Transitions

 I'm thinking this week about the cycle of life as one friend marks the anniversary of her husband's passing, another hits a sobriety milestone, and yet another says goodbye to a beloved four-legged family member. We spent time with family over a long weekend visit - the patriarch, a frail 95 years old and the youngest in first grade. Watching the three cousins frolic on the beach, I was reminded that some of my happiest memories are of times on the beach with my own cousins, shrieking and jumping and trying to dig our way to the other side of the world. That sometimes seems like only yesterday, and other times like a hazy dream. 

I suppose I'm in the autumn of my life, not quite ready to claim winter, though probably getting close. Years ago, I read a lovely poem where the author wrote with melancholy about spring, knowing that each rotation of the earth brought him closer to his final spring. Not exactly the same, but I do remember during my last year working, thinking, "Oh, this is the last time I'll have to cover during a snowstorm," or "This is the last person I'll hire and train," and then the very final, " This is my last drive to work." A friend who is older than I often points out that life becomes a series of "lasts" - last hike, last making love, last walk, last garden. Maybe, for many, that comes gradually, so gradual that it isn't fully noticed except in retrospect. More reason to pay attention, to big events and small.

On another note, sometimes when I leave my gym, I see a person or two waiting for the pot shop to open, sunglasses on perhaps, even though it is gray morning, sitting in their vehicle or on the nearby apartment steps. I have to laugh with friends - back in our day, we had to sneak around to buy marijuana, from the creepy guy in the park, or the fellows in the corner of the school cafeteria. The times, they have changed, though I do remember sitting in the grocery store parking lot, having been up all night, waiting for 7am to buy more beer, so not much different than those waiting for their pot. I don't know that it still happens, being way too old and very sober, but upon turning 21, we applied for an ID card from the Oregon Liquor Control Commission (OLCC) that was our passport to legal drinking. I hadn't yet learned to drive when I got mine, but I'd certainly learned how to drink, or should I say, knew how to get drunk. 

Rites of passage, initially marking one's expansion in the world (school, driver's license, legal drink, career, maybe children) and at this stage, more of a contraction. Retirement could be either - the ending of one phase and the beginning of another. I'm now convinced that life is a series of transitions - youth to old age, work life to retirement, shifting goals and priorities, knowing that at least some of which lies ahead involves loss. 

But what lies ahead also involves love and laughter. On our visit to family, we also got to spend time with our home-away-from home group family, hitting an AM meeting with coffee after, then crossing a bridge to a nooner and lunch with more friends. It is great seeing people outside the tiny zoom squares, sharing an actual hug, looking each other in the eye to say, "I'm so glad to see you." 

And the beat goes on. If aging is truly a series of "lasts," how will you celebrate and make note of all that is real and good today? What rites of passage lie ahead for you? How do you stay in the moment, while remaining aware of inevitable transitions?

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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.

Connection

 I have been absolutely filled with gratitude, that heart-swell of positive emotion, having recently been in meetings with those celebrating 13, 22 and 44 years of recovery. At 39, I feel solid in my sobriety, and fortunate to have found my people, my people who are as committed to this way of life as I am. As I sometimes think, it could've gone either way. With the memory of a few people from my treatment days, who felt like they already had one foot out the door mere weeks later, I am grateful that my antennae of discernment pointed me towards those actually working the program. sometimes with grace, sometimes stumbling along..

In those early months, I "connected" so to speak, with a fellow peer. On our second date(ish), I realized he'd started smoking pot. As we drove towards aftercare, I chastised him (ha - no Alanon in the picture yet) telling him he needed to go to meetings, like we'd been taught. "I'm not like you, Jeanine," he countered. My reply was, "I'm not like me either!" I was never a joiner, was introverted and painfully self-conscious, but I bought it when they said, "There are two times to go to a meeting - when you want to and when you don't." No one asked whether I felt like it or not. If I wanted to stay sober, if I wanted to stay alive, I'd follow directions, however awkward that felt. I still follow those directions that are, by this time, seared into my DNA. I don't need three meetings a day anymore (though may get that on a visit coming up that includes visit with friends at different groups), but I do need to stay connected, whether meetings, conversations, emails or walks.

Speaking of Alanon, this past week marks 39 years since my first meeting. There were times I used Alanon for crisis management only, but life, and my feelings about it, seem to flow smoother when I stay connected. While I do sometimes succumb to the "co-dependent crazies," I am definitely not the same person as when I waited at the window for my heroin-addicted lover to come home (with my car), or begged HP, on my knees, for his sobriety that didn't happen. The Alanon journey was a painful one, and can still sometimes be uncomfortable when I catch myself in control mode. One day at a time, I am grateful (there's that word again) to have found my way to the rooms. I used to cringe at the "double-winner" label, thinking, "More like double-loser!" I much prefer the term, "dual-member." Also, many Alanons talk about their "qualifier," the person who's alcoholism qualifies them for Tradition 3, but recently I've heard the term "motivator," which feels both more accurate and gentler.

