Wednesday, May 27, 2020

In a work meeting this afternoon where I was the lone contractor, it was mentioned almost in passing that my farewell party couldn’t happen after all. This is after I was told I should buy my own cake, then informed that I couldn’t bring in cake, but individually wrapped treats were ok, and after I saw people eating a homemade cake in another department. What gives? Behind my mask, I had to force back the tears, feeling like a six year old who’s balloon had just been popped. I followed the big boss out of the room later, saying that I felt like I was getting mixed messages, so what is the actual deal, which turns out to be no “formal gatherings.” I get it. I truly do. No one knows what’s next with this covid stuff - the roller coaster isn’t personal. And… my feelings were hurt, and I was embarrassed that my feelings were hurt, thinking I should be more mature about the whole thing. It’s only a party.  

As I left for the day, I chatted up a few line workers, telling them I’m leaving,  realizing as we joked around that this is what matters – connecting with people I’ve worked with over the past 10 years, talking about our local basketball team, one person's experiences as a child in the killing fields of Cambodia, another's recipes from his home in Guam, another about our shared high school alma mater. We don’t talk politics at my workplace – too diverse a spectrum – but we do talk about sports and health and fitness and once, a man asked me how he could help his daughter sober up.

On my short bike ride home, I had to pass a caravan of ratty trailers and RV’s, parked along the side of the road for weeks. I went by one woman just as she was preparing to pull out, driving a dilapidated sedan with an overflowing and filthy trailer attached. As I rolled by, I glanced at the driver and realized, “Oh my god, that could be me” – similar facial structure, minus the teeth, similar hair color, looking like three years of tweak rolled into an afternoon. This time, I nearly cried with gratitude. Instead of chewing on my tongue while trying to figure out where to park my beater car with the expired tags, I was riding my bicycle home from a job I’ve enjoyed, doing work I’ve loved. You really don’t get here from there, not without the smidgen of willingness that said “ok” when my ex said I needed help, and the example of 100’s of people who were in the rooms of recovery when I got there.

As I kept riding, thinking of what might’ve been and the shift in perspective seeing that poor soul gave me, the section on “acceptance” came to mind. “And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place think, or situation – some fact of my life – unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this  moment.” (p.449 or 417).  I don’t even know if things are “supposed” to be the way they are, but the fact is they ARE the way they are. End of story. Because of the corona virus, I and countless others are missing out on the rites of passage that mark the move from one way of being to another – proms and high school graduations, college commencements, mourning rituals, and yes, retirement parties. In the grand scheme of things, my loss isn’t that big a deal (I tell myself) and rituals do matter. It is important to acknowledge both what is, and the loss associated with what isn't.

I will say, I’ve been all over the emotional map lately. On Saturday, listening to an oldies album (Burt Bacharach, if you must know), I found myself literally weeping with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. A friend let me know he’d been crying too, dubbing it “quarantine melancholy.” A couple of sponsees have also shared that they had rough weekends – maybe the pandemic is catching up to us. I tend to pooh-pooh my feelings because my situation “isn’t that bad.” True, and, feelings are feelings and the magnitude of loss, my own and our world’s, can be overwhelming. 

In the meantime, my immediate co-workers will make cupcakes and we'll have a tailgate non-party in the parking lot. I will send emails to those who've impacted my career, and will walk through the facility seeking out my pals (with or without individually wrapped treats). I will smudge, and schedule a Tarot reading, along with a massage when those are allowed. And later in the summer, friends and I will dance to old Motown and disco in the local park, insuring 6 feet of distance between. 

Thinking of this limbo we're in, are there occasions or rites of passage you've had to forego? Even the ritual of attending a meeting, where so-and-so always sits in that chair and you could recite the opening by heart, can create an emotional vacuum. What is missing in your life today? How are you both acknowledging that, and looking at ways to comfort the broken places? When I look at loss, I also balance it out with gratitude - what are you grateful for today, because of or in spite of current circumstances?

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

Wednesday, May 20, 2020

"It’s not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over.”  
  ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna wasn’t writing about “stay home, stay safe,” but she sure could’ve been. While things are visibly loosening up here, the days can still feel like a perpetual Groundhog Day, the movie where Bill Murray lives the same twenty-four hours over and over again. In most of the meetings (zoom) I’m attending, folks are sharing about their ups and downs, from acceptance to irritation to fear and back again, as well as gratitude for our individual circumstances, especially sobriety. If I were drinking & drugging, I can almost guarantee I wouldn’t be following any old stay-at-home orders. But, I learned in early recovery that whatever I'm feeling in the moment will pass (happy or sad, good mood or pissy). My challenge is not to make any major decisions when I'm in a funk.

