Coming home...

 In the very early morning hours at the Rome airport, waiting for my flights home to begin, I watched a pigeon soaring through the concourse, seeming to do a loop and then back again. I hope she found her way out. Watching her follow the same path made me think of our recovery saying about doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Are there places I still keep trying what doesn't work, like trying to run the show or thinking I know best for someone else? Always a good point to ponder when I feel myself bumping up against a person, place, thing or situation.

While I was away, a friend asked if I was disconnecting from social media or contact with home in order to meditate while I walked. Not really....  I enjoy posting photos of my days (as I like to follow friends on their journeys), and kept in touch with my husband and a few friends. I remember the days of buying postcards on Day One, searching for stamps and a post office for mailing in the hopes the card would get to the sendee before I got home, along with buying a specific type of card in order to make a payphone call home. These days, other than accounting for the time difference, I can stay in daily contact if I so desire, which can be reassuring as a reminder that yes, I am connected to my life at home, and helpful for my spouse to know I'm getting along fine..

Last year's Camino walk was a celebration - of turning 70 and marking my 40th year of sobriety. This year's trek, shorter though definitely a challenge with very steep hills, was more of an adventure. Members of our group of 12, five of whom I'd met last year, ranged in age from 39 to 80, from novices to experienced trekkers. I appreciated the silent stretches along the way as well as the miles of intense conversation (family, politics, health)., and cheering on those who'd doubted their abilities. Will I do it again, with this particular goal and group? Hard to say. I've found that I do like walking through the countryside with stops along the way. More will be revealed, but for today I'm very happy to be home.

The recent Time magazine had an article describing how people talk less than we used to - we text rather than call, work from home, use the self-check out line at the grocery store, and I'll add my pet peeve - don't say "hello" back when greeted on the street. The article notes a study that measured an average of 120,000 fewer words spoken per year (16,600 words per day in 2005 compared to below 12,00 in 2019) and the personal and social consequences when we don't interact. (Even small talk with strangers was noted as important.) One more reason I'm grateful for our 12-Step programs, where talking is part of what we do - a community of like-minded others where we share what is on our  minds or hearts. 

It's been damp here in the Pacific Northwest as I acclimate back to home, allowing low-energy jet lag to guide my plans. Life goes on, and I can heed the inner voice that whispers, "Relax." To that end, I had a massage this week, in the building that used to house our family doctor while I was growing up. I saw our General Practitioner from about age 8 to 32, through many of my life's pivotal moments. I had pneumonia when I was 13, afraid he'd be able to tell that I'd started smoking. I distinctly remember him telling me, in 1980, that quitting smoking was the best decision I'd made, and then referring me to a counselor as I wept in his office after my dad died. A few years later, before a female-related procedure, I elected to tell him about my methamphetamine use, in case I'd need more anesthesia than normal. And then again, him praising my decision to get clean and sober in1986. He was something of a father-figure, a good guy, a holistic practitioner, and in a slightly removed way, a part of my story. (like the pharmacist that refused to sell me syringes, or that counselor who said she couldn't see me anymore unless I quit using.)

And, the beat goes on. I heard a 5th Step a few weeks ago, and this week, Steps 6 & 7. Such an honor to be trusted, and to be trustworthy. I'm working through the Steps with another sponsee, and with my own sponsor. As someone recently remarked, the Steps have become integrated into who I am and how I approach the world. "The road gets narrower," for me, simply means that I don't have to think too hard anymore about the right thing to do.

Are there areas where you engage in the same way, expecting different results? How can you detach from those old habits? Where, or how, do you feed your need for social connection? Are there people from your past who, while perhaps not directly impacted by your drinking or using, were a part of your story? How has practice of the Steps become more automatic as time goes on?

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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

Walking, remembering, moving along

 Here I am, in the countryside of Tuscany, walking, walking, walking. On the Camino last year, I discovered the joy and peace of simply walking, with nothing much to decide each day other than what to have for lunch. My life at home isn't all that complicated, but does call for decisions and choices and appointments and obligations - none of which are troubling, and are actually comforting, and being out of the normal routine can feel cleansing, a re-set.

And as I walk, I seek to spend time in contemplation, a walking meditation. I recently read Speaking of Faith, by Krista Tippett, an enlightening book about modern human beings' various approaches to the idea of faith, and how spirituality often gets complicated by the rigors and rules of organized religion. She speaks to the dichotomy of mystery and our desire for certainties, "what we believe we know, and what we can never know for sure in time and space," which she calls a creative tension. Like in our 12 Step programs, it's the tension between action and surrender, letting go and doing the footwork. How to hold the world gently, wear the program like a loose garment? For me, it's related to not expecting guarantees. Dang it. I want to know. I remember saying something to that effect in a meeting years ago, to which another member cross-talked with "What's the fun in that? If I already know how something will turn out, why make the effort?" I often hear or read about staying curious vs fearful. A reasonable goal.