I'm in the planning stages of a grand adventure in a couple of months, see-sawing between my usual travel fears and excitements. In thinking of Step 2 in Feb, I realized that my insanity these days comes from the very old idea that I'm supposed to "figure it out," that I'm meant to have all the answers. And with Step 3, the reminder that one of my isms is the fear that if I don't know exactly what's next I can't be safe. Au contraire. I'm not going to Outer Mongolia or the Amazon jungles (and even if I were, I'd likely be ok.) 

I used to ask myself on the way to work each morning, "I wonder how my plans will get disrupted today?" knowing something nearly always happened that was out of my control. That applies to vacations, trips to the grocery store, plans with a friend, and yes, grand adventures. In the meantime, on my Monday walk I ran into a couple I used to spend time in meetings with, had a conversation at the gym with a woman I recognized from local government, and sent a text to someone I haven't seen in quite awhile (I'm learning to follow the hunch or urge - if I think of someone, go ahead and reach out). If I tell myself that connections are important, it behooves me to pay attention to where that shows up, like a phone call from someone up north who wanted to purchase some of the Now What workbooks, or another woman at my gym who's been on the adventure I'm planning. It's about the people, sharing a smile or like with the greeter at the grocery store, funny stories about this neighborhood we grew up in. Love is all around. All I need to do is notice.

Where do you feel gratitude today, despite what can feel like a very crazy world? What do you do when fears, old or new, show up? Staying in the moment, are you able to notice love, even if it looks like something else?

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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.

When the past reaches out

 My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between I occupy myself as best I can.       ~Cary Grant

The above quote from one of my daily readers cracked me up this week, on the heels of a conversation with someone about my often being busy, occupied, in motion. What I would say is that it works for me, and that one of the gifts of recovery really has been the discovery piece of what I do like, how I best operate in the world, etc. Especially in my working days, my motto was "I'd rather be busy than bored," which still generally holds true. And what I would say is that I don't usually post about the times I'm sitting on the couch playing along with Jeopardy on TV, or taking my mid-day nap, so I may not actually be as "busy" as I appear at first glance. I do prefer being engaged. How I remember the months and months with a blank calendar as my world shrunk. Kitchen fridge for a beer, bathroom to shoot up, bedroom to feel safe when the paranoia hit. Life is better now.

One of the things I do is related to my involvement with a local women's running and walking group. We had our first session of the season this past weekend, and as the fates would have it, the newbie I walked alongside shared that she'd just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Talk about being in the right place at the right time! I was able to tell her my experience, as well as offer some reassurance. Higher Powers in the house! The piece of how our experience can benefit others can come both in and out of the rooms.

Over the weekend, a small group went to a 1972 Sing-along at a nearby venue. It was hilarious, with 90% of the attendees in our age range, not really needing the posted lyrics. I'm not a great singer, but I can carry a tune, and there was definitely something nurturing and cathartic about singing at the top of my lungs with a hundred other people, many dressed in tie-die or sequins or fringed vests. Probably like most generations, I'm glad to have grown up when I did. It is reassuring to find community, in sometimes unexpected places.

My dad, who's been gone since 1980, was in my heart this week when I found myself crying as I drove away from the grocery store, missing him and all the conversations we didn't get to have. These days I don't have to dissect the "why" of my feelings - I can acknowledge the sadness and longing, and be grateful that his memory still reaches out. What I can do is be mindful of self-forgiveness for all the years that my work on causes and conditions focused on what was missing. Was I impacted by how his alcoholism affected the family? Yes, and... he was more than an alcoholic. He sobered up the year I started drinking, and I was well into my own disease when he died. I'd give anything to be able to talk with him as a sober adult, but that's not how it works. Instead, I can forgive us both, holding our unskilled communication efforts gently.

 The beat goes on. Spring follows winter, and we're seeing glimmers here in Portland with crocus and hellebore in bloom. One day at a time, I know what I need to know when I need to know it, whether that is related to current situations or my relationship with my past.

How have the self-awareness gifts of recovery shown you who you are? Has any of that changed over time? What about how your experience(s) can benefit others? Where does that show up in your life? Are there past relationships or situations that continue to be your teachers? Where might you further the gentle task of self-forgiveness?

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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.

