Muddling through

 As we flew back from our visit with family, I half-listened to the flight attendant instruction, thinking I know enough (though I do pay attention to exit door and floatation descriptions!). What struck me this time was the stern warning that there is no smoking on the plane, including the toilets, where there are smoke detectors. And while I do remember smoking my lungs out on flights, I was hit with gratitude that I don't have to tap my fingers in a nicotine fit on a plane. We often hear the word "freedom" as applied to recovery. Yes, yes and more yes - freedom from drugs and alcohol, from tobacco, from the active addict. Do I have my dependencies? Sure - caffeine, a sometimes unhealthy relationship to sugar - but nothing that would have me hiding in an airplane toilet to take a few drags.

On my morning walks, I often cross a street where one of my early sober roommates grew up. Ruth was literally my mother's age, so between me, at 31, our other roommate at 22 (?),we were the odd squad, wildly enthusiastic about the new life we were now living. I miss Ruth. She succumbed to tobacco related illness a number of years ago now, but I'll always remember our shared laughter. And regarding shared love and laughter, this week was the 14th anniversary of my mom's passing. Sometimes I'm hit with a wall of fresh grief, but this years feels more like a sweet acknowledgement. 

I stopped at a friend's today to pick up a pile of medical equipment related to my spouse's pending knee surgery: a walker, crutches, a toilet riser and grab bars. We laughed at the things we now borrow, as opposed to the cute dress or the latest album when we were young. I'm a little apprehensive about the recovery period, but very grateful for good insurance and his good overall health, side benefits of sobriety. And as my Alanon sponsor pointed out, for me, this will be a master class in service and in asking for help. In the meantime, I'll continue to muddle through the piles of paperwork, glad for a background working in hospitals and at insurance companies. The proverbial "they" don't make this stuff simple!

Just for today, I will take a deep breath and do what's in front of me. I will remember that I can't take care of anyone else unless I'm taking care of myself. HALT = hungry, anxious, lonely, tired, with hungry, tired and anxious the prime triggers for my less-than-stellar characteristics! 

Which of the HALTS is your major stumbling block? How do you stay ahead of the creeping discomforts? (It was years before I realized I'm at my best if I always have a snack on hand). What does freedom mean to you in the realm of long term recovery? What is your relationship to your grief these days? How are you able to be gentle with yourself when sad feelings arise?

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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

Trust

 Before my New Mexico getaway, I was privileged to attend an online workshop with Sister Bea, a recovery treasure at 91 years old and 47.5 years sobriety. Ah, the wisdom that comes from those years, and what a sweet surprise to hear that she struggles with the "pause" just like I do. How often do I wish I could grab words out of the air as they leave my lips? Thank goodness for the 10th Step, and for "reasoning things out with someone else" but would be so much simpler (and kinder) if I could do as Sister Bea recommended in a little song (to the tune of "Found a Peanut") Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut...

Speaking of northern New Mexico - it was great spending time with a good friend in those wide-open spaces, with incredible vistas of big sky and mountains, and aspen just beginning to turn autumn gold. At one point, looking out near the Rio Grande Gorge, I thought of Bill Wilson's question - "Who are you to say there is no God?" I can access, or strive for a spiritual connection wherever I am, but for me, there is no denying power(s) greater than myself  (however I do or don't define that in the moment) when observing nature's glory. Can I draw on that sense of serenity when I'm in the midst of the To-do list, or in traffic, or on hold with one entity or another? It's a choice, though it doesn't always feel like it when I'm on that last nerve...  

This is a month of short vacations, this week going to visit the in-laws as well as our AA home-away-from-home-group family. I love our connections over time and space, kept current with the wonders of zoom. Yes, I bemoan technology (we're still working on connection issues) and I love that I can see friends from around the country with the push of a few buttons. 

I've got several medical things coming up - two routine checks and a new diagnostic procedure (when did I get so  many "-ologists?!" I am so very grateful for good insurance, and a general feeling of well-being. I also appreciate being raised by a mother who didn't ignore health issues, but also didn't overly focus on what might be wrong. Her mother was a devout Christian Scientist. When she was nearing death, my mom sadly said, "You don't look like yourself" with Grandma chastising her, saying "You know this body isn't who I am," referring to her belief in her divine soul. Along those lines, I just watched Come See Me in the Light, the documentary about poet Andrea Gibson's cancer journey and death. She battled with fear and acceptance, identification with her body and with her soul, and the love shared with her wife that continues even though she is gone. Which is a long way of saying that today I will trust the process, and my stellar and very funny doctor, ODAT. 

The reality of powerlessness has been present for me lately (always?). How do you get or stay centered in a place of acceptance while striving to change the things you can? Are there places in your world where you feel the higher power(s)? How do you shift to trusting the process when the first instinct might be efforts at control? 

