I attended a great meeting this week where a friend pointed out that, while this time last year we had no idea what was coming, in reality, we never truly know what's coming. A global pandemic, a diagnosis, a forest fire, fender-bender, falling in or out of love, losing a pet-companion - we just never know. 

Residing in that place of not-knowing, of daily surrender, is a prime challenge of my recovery. It's that sage advice of keeping my head and my butt in the same place vs time traveling to some distant experience (what I imagine that experience to be). This is similar to a new year's resolution I once heard in a meeting - the vow to only talk to someone who is actually in the room. Right here, right now, is all we really have.

Old thinking tells me that life will be better/smoother/easier when...  things calm down, I leave that job (or start a new one), I get back from vacation (or leave the country), this or that person changes (which they don't), I finish the Christmas candy, the rain stops (or starts) - you get the idea. And, I'm probably not alone in bringing this mindset to the pandemic, as in "life will get back to normal (define as you will) when everyone is vaccinated, when everyone wears masks, when we can leave home without a plan (mask in pocket? where are the bathrooms? who will be there?). The truth is, this looking forward to post-pandemic time is really just a variation on the theme of my life, sober and pre-recovery - looking ahead to the mirage of smooth sailing.  

And it is a mirage. Life is life. I had a wonderful holiday, and spent some time sobbing over those no longer here. I don't really mind "stay home, stay safe," and I mourn the mountain of loss we've all experienced - so many lives lost, plans cancelled, businesses closed, people in line for food boxes, racial reckoning, unfathomable destruction from wildfires, social unrest that still scars my city... this has been hard. Much harder on others than on me, and it is important to acknowledge my own sense of grief.

Which brings me back to my seemingly innate desire to predict, while at the same time, looking to the horizon for better days. These are the better days. I'm sober and healthy, as are my family members. And even when me and mine are up against it, I have the foundations of recovery to walk me through. Even when the world seems to be untethered from sanity, I can choose to focus on the kindness of strangers coming together in times of need, the beauty of one hand reaching out to another. 

Today, I am at peace. Sunshine helps, as does the glimmer of hope leading to the new year. I'm coming up on 35 years recovery, and am looking forward to various zoom shares. I'm looking forward to the incremental return of the light, and re-starting my walking group. I'm looking forward to my appointment with the resale shop, to see how much of my former office-wear they'll be interested in. I look forward to the fresh pages of a new journal and calendars as I create space, psychically as well as physically.

When I was nine or ten years old, Mom put us to bed on New Year's Eve saying, "I'll see you next year!" I started to cry, thinking she was going away, struggling with the concept of one year becoming another while I slept. I can still get in a place of either wanting to stop time, or hurry it up, while amazed that in the blink of an eye, I'm 66 with long term recovery. My challenge in the coming days is to be here, and not put too much emphasis on our arbitrary markers of time passing.

I fully expect to be asleep before midnight on December 31, much preferring early mornings to late nights. How will you spend New Year's Eve or New Year's Day? Do you have a special ritual to help release the old and welcome the new? What do you look forward to in the coming winter months?               ~Thank you, for riding out 2020 with me. Here's to 2021!

~ Just in time for your year-end inventory  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

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, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

 I chaired a meeting this week on the dichotomy of feeling like I'm not "enough" while also thinking I know what it is you need to do. The reading I referenced (Courage to Change, July 26) pointed out that my efforts at control are an illusion - I am only in charge of myself. And, as was pointed out in the meeting, the feeling that I'm not ok is illusion as well. 

What stories have I used to justify my actions and dress up my false beliefs as facts? I used to think that I was a defect of character, that I was broken, that the answers to my problems were outside of me - the right relationship, right job, right clothes, etc. Time, Step work, therapy and sponsorship, as well as simply growing up, have walked me down a different path - one of greater self-acceptance and understanding that, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz (which I recently watched for the 1,000th time), "There's no place like home." That which I seek is already in my heart, if I but listen. 

Another old storyline had to do with my ability to fix you. I remember buying a pair of snowshoes for an ex, who had depression, because we went once and he liked it, a rock polishing kit because he admired a friend's collection, and drawing supplies because he'd done that in the past. The illusion was that I could have his "ah-ha" moment for him and, thus, get him off the couch. Like with my dad all those years ago, I thought he'd be ok if I came up with just the right formula. It took our break up to realize my attempts at control (otherwise known as being helpful), trying to arrange the actor and the scenery to my liking, not because I'd been asked to do so. Lessons.

