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

We can do together...

 We were in internet purgatory for a week and a half, which involved lengthy phone conversations with robots and humans, changing appointment times, spotty connections, blah blah blah. Due to the type of phone plan I've had, and going over my allotted minutes, I temporarily turned my smart phone into a dumb but serviceable phone only (calls and texts). I'll live, obviously, but my discomfort is an excellent indicator of how accustomed I've become to having a brain in the palm of my hand. As much as I complain about technology (more accurately, my lack of knowledge) I very much appreciate being able to check the weather in Timbuktu, describe a symptom to Dr. Google, or throw in a few words from the Big Book to learn what page the passage is on.

Luxury problems abound, depending on where I steer my attention. Is it "me, me, me - wahhhh!" or can I shift to "Ah, well, now I have more time for reading/gardening/playing with the cats"? I can turn just about anything into a "problem" or  I can focus on the MANY positives in my day. Bottom line, I am alive, sober and reasonably healthy, today.

I mentioned that I ran into the best man from my first marriage at the grocery store. I posted our picture, and, as expected, got many comments from people we grew up with. As a friend once pointed out, he grew up in a small town, while I grew up in a neighborhood - a neighborhood that encompassed our high school and the 8+ feeder grade schools full of  baby-boomers. Many of us stayed in the area, or our parents did, so it makes sense that I so often see those from "back in the day" at the store, or sometimes out for a walk.  

It's kind of like that in AA, with "neighborhood" defined by area of town and meetings attended (before or after covid). We share meeting lore, from old-times to newcomers and everyone in between, like the stellar Saturday nooner where many of us were watching The Sopranos on TV, often quoting from that week's episode in our shares, or dinners after the Friday meeting where we'd laugh so hard we could barely eat. And then there were 6 of us from that Friday group, plus 1, who went to Paris, with 4 of us running the marathon. I can remember shares from long ago, bits of wisdom I carry forward, sometimes conjuring the one who shared who's now in the big meeting in the sky (or is nowhere, depending on your belief system). 

So, yes, I love the neighborhood aspect of our program, but also the anonymity that has me relating to someone I've never seen before. A fellow chaired our group this week that I didn't know, and if I'd seen him out and about, wouldn't have recognized him as "one of us." I love how we can go incognito, out living our lives as people in recovery. Of course, there's the guy with the NA keychains hanging off his belt, or the young woman I saw at a race with "I've been clean for 6 months" on her t-shirt, but usually we're just going about our business, then sharing stories around the metaphorical campfire when we gather.  

And the whole thing about "we do together what we can't do alone" keeps coming up. This week was now the second time I was asked to sign as witness to a friend's end-of-life planning documents, and as I've shared, several times I've helped a program elder move into assisted living. I've shared details of my cancer journey with those newly diagnosed, just like I reached out (reluctantly) and someone shared with me.

I recently unearthed a book I "borrowed" from our grade school library called Put Your Best Look Forward. Originally written in 1957, it was outdated by the time I got to it in 1966 or 67, but I was so hungry for guidance that just about anything would do, even this book that had very un-feminist advice about how to develop "feminine allure" (Geez, I was 12...) with instruction on diet and exercise, having a pleasant voice, make-up - the whole shebang. Couple that with pop songs of the day (as in "I'm nothing without you") and no wonder I was thirsty! Back then I didn't know I could ask for help or advice - from Mom, friends, friend's older sisters, etc. Again and always, so grateful that I've learned I don't have to figure it all out on my own, whether that's silly, like asking a glamorous neighbor how to wear a particular scarf, or more seriously, how to walk through mine or a loved one's illness. Oh how I used to complicate things...

Who are your go-to's for life advice or support? How do you feel about asking for help these days? How might you move the meter to gratitude if you find yourself in a snit?

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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

Memory

 

I recently went through my God Box, which I’d heard is a good thing to do every so often, just to see what had me worried and has since resolved, and which situations I couldn’t even remember. It had been nearly 6 years since I’d done it, so there were notes about the pandemic, my spouse’s cancer and mine, my 1^st husband’s passing, retiring… And, as expected, all had been resolved, one way or another, in my time or not.