And in the meantime, I walk along a path that pilgrims have covered for centuries, believing that the walking, the destination, would prove their faith. I don't believe in that kind of higher power, the kind that requires me to validate my beliefs, which seem to ebb and flow over time. I can appreciate my connection to humanity, whether to the medieval pilgrim or my own family tree, knowing I have my own path.  

I had a lovely time in Florence on my own for a full day of being a tourist before joining the walking group. Something the Camino experience last year taught me, or rather reinforced, is that I am much more competent than I give myself credit for. I did get "lost" a couple of times, but no big deal as I wandered the lovely streets.

 I couldn't help but remember the first time I was here in 1983 celebrating my 29th birthday without seeing my mother or my cousins, born on the same day, for the first time ever. I was lonely and drunk and argumentative with my boyfriend, who I would've told you meant everything to me, but I sure didn't act like it. I was dreadfully hungover and nauseous walking up the stairs of the leading Tower of Pisa, arguing in a restaurant in Rome, crying when the Trailblazers dubbed in Italian came on TV,  saying, "I just want to be home" hoping that meant he would be home too. It was one of those turning points I didn't recognize at the time, with the realization in hindsight that my sense of home and his were completely different. We went to Cypress where he had purchased an apartment so I could be there part of the year with him, which scared me. I didn't want to be so far from my mom and couldn't imagine what I would do all the time he was in Jeddah working. It was very soon after I got home that I was introduced to the meth cook and my total and utter downfall began. Not that my alcoholism wasn't already in the spiral, but that certainly hastened things along - the darkest period of my life, leading to the awful gift of desperation. 

And...I can follow that painful recollection with the two times I was here with a close friend,  making sober memories. You don't get "here" from "there," they used to say, but here I am. Two people in my group this week have asked about the AA patch on my backpack,  or why I don't drink. It's nice to share a piece of my story, and hear theirs and where we have similarities.  

When I cried myself to sleep in 1983, as the chilling vapor that is loneliness took over, I couldn't have imagined being here, in a nice hotel, having walked 12 miles today,  with my dear spouse holding down the fort at home. I am beyond grateful that my life, my sober life hasn't been limited by my narrow perspectives. Onward!

How do you re-set in your life or your program? What are the strengths you sometimes forget you have? How does your life look differently than you might've thought when you first got sober? Have you forgiven yourself for past mistakes? How about mistakes made in the here and now?

Onward

Here I am, killing time at SeaTac while awaiting my flight to Italy. I like airports - the hustle and bustle of people going here and there, joyous reunions and sad good-byes, the anonymity as well as the potential for camaraderie at the gate or in line at the coffee shop.

I've got my fingers crossed that I get to my destination in time for the 6pm English speaking AA meeting, which will be my only opportunity for 12 Step fellowship as most of this trip will be in small towns, and I'll be traveling with a group. I love going to meetings in other cities and other countries. I often think about a meeting a friend and I attended in Prague years ago where the locals were very hopeful one of us would share our story as they'd heard each other ad nauseum. In Beijing, China we saw a fellow we recognized from home, and in Shanghai, I was asked to lead at the meeting in a fancy hotel conference room - how fun is that? My husband and I shared our stories at our friend's meeting in Belfast when we were there a few years ago...  The fellowship is alive and well all over the world. And I know that travel isn't everyone's cup of tea, but it is part of what feeds my soul. As does then coming home. For me, it's the striving for that ever elusive sense of balance, of adventure and the comforts of home.

When I look at my life in bits and pieces, there have been some very hard times, times I felt that the Universe was misaligned. But stepping back a few feet to look at the whole of it, I have been very fortunate indeed, which I attribute to sobriety. Once, when I was involved with a chronic relapser and  had moved into my old bedroom at home temporarily, my mother expressed her sympathy for my hard life. She was thinking of my father's death, my divorce, the ending of another important relationship, my addiction. I remember pausing a moment in the kitchen, then saying, "Well, actually, I have a wonderful life," citing what I'd learned about alcoholism, my education and career, what I'd learned from the painful episodes. Perspective. Perspective and distance. Time really does heal all wounds. The grief is still there. some memories still sting, but more as reminders than a weight to bear. 

One of my online home groups moved to public from a closed meeting in the last year or so. This week, a newcomer was there, bravely sharing their journey up to that point. Oh man, it was a few years before I could say much more than  my name in a meeting without bursting into tears. I so appreciate how we let each other be where we need to be, whether hiding in a corner, or sharing our tears. Whether I'm sharing my spiel, my "pitch," or what's on my heart at the moment, I find comfort in my seat, my place in the circle. I recently heard a woman with 41 years say she is in more a place of listening than talking. I get it. There isn't much going on these days, though I use the Steps as my daily guide, not just in times of trouble (exhaling). I can certainly create drama, internal or otherwise, but overall, can be grateful for the calmness, knowing This, too, shall pass. I sometimes have a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop, but time and experience have shown me that's not how it works. ODAT I'll be grateful for what today brings, including a very long flight followed by a train ride. Onward!

