Wednesday, July 8, 2020

I've been to a few good, as in inspiring, meetings this week. I'm grateful that I continue to hear the message of hope and recovery. Years ago, my first sponsor talked about remaining teachable. Sometimes that teaching comes from someone I hear, or something I read, and sometimes it comes from that inner urging to learn more about my psyche. Either way, I'm always appreciative (though often, not in the  moment) that there is still, and always, more to learn.

That being said, I doubt I have an original idea in my head. I'm an end-of-the-pack baby-boomer, which means that what I'm experiencing at any give moment (kid in college, retiring, family and friends dying) has already been felt, written about, and resolved by a few million of my cohort. And, I've been in 12 Step recovery for decades, which means I've sat in literally 1,000's of meetings, listening to the insights shared by my peers. So, thank you for putting in to words the sometimes vague emotions that rattle around in my brain and in my heart. Sometimes it is simply the act of taking my seat in a meeting that allows clarity to surface. Sometimes the "aha!" hits a few days after. And sometimes it is while in the group that I feel the circle levitate with the beautiful combination of honesty and vulnerability and wisdom that signals the magic of the rooms.

The beauty of this thing we do is that I can relate across the spectrum of recovery. Over the weekend, I heard a new person share about the fear of letting go of characteristics that used to work (or so we think when we're drinking) without knowing what's next. Who am I if not a drinker/ controller/ liar / cheat?  Identity as we move from addict to recovering person is a big deal, and for me, involved baby steps and many long, involved conversations with my housemates about this journey we'd undertaken. When the new person shared their fears, I was able to relate, remembering my own early confusion, but I could also apply the uncertainty to so many other transitions since, including my current situation of releasing my work identity.

The Step Group format I follow encourages us to identify an old idea to release each year, via the inventory process. What I know is that old ideas are sometimes hard to recognize because they are my ideas and feel like who I am. But what I also know is that, while a new idea may be uncomfortable at first, I am being pulled, or propelled towards a shift in perspective not because I'm headed somewhere crappy, but because my urgings are tied directly to my heart's true desires. I may not know exactly what that looks like yet, but I can trust the process.

Part of trusting the process is the gift of time, the gift of having "been there, done that." Years ago now, I was sitting on my front porch, crying over a relationship ending, with the sorrowful moan of "I've never felt this awful before."  As I simmered in self-pity, my smarter self came back with, "Wait just a minute! Yes you have. You've felt way worse, over way more important break ups" -  something of a "Get over yourself" moment. (A few years later, I mentioned to a friend that it was the anniversary of that break-up. He asked, "Did you send him a thank you card?")  As the Rolling Stones would say, "You don't always get what you want... but you might find you get what you need." So now, when I sit on the precipice of this new beginning, I can acknowledge that it is a process. I don't exactly know where I will end up, and I know that I've walked through many, many transitions in this life, nearly always with positive outcomes. And if not, I've learned that I have the ability to change my mind. What a concept.

What transitions are you looking at, from the global changes of how we work or socialize to the more personal of new job, new or changing relationship, new home, maybe a new relationship to time or money? How do you honor the process without getting too far ahead of yourself?


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. ALSO to note - from the web version of this page, you can sign up to have my weekly post delivered to you via email (upper right section of the page).

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