I know the God Box, or God Can, or call-it-what-you-will receptacle is merely symbolic, but I am a person who appreciates ritual, a concrete representation of what my psyche is reaching for – clarification, resolution, letting go, whether that’s writing a letter to someone who has passed, writing my worry on a piece of paper, lighting a candle… For me, there is healing, healing and a means of definition, if I put pen to paper or talk it out with someone else, or imagine my concern going up in a puff of smoke. My brain can still be a sketchy neighborhood if I go there alone.

Case in point – one of my spouse’s sponsors attends a meeting I go to regularly. Rightly or wrongly, I tend to temper my shares if I’m in a room with people who know us both – especially Alanon, since most of my “isms” in that department are related to my interactions with hubs. Well, this week I decided to out myself and my likely needless worries, so I approached the guy, only to find out he didn’t even know who I was. “Who’s your husband??” he asked. “Oh.” So, one more time, I’m nowhere near as important as I sometimes think (!) and now he does know who I am. And probably not paying much attention to me. Years ago, a friend surmised that after 3 or 4 minutes of a share, people tend to check out so it doesn't really matter all that much what I have to say. I tend to believe she's right, thinking of a few times I was literally crying my eyes out during a share, only to have someone come up after the meeting and say, "So, how's it going?"  Of course, sometimes I say what I need to hear, with the truth I may not have recognized until the words were spoken. 

In our monthly Old Codgers coffee date, a friend wondered about memory and our tendency, as we get older, to talk about our youth, or with her kids, about their growing up years. Is it because there's so much in there? Lovers and travels and conversations of long ago, people who moved away or passed on, books read...  Some of those memories are poignant, some faded and some sharp and clear as a bell, like the old-timer Norm B welcoming me back to my second meeting, remembering my name. It's not that life isn't interesting today, but "Do you remember the time?..." takes me many places, to many people.

Speaking of, yesterday was the anniversary of my first marriage, in 1973. I tend to post online about it, and about him. I'm friends with his family, he was part of our high school crew, and maybe most importantly, my current husband welcomed him into our family.  Coincidentally, I ran into our best man at the grocery store the day before - definitely a voice from the past.

I had a co-worker who talked about her "starter marriage." I find that term dismissive, but it kind of fits as a description of the immaturity that had us thinking we were grown ups but acting like high school kids. I do remember the excitement, the hope, the belief in "happily ever after" that propelled us to a wedding, back in the day when my mother didn't want us simply living together like couples were starting to do in the 1970's. The weekend dance parties on the green shag carpet only carried us so far as depression struck for me, realizing that I didn't know how to cook (at all) and that my young spouse had no intention of vacuuming. We plugged along for about 5 years as my alcoholism took hold (he was the first one who said, "Why can't you stop with one or two?!"), and both our infidelities tore apart the flimsy vow we'd made.  A lot of water went under the bridge from then onward. I'm so grateful we reconnected in the last few years of his life - he was a better friend than he was a husband. And, I'm forever thankful that, when he knew he was dying, he told me, "Just so you know, I have no hard feelings - for any of it." And he sure could've, but for the healing power in living amends. 

What of your amends have been especially meaningful, whether a direct conversation or the changed behavior variety? Whether or not you use a "god can," what are some situations that had you in a knot but have since resolved? Are there particular rituals or tools that help you release the illusion of control? 

 * * * * *

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

Grow or Go

 "Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tip toe if you must, but take the step."   from Sermons on the Couch, 8/23/26

A few weeks ago I mentioned an acquaintance who said she loves a spiritual nudge, in response to my saying I've felt a bit off. I'm realizing that I don't necessarily welcome the nudge, the nudge that often means stepping outside my comfort zone. That comfort zone is WAY bigger than when I first got sober, but the edges are still there, whispering, "No!" or "Beware!"

Many years ago now, a friend introduced me to Runes, the small stones that can be used to access my inner wisdom, much like Tarot cards. When I got my own set, I repeatedly pulled the stone described as "disruption," and within the next couple of years, the boyfriend left, the job ended abruptly, I moved, people died...In retrospect, other than losing people, the endings were gifts, the Universe doing for me what I couldn't do for myself. And.... there is still a part of me that imagines the "nudge" as a push off a cliff. I'm not a great fan of the unknown. Sure, give me a nudge, but maybe along with a preview or a map!