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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

spiritual freedom

 One of my daily readers spoke to "spiritual freedom" this week - the inner freedom that is available to me no matter the outside circumstance. All I need to do is hold still, get quiet within to hear the still, small voice, that may not be a voice at all. I say "All I need to do" as if it is easy, as if I don't forget, daily, to get out of my own way and release the illusion of control. 

An example: I tend to get edgy, a little cranky, when my environment is messy (which is too bad, because I'm not the world's best housekeeper!). These past two week have been chaotic with on-going internet issues and moving dusty furniture and items around for carpet work. Knowing that about myself doesn't necessarily mean I naturally move towards self-care, towards getting centered. It takes awhile, still... And yes, I'm very aware these are "No whining on the yacht!" problems, but knowing that doesn't stop the tuning fork energy as I, again, contact the internet provider, and look at the piles of books, etc, wondering how to rearrange our space so that I don't feel claustrophobic in our home.

My brother is a minimalist (if you don't count his recorded music collection), once asking his wife to box up, or donate, all their kitchen ware save four plates and four sets of cutlery. OK, I kind of get that, though it would make for a lot more dishwashing at our house. He's kept many of her favorite items ( a few tea sets, little cat statues) and weekly buys a flower arrangement for the house in her memory. And, he's slightly appalled at what he sees as too-much-stuff when he comes to feed our cats when we travel. I'll never live as starkly as he, or as another friend who frequently moves and takes very little with him, but/and there is something to be said for simplicity.

Which points me to "Keep it Simple," both in my program ("Don't drink and go to meetings" still works for me) and in life in general. When working, I used to do food-prep for the week on Sundays, and still lay out my walking gear the night before, knowing the less I have to think about (regular) tasks, the more time I'll have for life in general. A past sponsee once said she thought of structure as constricting, but came to view it as a means to more freedom. I have more time for enjoyable stuff if I don't have to search for a clean pair of socks.

This week I'm visiting my good friend in the Land of Enchantment (New Mexico), here to attend the yearly San Geronimo Day festivities at the Taos Pueblo - ancient ritual in the glorious high desert as aspen leaves turn to gold. As much as I love the glories of home, and my daily routines, I very much love a change of scenery

What slogans are your fall-backs? How do you seek, and then recognize spiritual freedom? How do you consciously stay out of your own way?

Shifting seasons

 A cousin on my mom's side, who's lived on the east coast for decades, was in town last week, giving me the opportunity to pass on our grandmother's sewing basket, and a few photos from the 1920's. My mom was the saver of the four siblings, which means I have a lot - grandma's desk, with the little cubby holes for mail, photos (mom's grandfather was a photographer) and various small items. A lot of mom's stuff went to the Museum of the Oregon Trail, and I'm now glad to have identified a second relative who's interested in family history. 

And speaking of mothers, in one of my regular groups this week, someone shared about her mom's recent passing, and the question, "Who am I without my mother?" That brought tears to my eyes, now 10+ years since my mom died. This mother-stuff goes deep, whether it was a positive, negative or complicated relationship. When Mom first went on hospice, a meeting acquaintance pointed out that the journey of letting go is similar for us all, but very personal, depending on our relationship. And, what I learn from others, is that the relationship doesn't really die even though the person is gone. 

In another group, the topic was transition, along with downsizing as a friend prepares to move to a different city. Oh man - that one hit home as we prepared for carpet cleaning, which involved moving stuff off the floor - stuff, stuff and more stuff, including lots and lots of books, some read, some likely never will be. When my mom died, I ended up with three bookcases my brother didn't want. three bookcases just asking to be filled. One has mostly cookbooks, which I rarely open, another has a row of spiritual volumes, from my grandmother's Bible to the Koran to Rumi poetry, and another is chock full of recovery literature. I stopped buying books a few years ago (thank you public library) and am in that place, again, of asking myself, "If I moved to a one or two room assisted living place, what would come with me?" And yes, this is a recurring theme. I have to do a mini-10th Step with myself, asking "So how long are you going to complain about x,y,z before making a change?" Sigh...  how long, indeed.

Ans so, as the season changes (welcome autumn!) I will consider how this time of the planetary shift might open the door for a personal re-set. I've signed up for an adult "life long learning" program, with my eye on a few offerings, my seasonal elections work will begin soon, a couple of short trips on the docket, and, yes, piles of "stuff" to go back on the shelves when the carpet guy is done. I want to be more deliberate in my choices, both with physical items and with my time, as in how and where to spend this precious resource. What moves my Joy-Meter these days? Am I spinning-my-wheels busy, or busy with tasks and engagements I enjoy? I vow to pay closer attention to my gut, to my heart, one day at a time, one choice at a time.

What have you learned from loss? Has that shifted, as a person in long-term recovery? How might you utilize the energy of the season shifting to determine if any changes are in order? What moves your Joy-Meter today, and is there a reasonable balance between that and all the things that need doing?

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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