A sub-topic of the meeting was a question I heard years ago: What if god really is running the show? Or, from a secular viewpoint, "What would it be like to fully accept that I am not in charge?" What does it really mean to surrender? Not to an entity, but to the knowledge that I'm ok, that life has a way of working itself out, that if I focus on today, I can walk through just about anything by getting out of my own way.  I had a good talk this week with someone who doesn't know that yet, who has forgotten she simply cannot know how she'll be feeling next February or March or April. "2020" is all I'll say on the topic, as in, "Who saw that one coming?"

Which is the primary lesson I've learned this past year - I can plan, but I cannot predict, having to do with travel and parties and my own growth trajectory; with friendships and meetings and how I will navigate what's ahead. For the past 16-17 years I've hosted a women's Solstice circle where we talk about what we want to leave behind and what we hope to embrace as the new year looms. This year, like nearly everything else, we met on Zoom. I was inspired by our resilience in the face of personal struggles, and our ability to practice the principles of recovery even when things are crappy. I breathed in and exhaled deeply as women shared about letting go of outcomes, the importance of self-care, the gift of focusing on the positive, and the newly honed understanding that I am, truly, powerless over so very much. 

What I'm not powerless over are my actions, my thoughts, or my feelings. (As I've read, I'm powerless over my first thought, but not the second.) Along with how life has changed in the time of Covid, I think about the gifts of this past year: My relationship with my first husband's daughter that continues to deepen and grow, my spouse's recovery from cancer and our redefinition of what matters, the ability to get outdoors, alone and with friends; the gift of our online meetings and long phone calls, the joy of getting and receiving mail. The relative isolation of the pandemic has definitely highlighted the importance of relationships that I took for granted when connecting in person was easy. 

And so, as this year draws to a close, I look forward with hopeful anticipation. In our previous life, a long time member of AA handed out small white "surrender" flags for sobriety anniversaries. Mine rests in a mug decorated with a grid of the London Underground, along with a random collection of pens and dull pencils. Instead of looking past this little banner as I sit at my desk, I will use it as a visual reminder of the freedom I feel when I get to the spiritual place of letting go. 

How are you feeling about the approaching year? What hopes and dreams are quietly tapping at your door? During these darkest days of the year, try to take some quiet time to listen, and perhaps, to write them down.

** Just in time for your year-end inventory  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

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, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

A meeting topic last week had to do with ideals, based on a reading from the Big Book, page 70, that says we are sure to drink again if our conduct continues to harm others. This section of the book specifically deals with sex, but the chairperson extrapolated the message to all our behavior in the world - how do we treat our fellow travelers?

This chapter counsels that we should turn to a higher power to shape our ideals. At the beginning of my recovery, that prospect scared me. I had the notion that if I truly practiced Step 3, I'd need to sell all my worldly goods and move to Calcutta to work with Mother Theresa. I had a hard time reconciling what I thought of as "happy, joyous and free" with the underlying notion of earning my way back to full humanity after all the crappy things I'd done. Even now I notice a slight hesitation at the thought of shaping my ideals based on my highest good, as if my highest good would be something negative or punitive. 

What are my ideals? The dictionary definition is "a standard of perfection, a principle to be aimed at." What jumps to mind, of course, is the 12 Steps - our philosophy of unity, recovery and service, being open, honest and willing to both behave in a loving manner today, and to amend and repair where we falter. Am I doing my best to strive towards those principles? I so appreciate the small note in Step 12 (12x12) that describes Step 7 as asking for our defects to be removed based on the condition of the day we ask. Some days I'm able to pause, some days not. I can always try again.

The winter solstice is next week, which coincides with an astrological "great conjunction," where Jupiter and Saturn appear to meet in the sky (happened in 1623, but last visible in 1226). I'm not a huge follower of astrology, but I appreciate the cosmic reminder that life is, that life goes on in the tides, the rain, the seasons, and the planets regardless of what I'm experiencing. In any event, this year's solstice in particular, the day of the conjunction, is a good time to set intention. What does that mean in the time of covid, this altered reality we've been living in for nine months now? It seems that my new year intentions will be internally focused, more home and heart-based rather than what I want to accomplish. Where and how do I want to grow in application of recovery principles? Where and how might I deepen my spiritual connections so that I'm better available to be of service, be that in program or the wider world? 

I came across this lists of questions - good for any time, but especially helpful as I take stock of the year that is passing and plan for the year ahead:

What do I want more of in my life?  Less?

