Family, of chance and of choice

A friend, new to retirement, and I have started a weekly walk and coffee habit, solving the problems of the world (or at least, sharing our opinions!). I like our new ritual. It can be too easy to one day think, "I haven't actually talked with anyone in person other than my spouse and the grocery clerk for weeks! That's part of why I'm glad to be back at an in-person AA meeting (and my in-person Alanon), as well as summer music-in-the-park that several friends and I attend. As my introvert brother might say, I don't need a lot of people, but I do need them every so often. I am very grateful for the technology that lets me have daily contact with two good friends who live elsewhere, and, face-to-face keeps me tethered to the here and now.

The in-person friend sometimes asks, "So what are you doing the rest of the day?" Uh, taking a nap and cleaning the kitchen? Hitting an online meeting and watching Jeopardy? Not all that exciting, and I'm getting more and more OK with that. 

My dad's sister had six kids, and from my age 8 forward, we lived near each other. The two youngest girls were my best friends, one in grade school and one in high school and beyond (that shifted when she got married and had kids and I got strung out). In any event, of the original six, just three are alive, and the remaining brother and his wife are moving to the southeast to be near their daughters and grandkids. That seems to be what people do. He and I don't see each other much, every few months at our cousin's brunch, but I'll miss his being near - he who walked me down the aisle when I got married, and who once drove four hours to surprise my mom with a "happy birthday." 

Dad's sister was my mom's best friend.. Over the years, after out mothers died, we cousins drifted - some moving away, busy lives, our social and political beliefs on different paths - and yet, we've maintained a connection born of history. And, as I keep noting, the beat goes on. On the other side of the family, Mom's sister's son moved closer once his mother passed - he and I see each other monthly during symphony season (he's a subscriber). There are other cousins on that side that, once their mother died, I knew I'd likely never see again. History matters, and not having reproduced, all those family stories mean less. Interesting to contemplate my foremothers and fathers, and no one to pass the family lore on to (which is why I donated a lot of my mother's papers, photos and artifacts to the Museum of the Oregon Territory) Funny enough, neither my brother or I, or Dad's half-brother's daughters have had kids. Some Freudian something-or-other there, I'd imagine, or maybe an unconscious desire to stop the family disease in its tracks.

What does all this have to do with recovery? My cousin moving has me thinking about family and what that means. In recovery, we talk about Family of Chance vs Family of Choice - I feel lucky that I do like my birth family, but in many respects, over the years I feel closer to my12 Step family (as well as my bestie, who's been in my life since we were 18). Kind of like birthdays - sure, the belly-button birthday means something, but it is my sober-versary that is the bigger deal. My birth family knows my history (and participated in much of it), but/and it is my sober friends who have walked with me in the day-to-day.

After thinking about family and history and connections over time, I came across the following:

 Yes. They'll forget us. Such is our fate, there is no help for it. What seems to us serious, significant, very important, will one day be forgotten or will seem unimportant. And it's curious that we can't possibly tell what exactly will be considered great and important, and what will seem petty and ridiculous...   Anton Checkhov

More and more I find myself contemplating my mortality, triggered by many in my age range who are doing the same (and writing brilliantly about the shifts in consciousness). What will seem important when I get to the end? Probably not the externals - the education or career, the travel, the marathons, other than how they've indicated my priorities... What I'd hope to leave as legacy is kindness, connection, an example of walking the talk. We humans want to know that we mattered, that our time on earth was more than just a blip, more than just taking up space. We used to do an exercise in treatment where clients wrote their own obituary. What might mine say? I've seen wonderful obits in the newspaper about sober AA's, those that don't mention recovery, and those strangers that do list alcoholism as the cause of death (GSO in NY has guidance on how to handle a person's AA membership in an obituary). Grateful that, just for today, I have the opportunity to contribute to what my legacy might be. But, who knows? In the meantime I'll continue to suit up and show up for whatever the day may bring. 