Ups and downs

 Ah shoot. I just learned that one of my regular cancer ridergs passed away last weekend. I'd driven her to chemo and radiation appointments for over a year, always impressed by her positive nature and good humor. This week, her son let me know she'd died, in response to my texts attempting to verify this week's ride. Damn it.

I was new-ish to the volunteer position when I started driving Karen E. Usually, the few folks I'd taken to and from appointments shared their excitement at having just two more sessions to go, or three, or today is the last one! I made the rookie mistake of asking Karen how many she had left and she said, "As long as it keeps working. I'm terminal." Man. What do you say to that? Not much. So over the next year, she moved, we drove through the beginning of a snowstorm, and once google maps took us on a convoluted trek through narrow streets in an effort to save five minutes. We laughed together, and talked about the weather, with her sharing bits about living in other places. A couple of months ago, she dropped off the radar. Since she'd shared that the cancer had moved to her brain, I sadly figured she'd moved on to hospice care, but then, her name popped up again and I grabbed the ride. And now she's gone. 

We weren't friends, I didn't know her well, though met her quiet sister who'd help get Karen's walker into the trunk of my car when she couldn't walk safely on her own anymore and have now shared several texts with her son. I'm not surprised that she's gone, not particularly grieving, and yet, there is an empty space. She was a trooper, a good example of carrying on, as well as a reminder that death is inevitable. Sometimes we see it coming and sometimes we don't. 

I'm thinking of all those who come into our lives, into my life (and me into theirs) - those superficial relationships that might be regular but not deep - the barista or the cashier at the grocery store who's line I try to get in, the front desk person at my gym who I see several mornings a week, those neighbors  I share a "Good morning!" with on my walks, and yes, those I drive to their cancer treatment. Superficial connections, but meaningful in their consistency. There used to be a fellow I'd see walking around a nearby park, looking like perhaps he'd had a stoke somewhere along the line. I chatted with him one day, learning he was a veteran, though we didn't get into the source of his shuffle. He was out there nearly every day and then he wasn't. I didn't know him, but I notice that he isn't there anymore. And the beat goes on. 

On Valentine's Day, my spouse said, "Hey, shall we go to the Beacon Group? Today's Step is 4/5 Fear and Sex?" (they do 4/5 resentments separately). I don't usually do morning meetings, but said, "OK" since we were two days into a snow event and I wasn't going out for my usual walk. So I log on, literally three minutes before the start, only to hear that the speaker had a last-minute conflict and couldn't be there, so could someone fill in, like maybe Jeanine?  

I gulped my coffee and said "yes" to this semi-reasonable request (ha ha). Fortunately for me and those listening, this is my area. Relationships are, or rather, have been, my number one offender, the place where I struggled over the years to unravel the effects of growing up with alcoholism, to understand the causes and conditions that had me looking for love in all the wrong places, to finally, finally surrender and get out of my own way. 

It was a small-ish group, mostly female, and I saw lots of head nodding as I described my lack of self worth, thinking I only mattered if "he" thought so. Those years of inventory and therapy and many, many meetings were painful, thinking "This time will be different!" only to eventually end up deciding that I'm just not meant for a long-term relationship. It really was only by leaving the ring that there was enough room to notice my husband when he showed up, totally outside my usual type. Funny how that works. Let go, they always said.  "Let go of what, and how???" I'd cry, never getting an answer that felt do-able.  

And that's the thing - I'm a do-er, task oriented, a concrete thinker. Sitting on a lily pad waiting for enlightenment doesn't work for me. So part of my process was writing a letter to Creator/HP/Universal Truth. I made a collage about the letting go process. I smudged and inventoried and used the Set Aside prayer. It wasn't magic and it wasn't automatic, but eventually, I was able to let go of hopes and dreams, expectations and old ideas, realizing that my life really was perfect just as it was. Perfect then, just about perfect now, once I let go of what I thought of as "happily ever after" on my terms.

And so, the beat does go on. Last week I wrote about visiting my sister-in-law in memory care. This week my brother thinks that might not be a great idea after all. She is still in that place where she knows she's losing her memory, so it might be upsetting if she doesn't recognize me. A delicate dilemma, and his decision, which could change along the way. 

Life on life's terms, as we weave in and out of each other's stories, sometimes long term, sometimes short, sometimes not even knowing each other's last names. An up and down week for me, with the person's death, our favorite neighbors moving, visiting with my brother, cooking our Thanksgiving turkey from the freezer, life on life's terms, big deals and those not so much. 

How has your week been? Big deals or little ones? Anything unexpected that turned out to be a positive? Who do you consider as community, some close and maybe some on the periphery? If a sponsee were to ask, "HOW do I let go?" how would you answer?

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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.