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There's still 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

You just never know...

I got a call late last week that a good friend was in the ICU for emergency intestinal surgery. Wait - what?? We'd spent the day on Thursday texting back and forth about my May travel, and he was scheduled to leave town on an extended trip on Friday, instead, calling for an ambulance. I've alerted the troops (i.e. home group members) and have been to the hospital, working with another friend to try to access his travel documents in order to cancel (note to self - the computer/phone is great, and having a paper backup is a good idea for such unexpected emergencies). Once more, a reminder that you just never know. You really, really just never know.

Another friend is part of a small group that has been meeting over time, with a current focus on the 12 steps. Each member takes a Step and creates processing questions to facilitate going deep into the "what it's like now" portion of our program. I've always appreciated the small, in-home groups I've participated in - the current Cabal, a group that worked through One Breath at a Time, another group that worked the Alanon Steps, a focus on aging, a group we called To Old to Give a F***,  and plain old Step Groups over the years. I love my meetings, and there is something about sitting regularly with a closed group that allows for enhanced emotional honesty. 

One of the questions that April L. shared with me made me catch my breath: "If your recovery were no longer just measured by abstinence, how would you evaluate your spiritual awareness and condition today?" My immediate thoughts were around specifics - not running around on my partner, not stealing time, attention or money from loved ones or myself, all of which points to integrity - the walking the talk variety. I know what my morals and values are today, i.e. they don't change based on my circumstances or who I'm with. And today, what recovery looks like is showing up - going to the hospital even though my friend was unconscious/sedated, staying in touch with his family out of state, doing what little I could (and so very grateful that, as of this writing, he is out of ICU and on the mend). 

The question also makes me think of service on a less personal level - how am I part of the solution today, in ways big and small? A smile and "good morning" to those I pass when I walk (whether they reply or not), coffee cards I give to my favorite, or random, grocery store clerks at the holidays, fostering communication between neighbors, letting a car into MY lane. This week that meant accepting an invitation to go in the home of an older woman I chat with on my walks in order to view her amazing paintings (another reminder - it's never too late). 

I chaired my Alanon home group last week, marking the 40 year anniversary of walking in the doors, desperate for a magic formula that would convince my heroin addicted sort-of-boyfriend to get clean. I am so very grateful that I don't live with the active disease today, whether that man or a later partner who was a relapser. I'm so grateful for the inventories, outside help and tears that (eventually) brought me to a place of being able to look at the past - my growing up years - without staring. It has definitely been a journey, and one I will continue.

My topic for the meeting was from one of the daily readers that spoke to detaching from myself. I'm semi-proficient at detaching from others, but what about my own sometimes circular thinking? How do I ensure that my mind and my body are in the same place? It's no big secret, though I sometimes act (think!) as if I just obsess long enough, or in the "right" way, the situation will turn out to my liking. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn't and it is not my brain power that changes the weather or traffic, my spouse's workday, a friend's predicament. "One day at a time" can sound simple, but it continues to be a challenge for me. Right here, right now, all is well. My friend is doing amazingly well (being a marathoner helps), another friend received helpful and hopeful medical news, my brother is taking care of business in the newly widower department, and just for today, my spouse and I are healthy. Thank you to long term sobriety for having the tools to walk through whatever life throws my way - not always gracefully or automatically, but I get there, yes, ODAT.

How would you measure your emotional sobriety today? How are you of service, in ways big and small? Are you able to detach from your own thoughts when you find yourself in a quandary? What are you grateful for today?

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Time for an 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

Trudging

 I was reminded this week of that the "road of happy destiny" is sometimes like a smooth, newly paved freeway and sometimes a twisty, muddy path through dense woods. Sometimes we trudge, sometimes we skip merrily along, and sometimes we need a flashlight to illuminate the way forward. 

Even after all this time it's not automatic, but usually that illumination comes via the Steps, with the path forward leading back to myself, to the still, small voice, to the quiet place within that knows, knows all is well, despite outward appearances. Health, relationships, employment/finances - yes, there are big deals and at my core I am sober and I am supported, by my own inner resources and by the fellowship. 

A friend says they rely on GPS - Grace, Peace and Serenity. I like it! Sometimes that's all it takes - a slogan, a particular phrase, the Serenity Prayer - to move me from worry to acceptance of what is in the here and now. Am I uncomfortable with some aspect of my existence? OK. Where does Step One fit in? If I can acknowledge my powerlessness, do I believe I will be restored to sanity if I let go of the illusion of control? Can I do an honest inventory, even if what I recover/discover about myself could move me beyond my current comfort zone?