How have your daily routines changed over the years? How has the idea of Family of Chance/Family of Choice played out in your recovery?  My mother wrote out her own obituary, wanting to make sure we didn't leave anything out. What would you write?

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Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Marking time...

 And the beat goes on... both positively and not so much. A cousin back east recently shared the successes of her grandchildren as they become adults. Another cousin, closer to home, let me know that her adorable newest grandchild has a form of eye cancer and just got fitted with a port for chemo. She's a sweet child, just a toddler...  again and again, you just never know.

In the beat going on and on and on department, an old friend pointed out that our high school class of 1972 turns 72 years old this year. Dear God, we blinked a few times and are now old people. We'll gather for a very casual get together at the park where a lot of us smoked pot and drank the cheap wine we'd stolen from the corner market. We were a class of 500 (baby boomers) with close to 100 passed on, accidents soon after graduation, a couple of people from the AIDS epidemic, illnesses, suicide...   Many have moved, out of state or out of country, and many are here in the old neighborhood or nearby. I was definitely a park-rat in high school - got good grades, but spent most non-class time getting high or smoking cigarettes. Thanks to lessons learned in sobriety, I'm one of the gatherers, with the email list and Facebook site, the one with the stick-to-it-ivness that makes me great for the task of invites. Who would've thought, in those long ago days when I craved attention but wanted to be invisible? I ran into a friend who was getting ready to take his 93 year old dad to Texas for his high school reunion, likely only 2 alumni left. I wonder how long my group will keep meeting, as our numbers and health decline. 

It is sweet and a little eerie to see those I've known since I was a kid, or, in the world of AA and Alanon, those I've known in the rooms for decades. I was with friends listening to music in the park last weekend. A woman and I kept eyeing each other, then realized we'd gone to Alanon together pre-covid. I recognized another woman at a meeting recently who'd been out for 10 years, just now making her way back. And, the guy with 5 days I mentioned last week was at the meeting again, this time with 11 days! Keep coming back (stay - it's easier)!

And then, I just learned that someone from my former home group died last autumn. I didn't know him well, but we sat around the same table for years. He was only 76. There was a time that would've sounded ancient. These days, not so much. The beat goes on, until it doesn't.

I get Sermons on the Couch, a weekly email of inspiration and information. This week the author reminds me that somewhere there is someone who'd give anything for the ordinary day I've woken up to, with the encouragement to celebrate, even quietly, the beauty of this life in all it's glory and pain, excitement and boredom and everything in-between. One day at a time, one day at a time.

How do you both acknowledge the passage of time and live in the moment? What are you grateful for today, both big and small?

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Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Time keeps on slipping into the future...

 A good friend was here for a week, a week of urban adventures, a hike and a trip to the coast with our other travel buddy. The three of us were supposed to be out of the country for 10 days. That fell apart, but we decided to fill the time with her visit. She used to live here, but not for a while, so it was fun being a semi-tourist in my own town, as well as connecting with her old friends who are mine too, though I rarely see them these days. Covid changed so much. Covid and simply getting older, when staying in has more appeal than doing the latest thing. But it is about balance - being super busy/out and about with my friend caused me to compare my usual days of mostly being at home. Too much of either can be draining. Home time, meetings and sponsoring, my volunteer gig, errands... the days and weeks definitely fill up, but/and for me, the challenge, always, is to avoid busy for busy's sake, intentionally leaving open space.

There was a fellow with 5 days sober at our in-person home group this past week, 5 days after going in and out for the past 15-20 years. That must be pure torture. I realized early on that I didn't have it in me to bounce back and forth, out of fear I just wouldn't make it back. I don't have any magic formula - just the "don't drink and go to meetings" instruction. I am convinced, purely by observation, that chronic relapsing changes one's brain so that it's harder to make that surrender that marks Step One. I never want to forget that I've fully conceded to my innermost self that I'm alcoholic. No reason whatsoever to test that.