And then one of those crazy coincidences showed up. For a year or so I've been vaguely considering attending lectures a local university puts on for seniors (as in elders). It's near my house, some of the topics look interesting.... maybe someday. I'd gone so far as to track down the webpage last Sunday morning and penciled in the upcoming orientation - one step at a time. And then, in my Sunday in-person group, a woman came over to chat about the Eugene conference, morphing into chit chat about being introverts. Seemingly out of nowhere, she mentioned that she participates in the adult learning program I'd just looked up. A cosmic connection, or perhaps a spiritual nudge??

And, on Friday, when I reminded the meeting acquaintance about her spiritual nudge comment, she replied, "I said that??" and we agreed that it's probably best to pull that nudge in close, just to keep an eye on it! Always the reminder that I'll know what I need to know. In the meantime, I'll attend the orientation for the adult learning program...

I recently read The Measure of My Days by Florida Scott-Maxwell. Written in 1979, when the author was in her 80's, it is essentially her journal of aging. While parts felt dry, and I'll admit to skipping ahead, I was interested in how she described "the paradox of old age, where the physical body grows frail, yet the inner mind and passions burn brightly." I'm not there yet, but I will admit to having books and papers and boxes of photographs that I imagine myself spending time with "when I'm old." 

Before I get "old" - ha ha, "older," I am committed, right here on the page, to getting my affairs in order. Essentially they are, in that I've prepaid my funeral expenses and have a will, but would my spouse or brother know where to find those documents? What about the bills that come to my personal email? I often tell my husband that I need to know what of his belongings and collections are important, but I need to do the same. What of my trinkets or tchotchkes are actual collectibles or have family history significance and what are simply memories that only have meaning for me? 

 I'm not exactly on the verge of Swedish Death Cleaning or becoming a minimalist, however, I certainly can tidy up. A friend once told me how he and his siblings labeled items in their mother's house, so they'd know who got what when she passed. I could do the same. For example, who would appreciate the 2nd edition Big Book that a cousin passed on to me from her grandmother? Is my box full of ticket stubs worth anything more than the stories I attach to the events? In a box, somewhere in the back of a closet, sits the pair of shoes I wore climbing inside one of the pyramids at Giza in Egypt, the absolute coolest thing I'd done in life up to that point. And... essentially, it's a pair of old shoes in a box. Should I frame them in a shadow box? Hang them on a wall?  How about take a picture, then put in a donation box? Even thinking about digitalizing the photos from that time, I ask, "Why?" To look at when I'm "old"?  To save for who?

On one of those many pieces of paper floating around my desk are notes I took from a de-clutter post. What strikes me today is "Memories live in you, not in things." That can be tough for this daughter of a Depression Era mom. Things can act as a prompt for memory, whether my original Big Book with treatment pals autographs or an ashtray from my first trip to the UK.. I guess part of it might be to consider that if I don't have a memory without seeing the thing, maybe it isn't such an important memory after all. 

Some memories will likely never fade - like those triggered by the 40 year old scars from shooting up , or the photo that reminds me of the time my brother and I smoked pot together for the first time (after burying our dad in the sand at the beach). I drove to the coast yesterday for brunch with my first sponsor, and that particular stretch of highway has many memories, from childhood to the drinking days and recovery. 

It was great to connect with my former sponsor. She had three-ish years when we met, and I though she walked on water! I'm grateful for the wisdom and gentle guidance she shared and that I still draw on. It's pretty simple - don't drink and go to meetings, and "you either grow or you go." Like me, she's a meeting go-er. Why would I stop doing what works?

Where in your life might you be feeling a spiritual nudge? How might you remain open to whatever the Universe is trying to tell you, however subtle that might be? Are your affairs in order? If not, what is a small action you could take, "just in case"?  What did you learn from your first sponsor, or early meetings, that still ring true today?

 * * * * *

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