I've come to realize, yet again, that one of my coping skills, and one I overlook too often, is the power of connection. Last Friday, I went for a (masked & distanced) walk with a good friend I don't see much anymore. During the course of our visit, I apologized for letting "life" get in the way of time together. The drift came on subtly - new husband, conflicting schedules, the couch calling my name after work...   And then I wake up and realize I've been married nearly 9 years and what started as an adjustment has become habit. Living with someone for the first time in just under a decade, I relished both together time and the luscious solitude between our shifts. I guarded that time, which meant less hanging out with friends. I usually just want to get home. Some of that home urge is probably a natural evolution of aging - I need to pace myself in ways I've never had to before. No matter what my internal self thinks, I am old.  And, I'm very aware that’s a privilege. Sunday was the anniversary of my father’s birthday. He died at 56. I will always regret not having a sober, adult relationship with him, in the category of “if I’d known then what I know now." I can use his brief life as a reminder to truly live today, which means both celebrating all that goes in to the word “home” and maintaining and nurturing my important and valuable friendships.

Someone in a meeting this weekend reminded herself of the slogan “Get out of the hallway,” related to the annoying adage that “god doesn’t close one door without opening another.”  Ugh, and not always true. Sometimes I need to hang out in the hallway for a while. The trick is not to set up a lawn chair and get comfy. Right now I am very much in-between, not very productive at work, while itching to make that final leap into freedom. My replacement was designated last week - one more step in this part of the journey.

My husband’s first sponsor often said to him, “Do the work and the gifts will come.” Yes. Sometimes the gifts of recovery are wrapped in sorrow, loss or change, and sometimes in ribbons of joy. Either way, all I really need to do is suit up and show up, just like the old timers used to say. Suit up, show up, and pay attention to those little nudges that say, "Pick up the phone."

What are your coping mechanisms when life feels either topsy-turvy or outright boring? If where you live is opening back up, how do you feel about that, and how will you continue efforts to stay safe while venturing out? What does suiting up and showing up look like for you today?





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

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

As I've been noting on these pages, my intended last day of work is June 15, capping off a 30+ year career and 10 years at my current employer. I had grand plans for my departure, including two work parties and a big celebration with friends, as well as traveling to the AA International Convention in Detroit, plus lots of free concerts in the parks over the summer. Cancelled, cancelled, cancelled. Zilch, nada, never mind.

Because of the virus, we are down two staff  and are limited to the services we do provide based on our Governor's order of no more than 10 people in a room. This has made for some creative finagling of space and time, while wearing masks and gloves. Never a dull moment as we try to recreate a program after 49 days of "stay home, stay safe," and I'm busier on the front lines than I've been in years.

To that end, I've twice offered to stay a little longer, or come back part time. They haven't yet chosen my replacement, and I hate to leave my co-workers in the lurch. The first time I offered, my supervisor said, "That's ok" and the second time, she ignored my question. I'm taking the hint that it is time for me to go.

I realized, over the weekend, that I have a case of separation anxiety. Saying "good bye" is not something I'm very good at, be it a job or a relationship that no longer fits. Heck, I hang on to cardboard boxes, and houseplants that are way past their prime. I attach, which can be a nice thing in the long run, but not always in the short. Sometimes, you just have to let go.

I naturally find myself reflecting on my career as I clean out files at the office and think about the journey from frightened and self-conscious trainee to competent professional. The funny thing is, on paper, I didn't qualify for the last 3 jobs I've had, but was in the right place at the right time. I can use that as an example of getting what I need, when I need it during these bouts of insecurity.

And so, my lesson, in these final months, continues to be about letting go - of what I think I need, of how I think things will work out, of what is next. Those would be lessons of a major life change on a good day - even more so during this time of covid when what we know shifts from one day to the next. Suit up and show up - those early instructions continue to apply, despite my efforts to complicate matters.

So much of what I've done since getting sober has felt like a calling, something my psyche pressed me to do: my long career in addictions treatment, pursuing a Master's Degree, completing my novel, writing the Now What? workbook... That also applies to certain jobs and relationships, whether getting in or getting out. When I get still, I know what to do - which doesn't mean I don't then question my decisions. I'm coming to understand that doubt is part of the process.

I suppose, then, that a bit of separation anxiety is to be expected. What do I do with those feelings? Today I wrote a recommendation for the person I hope gets my job, and started to cry - for me, for him, for the next phase of both our journeys. I was alone in my office, and let the tears flow, anticipating that there will be more in the coming weeks. I can remember that "being human is not a character defect" and that sadness and grieving is a reflection of love. I've loved my career, and I've been good at it. I can celebrate that as I step away, knowing that the good work I started will continue, one person at a time, one day at a time.

When I stumbled through the steps of a smoke-filled treatment program in 1986, I had absolutely no idea where the path would lead. It was not my intention that my decision to take a break would turn into a lifetime of abstinence and recovery. I could not have imagined the wonderful and tragic places the journey has taken me thus far. I wonder what's next?