What makes your heart sing these days? How do you view the whole of your life? Maybe a rollercoaster or a smooth ride?  If you are a meeting go-er, how do you carry the message, either overtly or by example?

Fears

 On a morning walk this week, I passed a stained and funky couch, half on the sidewalk, half on the street. It made me think of the old commercial (for Volkswagen??) where two young guys loaded a discarded chair or couch into their vehicle, realizing just a few blocks later that it was way too stinky to take home. That made me wonder how many people younger than me would get the reference, which made me marginally nostalgic for the days when there were three or four TV stations resulting in a shared frame of reference. Going to school, and those early jobs post high school, we'd talk about the previous night's episode of Laugh-In or maybe the Mod Squad. Never again, now with hundreds of channels and streaming services and podcasts galore.

Which is just one more reason I appreciate our 12-Step programs - the shared frame of reference. My "pitiful and incomprehensible" may look different than yours, but we all know what it feels like to put the bottle or the bag in front of everything we hold dear. Like Dr. Bob said about Bill W - Here was someone who spoke my language. I can go to any meeting anywhere and while the customs might be a tad different, the basic message is the same.

Speaking of language, I'm heading to Italy soon to do a five-day walk along the Via Francigena, the whole of which goes from Canterbury in the UK to Rome. I'm just doing a portion, in Tuscany, joining up with a couple of women I met on the Camino last year after my friend broke her ankle. An adventure! Due to some shifting circumstances, I'll have a couple of nights on my own in Florence up front, and one night in Rome at the end. I've been to Italy, both before and after sobriety, but it's been a very long time, so I've been checking out Facebook groups for tips (like, only use the white cabs that say "taxi"). Most of it is common sense, as in, be mindful of one's surroundings, but I found myself in a bit of a twitch with the "what if's??" Kind of like before the Camino last year, I've been picking up on other people's anxieties, so I made the decision to stop lurking on social media. I am a seasoned traveler. I appreciate specific instructions on catching the train, but don't need everyone's worries about wearing the right shoes, looking like a tourist (I am a tourist - I don't mind looking like who I am; I just don't want to act like a tourist), what to do about (fill in the blank). And, this time next month I will have gone and returned. 

And right on time, from Richard Rohr's daily email (4/30), "Ask yourself regularly, 'What am I afraid of? Does it matter? Will it matter in the great scheme of things? Is it worth holding on to?'” Am I afraid of getting lost, or of looking stupid? Well, I've never been so lost I didn't get home, and there probably are times I've looked stupid, which matters SO much less these day (A. No one is paying much attention to me and B.if they are, to heck with them!). Am I worried about pickpockets (a valid concern in tourist areas)? Well, I've taken the advice of how to care for my passport and cash.  Am I afraid of something terrible happening to me while I'm gone, or to a loved one back home? Well, all I can really do is make sure my papers are in order in case I'm the one with the problem, and remind myself that I can always come home early if needed. Of course, I could just stay home, forever, but don't most accidents happen within five miles of home?

The Big Book tells me what to do with my fears - set them on paper, and then ask if I'm relying on myself rather than the infinite Universe - not a deity on a throne handing out kudos or consequences. More like trusting that this life with its ups and downs has a way of working out. I can stay out of my own way and not manufacture my own misery. 

Last week I heard a Fifth Step, and did Step One work with a new-to-me fellow long-timer. Over the weekend, hubs and I spent time with pals, not in an AA setting, but with the program as the framework for who we are and how we came together. As an Alanon reader reminds me, gratitude is a spiritual elevator, and I so often feel that when I'm with like-minded others.

My faux step-daughter had a birthday this week (we say I'm her pre-step mom, married to her father before he met her mother). For a year or two after her dad died, we were in close contact, now that both of her parents are gone. She lives out of state, and as time has passed, our contact is more sporadic, but I'm grateful for the connection, the connection I certainly wasn't expecting when my first husband and I got back in touch in the few years before he passed. Some of the greatest gifts in my life are the ones least expected, like my actual step-daughter, now a grown woman living her dream.

Time marches on, in my own life and the lives of others. Sometimes, allowing for time zone differences, I'll imagine what my former sis-in-law in the UK is doing - having afternoon tea perhaps? Or what about all the 12 Step meetings that are occurring simultaneously around the world, some in the morning and some at night? So grateful to be part of the solution today.

What do you do to re-center if you feel yourself picking up on other's anxieties or moods? Do you utilize the fears inventory, or some other process when you find yourself focused on "what if?!" ? Who, or what, is on your gratitude list today?