January 3rd was the 34th anniversary of my sobriety - or as I recently heard it described, my "surrender date." Yes. That was the date, in 1986, that I woke up in a grungy treatment center at the Oregon coast, hung over, a little wired from the shot of meth I'd done on the way down, and scared to death at what was next. I was afraid to sit on the stained couches, but there was something in the air, besides cigarette smoke. It was hope - hope that my life could be different, that life could be better than the way I'd been living it.  On my way to work Friday morning, the Rascals song, "People Got to Be Free" came on the oldies station. I know they were singing about the social revolution of the 1960's, but I took it as a sign, and what I heard was that I "will know a new freedom and a new happiness" - freedom from my addictions and freedom to fully inhabit my life. Glory hallelujah.

"Fully inhabiting" isn't always unicorns and rainbows. The thing I've been dancing around in recent posts is that, in addition to my good friend with a terminal cancer diagnosis, we've recently found out that my dear spouse has throat cancer. All indications point to a full recovery, though the process has been alternately scary and reassuring, moving from anxiety to trust and back again. (To those of you who know him, feel free to reach out with support, but to quote the Alanon opening, "Please, let there be no gossip..." Any questions, call me.)

Counseling was offered, and I jumped on it, firmly believing in taking advantage of outside help as needed. I felt a surge of pride in our 12 Step programs when the therapist asked how I deal with feeling overwhelmed and I was able to run down the arsenal of coping skills you've taught me and I rely on, almost as second nature. As it tells us in the 9th Step promises, "We will see how our experience can benefit others," which is playing out in the support we're getting from friends who've walked this and similar  paths. I'm also seeing how my experience can benefit me. I've walked through hard times before. I may not know that "it" will be OK on a day-to-day basis, but I know that I will be OK, one day at a time.

I sat in my Tuesday morning meeting in front of placards reading “Easy Does It” and “Keep It Simple,” and realized, as a person who works best with routine, much of my overwhelm has to do with being out of control with the scheduling – it’s unbelievable how many appointments are “urgent” before treatment even begins, and, no, 10:30am on a Wednesday is not convenient. I’m learning a hard lesson, one more time, about what I can control and what I can’t. I can't manage outcomes, but I can manage the day-to-day requirements of suiting up and showing up, and ascertaining when that means saying “no.” Step One is front and center - I am powerless over cancer, over medical scheduling, over my spouse's treatment process, over my friend's trajectory, how the next few months will play out. I can influence how I practice self-care, my willingness to be there, have the tough conversations, set limits, and make decisions about how I spend my precious 24 hours (as in, letting my brain run wild, or focusing my energies on the next right thing).

What is somewhat ironic is that I’d had all my days off planned between now and June, working with my employer to insure that I use what is due me before I retire. "Ha ha," says the Universe. "You only thought you were in charge!" (& no, I don’t really believe in an entity pulling strings somewhere up in the ether). What is also a huge lesson, and I’m not there yet, is around my almost genetic sense of time urgency. Learning to relax into what this day brings, what we learn at today’s appointment, will be my challenge.

It’s been helpful to put pen-to-paper, starting with a fears list regarding both my spouse and my dear friend. On the facing page in my notebook, I also began a gratitude list, and was comforted to see that those far outweigh what scares me. Someone once described gratitude as a "spiritual elevator" that can gently move me from the depths of imagined despair to awareness of the many gifts in my life. 

Which of our slogans have been speaking to you this week (if any)? If you were to list fears and gratitudes side-by-side, what might you learn? What coping skills do you rely on when life hits you harder than expected?