How have I contributed this past year, and what might that look like going forward?

What truly matters to me?

Does my daily life reflect those ideals?

What do I want to learn?

What do I want to practice?

What do I want to complete/end/let go of?

What do I want to experience/enjoy?

What does it mean for me to be well? to thrive?

Best wishes to you as we move towards the darkest day of the year (here in the northern hemisphere) and approach the return of the light (and a happy summer solstice to you down under and elsewhere in the south).

** Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory.  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

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, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

I've found myself wrestling with Step 11 recently, tying myself in knots as I try to figure it out. I'm not sure when or how I moved into define-and-explain mode, but have come to re-understand that my spiritual connection is a feeling, not a thinking exercise. 

Over the past year or so, I've found myself being very careful not to talk about my beliefs, or to do so in a very generic way. For me, it's something of a Tradition 10 issue - no opinions on outside issues. I want everyone to feel comfortable in a meeting - Christian, Muslim, Jew, Atheist, Pagan, Republican, Democrat, etc., which means, for me, I don't talk politics and I don't talk specifics about spirituality. How can anyone describe that stuff anyway? And... I feel that something is missing. 

I know that my experience of AA/Alanon and spirituality is very different at 34+ years than it was at three months, or three years when everything was shiny and new. I find myself longing for the feelings of awe and wonder that accompanied those early light-bulb moments. Alas, as I've aged, the novelty has pretty much worn off, or so I think until I hear or see something that takes my breath away. Like last week, when a friend shared about being a good dad and I teared up remembering when he was new and we'd metaphorically wager as to whether or not he'd make it back the following week. That miracle of recovery, of changed lives, is a piece of my higher power(s). I can sometimes feel a meeting almost levitate, when your spiritual energy bounces off mine like an electric current. And, as much as I appreciate our online connections, it just isn't the same as when I can see your tears, watch your hands shake as you pick up your coffee, or feel the rumble of your laughter.

Do I think that I've stayed sober because of some supernatural intervention? Not really. I'm the one who gets myself to meetings and puts pen to paper. I do think it was some combination of grace, pain, and desperation that got me to the point where I'd have done anything to stop hurting, and being in the right place, at the right time, where I connected with people who are still in my life today. God? (Gift Of Desperation) Coincidence? Timing? I don't know, and if I could explain the forces at work in the world, I wouldn't need them. I surrender to the mystery - the mystery of the starfish and the Douglas Fir; the mystery of love and attraction, and of the hopeless drunk who becomes a sober, good father. 

I walked with a friend last week, and when she asked, "How are you?" I was tempted to say, "I'm good," and change the subject. Instead, I talked about all of the above, and how it has felt like I'm pretending not to have a spiritual life. That's what my malaise is really about - not the particulars of my  belief or practices, which grow and change over time, but about being genuine, and true to myself instead of what I think you want to hear. It's about trusting someone enough to say, "This is what's going on," not out of any desire to get fixed, but to hear myself say what's been rattling around in my head. 

And so, the wheel keeps turning. I will continue to be a seeker (I'm currently appreciating the Alternative 12 Step book as an adjunct to the 12x12). As I study and apply Step 12 in December, I'll reconsider what it means to be of service in the time of covid along with how I'm practicing the principles in all my affairs when there aren't that many "affairs" I'm participating in. Service, as well as practicing the principles, doesn't have to be some grand gesture. Maybe it's extra cash in the tip jar when I take-away. Maybe it's a check to the local food bank. Maybe it is intentional kindness to those I interact with instead of my usual hurry-up. Maybe it is being fully present for the 5th Steps I'm hearing this month. And maybe it includes cutting myself some slack in the "should" department.

Today, I picked up a friend (masked) and we went to another's home for a holiday cocoa party, just the three of us, distanced. I've known both these women since 3rd grade, 1963, and we're all in recovery. One moved away before high school, but the other and I were part of the same nebulous park gang that drank our brains out on any given weekend. Such a gift, these friendships over time. I get a little misty when I picture us at 9 or 10 years old, playing hopscotch on the playground, or at 25 when Deb and I sang, "Give peace a chance" at the memorial following John Lennon's murder 40 years ago yesterday. Time is no longer my enemy, though I can feel full to the brim with memories. I think that is a good thing. Some of the past I do regret, but more now falls in the category of sweet remembrance. 

As the end of the year draws near, and a holiday season like no other commences, how are you taking care of yourself , one day at a time? What is one nice thing you can do for yourself today? How about for someone else?

 ** Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory.  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

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, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

 I've been in recent meetings chaired by people I've known for decades - one a regular meeting go-er, the other, not so much. What struck me is the variety of how we stay sober. Some people "put the plug in the jug". They stop lying, cheating and stealing, do the Steps once or twice, and have an improved life for a very long time while seeming to just scratch the surface. Then there are others who go deep, making regular practice of the Steps, looking beyond their superficial defects of character to underlying causes and conditions; people who exemplify the principles of the program, whether attending meetings for the long haul or not. Those are the people I listen to most intently as beacons of how to navigate life. I don't care much about the stuff you've gained - houses, cars, spouse. I want to hear about how you answer the 3am demons, what you do when you feel adrift, how you maintain connection to your spiritual source(s). I'll never forget the older guy in an out-of-town meeting who had a great share, sounding like a guru, and then not thirty minutes later, I observed him being incredibly rude to a woman in the grocery store. Surface recovery, or the real deal? As we're told, it's not enough to talk the talk. And, as long as we don't pick up, we're doing something right.

I like to think I'm in the deep end, but will acknowledge that it depends on the season. Sometimes my fields are fallow as I rest, ever so gently, on my laurels. Other times I'm up to my eyeballs in revelation and excavation, prompted by a life event, or perhaps something I've read or heard in a meeting. Sometimes my "searching and fearless" is triggered by a walk in the woods, when I'm able to breathe into nature's stillness. Sometimes the going deeper is accompanied by "This again?" as I circle back on a characteristic or relationship. Always, always, my seeking is related to looking at what comes between me and serenity, whether my own "instincts gone awry" or momentarily forgetting my powerlessness over people, places and things. This never-ending program offers the gift of growth through the years, if I'm willing to do the work, both in and out of the rooms.

There was a time when the never-ending piece scared me. In my first year of sobriety, Bruce, an old-timer, leaned down on one elbow as he surveyed our meeting room, snarling, "Don't let this 'one day at a time' crap fool you - we're talking about the rest of your God damned lives." The rest of  my life. The rest of my god damn life. At 31, my perspective was limited. I'd see the old guys (and it was mostly guys) in their regular seats and think, "You poor old suckers - don't you have anything better to do?" And now I'm one of them, reveling in the understanding that I have lots of better things to do because I'm in my appointed spot each week. And I can only hope to be doing this for the rest of my g.d. life.

One of the pursuits I picked up in earlier recovery was distance running. I'm slow, but point me in one direction and I can go a long way. Migrating from running to walking has been tougher emotionally than I'd anticipated as I relive past accomplishments, with a bit of longing for the satisfaction of a 20 mile trail run. But I've realized much of what I enjoyed about running is the same when I walk - being outdoors, actually living the seasons; the feeling of accomplishment when done for the day, the sense of community whether I'm at the back of the pack, or somewhere in the middle (Bonuses: I can eat before I head out, and am more inclined to stop for a photo or to pet a neighborhood cat. Maybe this is a good thing - that "Slow down, Jeanine" I've heard for so long. Time will tell...) 

I can appreciate the passing of time, and enjoy my memories, while embracing the now, which means I've found my new sport - distance walking! I'm getting ready for a virtual half-marathon (13.1 miles) and may even tackle the full 26.2 in the coming year. While I think of myself as a solitary runner/walker, I'm realizing just how much I enjoy the camaraderie of putting in the miles with my peers. Spending anywhere from one to four hours with a person over the weeks creates a bond as we talk about aches and pains, recipes, relationships, family, life in general. And while that bond is often event-specific, it is real nonetheless. Kind of like our meeting relationships. I may never see you outside the home group, but our connection is genuine. Wish me luck as I continue to let go of one identity while embracing another.

And here we are in December; December 2020 no less. I'll be gathering (virtually) with my Step Group this weekend to talk about how we applied Step 11 during November. It can be a delicate balancing act between making plans and letting go of expectations, surrender and action. My fledgling meditation practice has faltered this month, victim of an abbreviated morning routine. But, I've long said my gut is my barometer, my internal Step 10, 11 and 12. This thing does "become a working part of the mind," just like Bill wrote all those years ago.

How do the maintenance Steps manifest in your life? Thinking of this challenging time we're experiencing, would you say you are in the deep end, or treading water? How do you balance doing and being, surrender and letting go? What, or who is it you need to release today? 

 ** Just in time for holiday planning, or your year-end inventory.  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

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, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time).