It's interesting/funny/ironic how I can still, at times, hide from myself. A sticky note on my computer says: If you know the answer, ask a bigger question. That can feel scary, throwing me back to early sobriety when I thought that taking Step 3 would mean selling all my worldly possessions and moving to Calcutta to work with Mother Theresa. Having not been raised with any kind of punishing God, why do I so often wait for the other shoe to drop, as if one is only allowed so much good at a time? Do I really think that if I "turn it over" I'll be lead down a road I don't want to travel? So much of what I've read suggests that our heart's true longing will never lead us to a terrible place. Sure, sometimes I am asked to push myself a bit, but/and here I am - 71 years old,40 years sober, plugging along. 

I love this quote from Pico Iyer - "The fact that nothing lasts is why everything matters." Some decisions matter more than others - what to have for breakfast vs shall I take this job? And, the important piece for this alcoholic/alanon-ic is to pay attention. Am I reacting to the here and now, or something from there and then? Am I so stuck in my head that I don't notice the beauty around me? Am I so focused on my To-Do list that I shortchange the people who  might need my attention? I think of conversations with long-gone loved ones. Did I notice at the time how precious those relationships were? Did I say everything that needed to be said? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I will say that one of my (smallish) regrets is that years ago now I think I saw a former co-worker at the grocery store, an older woman I sat next to for several years. I wasn't sure it was her, and didn't say anything. I'm now pretty sure it was her and wished I'd spoken up - a reminder that when my first instinct is to connect, or to be kind in some way, go for it. 

I'm reading an autobiography that references a movie about death, that when one gets to the pearly gates they must choose a memory to inhabit for eternity in order to pass through to heaven. Man, that has me thinking! Would it be my wedding day in 2011 A perfect date a few years earlier? An AA meeting on the beach in 1987, or hilarity with my cousins in the 1960's? How can anyone choose one memory, especially as a sober person? I'll continue to ponder that one, incredibly grateful that I have so much joy to choose from.

What is the road of happy destiny looking like for you this week? If you're in need of a flashlight, which Step(s) can guide your way? Is there a particular slogan or saying that brings you back to center? How do you remind yourself to pay attention if your mind wanders to the past or future? What might be a memory you'd inhabit if you needed to choose?

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There's still 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

Secrets and ism's

 A meeting this week on the topic of Steps 4/5 evolved into discussion of secrets. and the gratitude of living in such a way that I/we don't need to lie anymore. In talking about childhood, several spoke of family secrets. I don't exactly relate to that. Dad was alcoholic, as was my uncle (and several others) but Mom and his sister talked about it fairly openly and I came to understand it as a sickness, though didn't really understand what that meant. Rather than a secret, I just think that we (me, cousins, close friends) didn't have language to talk about what went on at home. I knew my uncle could be violent and my dad was sad, but emotional maturity and vocabulary would come much later.

Of course I lied as a kid, all the time. I wasn't about to tell Mom about the shoplifting or sneaking out, talking too much in class or in trouble for eating candy when I wasn't supposed to. If I'd had the words, maybe I could've said I felt stifled by the quiet at home, the somber mood with Dad's depression, and that stealing and running around and later drinking made me feel alive. Instead, I fibbed to her, and talked with friends about the TV show we'd just watched, or the cousin's older brothers' cute friends. Honestly talking about how I felt came later, with a few drinks, and even then I was more or less guessing - taking a stab at what I thought was right.

In Speaking of Faith, by Krista Tippett, this journalist and theology student writes about her participation, at a spirituality based institute, sitting around a table with strangers, talking about their truths, and the beauty in sharing honestly and in detail about feelings and spiritual longings. Anyone in 12 Step would say, "Well duh!"  That's what can happen for us in the sacred circle, the imaginary campfire, where we can access our innermost thoughts. Not every time in every meeting of course, but there are times when the room almost levitates with the poignancy of our collective heart-speak. It's like dominoes, with one sharing opening the door for another. Sometimes meeting shares are one's spiel, the pitch, but sometimes I hear the cosmic exhale of capital "T" truth, the truth that brings tears to my eyes whether I directly relate to the topic or not. Being real continues to feel immense. 

I've seen my ism's at work this week with a change of plans for a trip planned later this spring. A couple of people have dropped out, which has me re-thinking my plan, which had me in a bit of a frenzy with "Do something NOW!" before I had all the facts. I am, sometimes quickly, usually slowly, learning to pause and gather information before taking action. By the end of the day's texts, one of the remaining travelers suggested that I do this instead of that, resulting in my "Oh yeah - that's a great idea!" Because I'd waited before acting, I didn't have to try to undo an impulsive decision. Funny how that works.

I can trace that "do it now!" impulse back to growing up with alcoholism - the fear of missing out if the parents change their mind. Related to the family illness or not, I am still not very comfortable with ambiguity, though time and experience has, time and time again, showed me that all will be well, that all is well. And the best piece of advice I've ever received - if it's a good idea today, it will be a good idea tomorrow.  Indeed.

What secrets did you keep, as a child or a practicing alcoholic?  Have you been able to share those with a sponsor or trusted other? Where do your ism''s show up these days? Are you able to take a step back to recognize when you're about to act on an old idea?

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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