And so, I'll keep doing what works - not with the urgency of early recovery, but with the steadfast commitment to this way of life. Is it merely a habit? Maybe, but not a bad one to have. Three good friends are celebrating time this week - 24, 32 and 39 years. Who would've thought, when we were shivering denizens, that we'd be here all these years later, happy, joyous and free (most days).

Short post today as I get back into the day-to-day groove. On a fun note, again about long-term relationships - 4 of us from the way back time machine are planning a reunion of sorts, all attending the same home group in the 80's and 90's. 2 of us are back at the meeting, frequently thinking of the ghosts in the room - the old timers who were there when I arrived, demonstrating "keep coming back" by example. Now I can be that person, showing that it truly does work over time, and that recovery is about so much more than putting the plug in the jug.

How do you keep "fully conceded" fresh in your mind without it being a morbid reflection or obsession? What would be on your gratitude list today?

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Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

History

 One of my daily readers this week made the distinction between "have to" and "get to," as in, I'm sober now so I get to go to my job vs "Ugh. I have to go to work." Goes back to the "remember when you wanted what you now have." As someone in a meeting recently said, "I used to spend rent money on cocaine and now I own a home." Indeed. I have to vacuum and clean house vs I get to host a good friend coming to stay for a few days. Closely related is the whole idea of choice. Running a race once, a few miles from the finish someone held up a sign: Remember, you chose this! Ah yes. I used to supervise a person who, nearly daily, shared that she didn't like her job and didn't like the agency. Listening to her rants got old. Sure, sometimes people need to keep a job they don't like in order to survive, but if you hate it that much, look for something else (or at least stop grousing). I can remember than when/if I'm tempted to complain about something I have a choice about. 

I got together with friends I've known since grade school for our monthly "old codgers" date, with conversations veering between medical procedures, travel, music and traffic, deciding that back in the day we mostly talked about boys and weed (Who has it? Where can we get it?). Looking around the table, three of us are sober (three are "normies"), a couple have hearing aids, one is a widow, three cancer survivors, two are grandmas...  And back in the day, we would've been sitting cross-legged in the park, passing a joint and a bottle of Bali Hai. I so appreciate our history.

Another good friend had a sober-versary last week. As I told them, I love their story, and that they lived to tell the tales. Probably all of us have points in our story where we think, "Oh, that could've gone really badly" yet here we are, getting old, reasonably healthy, sober. And then a dear man I know, but don't see often enough, celebrated 51 years sobriety at our in-person home group this weekend. Wow! We are definitely the fortunate ones - the ones who've stayed sober, who didn't die of AIDS or at the end of a syringe or in a car accident, the ones who've been given this gift of a life longer than would've been expected.. 

I saw my Primary Care Physician this week for a general check up, which involved a blood draw. I very much appreciate how phlebotomy has evolved. 40 years ago, those nurses insisted on trying for a vein in the traditional spots, despite my saying, "That's not going to work. No really, please trust me" after the third poke. These days I can say, "You may not like it, but this is the vein you need to use," and they say, "OK. Thanks for letting me know." It was funny, this time, when I told the person I was 40 years clean, he asked, "So what were you doing 40 years ago?" and we had a little conversation about recovery. 30-40 years ago I was more embarrassed and ashamed. Now, it's merely a part of my history.

Speaking of history, all this 4th of July stuff reminds me of when I left my first husband and moved back (temporarily) into my old bedroom. My brother showed up one day with a copy of the Declaration of Independence, insisting I was declaring my own independence, and that I had the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness (he's a good egg).My pursuit of what I thought was happiness ended up leading me to some very dark places and I appreciated his support for the decision to leave that marriage. (and I'm glad that part of early recovery included redefining "fun" and "happiness" ) 

Has your definition of happiness changed at all over the years? How might you look at your days differently if you reframed "have to" to "get to?" How do you recognize your freedom of choice today?

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Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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