In early recovery, I had so much internal chatter (what we lovingly call "race brain") that I could barely listen to the radio. A therapist recommended relaxation tapes to help me sleep, which was great, except when the machine clicked off, I'd startle awake and stay that way. I called it "tuning fork energy," the result of too much amphetamine, a newly developed coffee habit, and the ricochet of neurons coming back to life. One of the counselors in treatment once said, "You don't need speed, Jeanine. You are speed."

Aided by miles of walking, then running, TONS of meetings and inventories, and listening as so many people told my story, the spinning top that was my mind wound itself down and I learned to sleep through the night, pay attention to the conversation I was actually in (vs. the one in my head), eat food that fed me instead of my cravings, and how to say, "Let me think about it," instead of "Yes!"

So, next Saturday I'll be gathering with nearly 40 people I've known since I was 9 years old as we celebrate our 50th 8th grade reunion. I've been doing a lot of the footwork, with help from a small cadre of enthusiastic friends. The healthy end of the control spectrum can be helpful at times! In any event, it has been great fun - connecting with people I haven't seen in decades, tracking down folks with the help of classmate's older siblings, cutting out tiny pictures from our yearbook to paste on name badges...

And, as the event draws near, I feel that familiar tuning fork energy in my chest. It's the same nervous energy that hit me at term paper time during college, or when I had a big meeting at work. I sometimes feel it when I'm asked to share at a speaker meeting, or chair at a group I'm not familiar with. Sometimes it hits me when I'm packing for an exciting adventure, or getting on a plane. It's not an unpleasant feeling, but one that can take me over the edge from excitement to cranky if I lose awareness and perspective.

Simmering in my nervous energy, I realized, during my weekly Alanon meeting, that I've been feeling responsible for everyone at the reunion to have great time (not just good, but GREAT). Like the Director, I've arranged the lights and scenery. I can now remind myself that what happens next is not mine to manage.

How many times, and in what situations, have I taken responsibility for others' feelings? As a little girl, I felt responsible for my Dad's happiness, or lack thereof. When he was down and depressed, I thought it was my fault - understandable from the viewpoint of a five year old, but inappropriate to my adult relationships. The ongoing beauty of having incorporated the Steps into my psyche is that I'm better, and more quickly, able to recognize my "codependent crazies" (Melody Beattie's term). I know that I need to watch my caffeine intake this week, be mindful of my blood sugar, and get enough sleep.The HALT's are as applicable to me with 30+ years as they were with 30 days. Hungry, (resulting in) Angry, Lonely (isolating) and Tired are not my friends, and never were.

As I listen to music from 1968, and giggle with dear classmates and confidants over our grade school shenanigans, I am grateful for the recovery that allows me to be an active participant in this milestone event (loaded Jeanine would've been nowhere to be found). And, I'm grateful that the tools of the program are useful for so much more than sobriety.

What do you do with positive or not-so-positive stress? How do you return to center?