Is anyone else thinking about their age? I know that not all long-timers are literal old-timers, but many of us are, and I have to keep reminding myself that I am in the vulnerable category. Maybe less-so than some others, as I lace up my running shoes, but I am 65, no matter what my inner clock tells me. I carry around an internal 12 year old hooligan, a 20-something drunk, a 48 year old marathoner, and, I've been on the planet for 65 years.

Probably when I was about 50, I rode the max train downtown to June's annual Starlight Run. I stood near a group in their early 20's, laughing and joking, like we do in groups of our peers. At one point, someone said, "I don't ever want to get old - I'll kill myself first." Suddenly, all eyes were on me as one of the boys said, "Shhhh! and looked my way." I simply smiled, but as I exited a few stops later, turned and said, "Getting old isn't that bad - you'll be surprised at how much fun you'll have."

I had to laugh with those kids, thinking of all the times I thought that this age, or that age, or another, would mean the end of life as I knew it. Now I know that, yes, it has, and can add, "thank goodness." Who I was at 37 or 53 or 16 is a part of who I am today, but is not exclusively who I am today. And I am grateful for all that has gone in to that conglomeration of experience and history - my parents and other elders, my teachers in recovery over the years, life events, both positive and not so much, and, learning over time that the saying, "this too shall pass" applies to every.single.thing.

I need to admit to a crying bout over the weekend. I am SO disappointed that the International Convention has been canceled. I understand - bringing 50,000 sober alcoholics and families to Detroit when no one knows the trajectory of the pandemic is not a good idea, and I was so looking forward to the celebration. I chose my retirement date based on the conference, intending to mark my personal independence, and was very excited to visit Hitsville USA, the Motown headquarters, among other things. And in the grand scheme of things, this is a luxury problem. As a friend pointed out, everyone is losing something during the virus. I am beyond fortunate enough to be able to absorb the loss. And, it is important to acknowledge and feel the sadness before automatically moving into "I'm fine" mode.

I saw an interesting interview with David Kessler, who worked with Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, regarding his new book, "Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief." In the interview, he described our collective mourning around the loss of the world as we know it. He pointed out that life has changed, and that, going forward, we will mark time from before the virus and after. I think of all the losses, some great and some small - the loss of life is the big one, for ourselves and loved ones, but also the loss of work, of routine, of high school or college graduation ceremonies, vacations, the freedom to come and go... There is the loss of a sense of safety, of invincibility, of trust in the status quo. It is important to mourn.

And, for me,  it is equally as important to then face what needs to be faced. My burden is minuscule as compared to others. Besides my material comforts, I am sober. I have a program of principles and tools that guide my life, not just during rainbows and sunshine, but during the dark times too. I started Sunday in a mopey mood, and after sitting in on my virtual home group, experienced that attitude adjustment that is available if I'm paying attention and getting out of my own head. A 2 year anniversary, someone with 5 days, another person at their first meeting, other's sharing what gets them through - all served to bring me back to the here and now, where everything is ok. I've had enough to eat today and I know where I'll be sleeping tonight. Life, in this exact moment, is good, or should I say, "good enough."

All of the online meetings I'm attending focus, at least partially, on the disruption of the virus. That is a good thing and shows me that this is not a "new normal," but a (hopefully) temporary abnormal. In the meantime, I can go on my porch at 7pm every night to "clap for the caregivers." I can attend my regular meetings, and tomorrow, dial in to our home-away-from-home group in San Francisco (where we won't be going in May). I can pick up the phone, read some literature each day, and suit up & show up (remotely) where needed.

One day at a time, we're now into our 3rd week of the "stay home, stay safe" in Portland. How are you adjusting to the expectations in your city? Are you on the roller-coaster of emotions, or have you found stasis? How are the slogans and tools of recovery helping you maintain?  Best wishes to all, with hopes that we can ride this wave and come out of it sooner, rather than later.

I have been getting out to the Post Office, so the Now What workbook is very much available:

NOTE: “I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information