What do you do when faced with the need to make a decision, big or small? How do you handle any creeping doubts? What helps you trust the process?


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



Wednesday, May 6, 2020

Following last week's post, a reader asked which Steps I adhere to, in inventory and otherwise. The short answer is, "many." I was raised in AA in the Big Book. Over the years I've done the Step 4 columns as outlined, various worksheets, and most often, a pen-to-paper narrative of what's on my mind. In small groups, or solo, I've worked through the Steps via the 12x12, the Alanon literature, A Woman's Way Through the Twelve Steps (S. Covington), One Breath at a Time (K. Griffin), and whatever else may have crossed my path, including a group I've participated in for several years following the format from a Lila R workshop. I'm currently appreciating The Alternative 12 Steps (M. Cleveland and Arlys O), a secular guide to recovery. My most recent 4th Step was from a format that lists current fears, and discerns whether they are real or imagined. I am not a purist when it comes to working a program.

I'm also not hardcore about much of anything other than "Don't pick up." In early recovery, I met with a group of women every week to explore various spiritual paths. Once we did Hindu chants, another time, guided meditation; one week prayers to Mary, another, drumming. Having grown up with a linear view of the world, I cried out in frustration one week - "Which one is right?!" My friends answered, in unison, "They all are!"

And that's how it works for me, today. I am of the "Take what you like and leave the rest" club, as well as "We cease fighting anything or anyone" (big book, p. 84). In early recovery, the capital "G" god bothered me, and still does to an extent, as it implies a certain brand of dogma. But, as one of my treatment counselors was known to say, "Oh well..."  I have become fluent in translating the "god" to grace-over-drama (thanks to a sponsee), group of drunks, great outdoors, etc. I don't fight the literature today. I do form it into what works for me, or seek something that does. The "He" of the "We" is bothersome, but in most meetings in Portland, readers feel comfortable substituting "She" or "It" or removing gender all together where possible (though that can make for some very awkward sentences). I do hope that future versions of the big book or 12x12 modify the gender-specific language, but for the moment, I'm able to work with what's in front of me.

And that's the point for me - the Steps work in my life, whatever slant I may put on them at any given time: I surrender to what is. I get out of my own way. I examine what stands between me and serenity and how my behaviors impact others. I talk about that with a trusted other. I amend what needs amending. And I strive to live in such a way that my actions don't hurt others going forward. And you, please, do what works for you. I know that there are many paths that lead to sobriety, and many roads to follow in recovery - programs, religion, family connections, meditation, walks in the woods.  And, some people just quit. More power to them. If the hell of your addiction and alcoholism was anything like the hell of mine, do whatever it takes to get and stay out, and maintain a bit of sanity and serenity along the way. I needed a structure to crawl my way out. How I've used that structure, or modified it, and gone back to basics only to drift off in another direction again, has changed over the years - as it should (in my opinion). My first sponsor used to say, "You grow or you go." I take that to mean in my spiritual life as well as my dealings in the world.

My old buddy, Boxcar Leonard, was an atheist. He had a whale of a story, drinking sterno while riding the rails, shipwrecked in the South Pacific, shanghaied out of a bar and waking up 3 days at sea. He'd occasionally mention his lack of a belief in a higher power, but mostly that was a private matter between him and his sponsor. What he did believe in was AA and the power of recovery, and he shared that far and wide (at least up and down the I-5 corridor). And when we said the Serenity Prayer at the end of a meeting, he skipped the "God" and joined in on "Grant me the serenity." It worked for him.

That being said, I know that words matter, and I have choices today. If something doesn't feel right, I can move along. I can ask others what they're paying attention to, what drives them, what inspires them. Long term recovery has ended up being a series of trying things on to see what fits. My spiritual resources and connections are my spiritual resources and connections. Sometimes I celebrate that with like-minded others, but mostly, mine is a quiet surrender, a seeking to hush the internal chatter so that I can hear the still, small voice of wisdom.

I am back at work after nearly 50 days away. Getting dressed and leaving the house in the morning has felt a little like, as a kid, putting shoes back on in September after running around barefoot all summer. And it is good. And it is temporary, as I eye my retirement date mid-June. A few people have asked what I plan to do next, as in consult or work part time. I am heeding those further along the path who, to a person, counsel against rushing into just another version of an agenda. Take your time before diving in to the next thing, they tell me. Don't be in a hurry to fill your calendar, they advise. Listen for what it is you want to do rather than what you think you should do. I will do my best to simply show up.

Welcome to any new readers prompted by the AA Agnostica post this week. Though most readers tend to "converse" with the topic via email, I do welcome any comments you may want to add to this page. Glad you are here.

And so, what are your spiritual resources at this point in your recovery, and has that changed over time? How do you work the Steps - from a book, a format, or your own interpretation? How is your recovery helping you manage in these strange times?  Stay safe...


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