As our home group opened and I listened to the cacophony of Zoom voices reciting the Serenity Prayer, in nothing resembling unison, I was reminded of all the people around the world who were settling in to their meetings. Early morning, nooners, late evening (depending on the time zone) - there is power in the collective, if I remind myself so. I can feel marooned on my tiny self-centered island, but all it takes is a breath, and a glance at the global availability of 12 Step gatherings, to come back to reality. Alcoholism is a disease of isolation. Covid is a disease that requires isolation. Balancing the positive and negative effects of solitude is the task of the month.

It's telling that our local Sunday paper had an entire section on "Beating the Blues," describing  covid time as "boredom on steroids" (included was a full page related to online alcohol and addiction recovery). When in doubt, I find that a nap can alter my attitude, as can doing the next right thing, however mundane. Cleaning the cabinets, vacuuming the couch, thinking about that back closet, etc. can distract me from whatever longing I might be feeling for the freedoms of a coffee date, an indoor meal with friends, or a trip to the gym. Some days I simply muddle through.

And then, inspiration shows up, this week in the form of a 78 year old member of my walking group, who's fast pace shoved aside any notions of age-restrictions. Inspiration also shows up as young moms I see in meetings, balancing work and babes in arms, men who share raw emotion, or the front-line workers who just keep showing up to shelve groceries, drive the bus, or deliver packages, not to mention the healthcare professionals who demonstrate heroism every day. I see role models, not measuring sticks, learning how I want to be in the world from their examples of courage and fortitude. How can I be part of the solution today?

*  *  *

I am working on a return visit to the re-sale store, where they've expressed interest in some of the items I've been hauling around for decades - the beautiful fireplace set from a previous life (we don't have a fireplace), the three-foot tall hookah from that same previous life; an old sewing kit, some glassware - all things that have held sentimental value, sentimental value that lessens as the years go by. And, if I'm being honest, how much meaning does something have if it is crammed onto a shelf in the garage? Will I make a few dollars? Possibly. Mostly, I'm happy to have found a place that is interested in the accoutrements of my past, eager to release the cringe of  "I really should do something with that." Creating space, both in my closets and my psyche, allows the freedom of creativity. I can feel weighed down by volume, by the dust that hides behind bookshelves full of knick-knacks, by the drawers full of art supplies I've not used in eons. Letting go of items that no longer have meaning is like an exhale, and further evidence of the cycle of life (we learn, we acquire and strive, and we let go). I'm a saver, but I'm also practical. What use, really, is a hookah?  It is time to ask myself those questions about what matters, what will I actually use going forward, what would I miss the most if the house were to burn down? Eat off the special dishes, light the fancy candles, buy ink to use with those calligraphy pens! "Later" is now. 

I know about a dozen people who've received their first vaccine. For those of us still waiting, these could seem like the longest months. Have your coping strategies changed over the past year? What role do meetings or the fellowship play in your peace of mind? What is it you look forward to, once we have more (and safer) freedoms? 

 

 

Last winter, when we were still out and about, I crossed paths with a young woman wearing a stunning pair of forest green heels. Complimenting her, I asked if they were comfortable. "No," she replied, "But they're so cute it doesn't matter." Oy vey. How I could relate, whether we're talking shoes or jobs or relationships. Form-over-substance ruled my way of being in the world for longer than I'd care to admit.

What brought the green shoes to mind was my trip to a consignment shop, toting, among other items, a gorgeous pair of platform boots, circa 1978. As beautiful as they are, I only wore them once or twice, unable to reconcile the pinched toes with fashion. I remember asking myself, while still in high school, when I might trade looks for function and start wearing sensible shoes. It would be a while...

And how I recall, early in recovery, questioning whether or not I this new sober lifestyle would fit. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a "productive member of society." It sounded boring, as did meeting someone for coffee (which I never touched until getting sober), parties without booze, dancing without being under the influence, pizza without a pitcher, on and on... But, the old way of life certainly wasn't suitable anymore, and maybe never really was. I became unwilling to squeeze my existence into the tiny box my life had become, even though I had no idea what "happy, joyous and free" might look like.

I think that, as a practicing alcoholic, all those normal, social things would've been boring were I to do them with a "When is my next drink?" mentality. It continues to amaze me how, within days of my surrender, life really did "take on new meaning," and new definitions of fun. Stupid, boring and glum has NOT been my experience.

That being said, a friend and I have been talking about the fine line between a helpful habit and a rut (I've heard it said that an alcoholic will take a rut, install indoor/outdoor carpeting and call it home). I've read that too much routine can cause the days to pass mindlessly, then boom! it's six months later. That certainly feels relevant, having started the pandemic shut down/slow down in March, which is nearly one year ago now. I've read more books, watched more movies, walked more with friends, and some days, recently, have felt the constriction of same-o, same-o. So, where can I mix things up, besides putting on earrings to visit the dentist? On Tuesdays, a neighbor and I do a five-mile walk in the neighborhood, up and down a series of 12 hills. This week, we did it in reverse order, and threw in a set of public stairs (there are several flights along the Alameda ridge). Hard work, but energizing - a new view. 

Along those lines, I can find myself in a rut with my daily spiritual practice, sometimes going through the motions while already thinking about the next item on my to-do list. How do I stay present? How do I greet the day, or the situation, with engagement rather than detachment? Ah, the on-going quest of long-term recovery! I meditate at the same time each day, as that part works, but I've started varying my practice to include guided offerings switched up with nature sounds or silence. I do my best to alternate desk time and active time around the house each day. I'm approaching my Step work assignments with a fresh eye, using a new Big Book that isn't already underlined. Small steps.

Over the weekend, I was honored to listen to an AA speaker, June G, now with 48 years of recovery. She spoke at the first International Conference I attended, in Seattle, in 1990. Her story inspired me then, and today, via an online conference. I'm grateful for the continuity. I'd also like to acknowledge the sobriety birthday of my best friend's sister, Kim. Her recovery paved the way for his, which impacted mine, and still does. The "ripple effect" applies to the benefits of sobriety as well as the destructions of addiction, a reminder of how we simply never know how our recovery may influence another. 

I walk with giants, some of them speaking grandly from a podium and some in the quiet voice at the back of the room. I learn as much from the newcomer as those in the middle years and beyond. Remaining teachable, I continue to seek the reassurance, the example, the lessons you provide. Some days I'm the teacher, and others, the willing student. 

How might you shake up your covid routines to avoid getting stuck in a rut? Who in your past, or present, would you thank if given the opportunity? If there are parts of your life or program that feel like they don't fit, how will explore new ways of being?

Still time for your new year 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). (Price break for locals who can pick up their copy - $15)

Whatever you may be sure of, be sure of this, you are dreadfully like other people.                                             ~ James Russell Lowell

Ah, how I hated being told, "You're right where you're supposed to be," throughout those sometimes confusing early years of recovery! 30, 60, 90 days, 18 months, the "year of the tear" (2 years), and who can forget being a 3-year wonder? In hindsight, I'm grateful for the markers, and the wisdom of my elders letting me know I was right on schedule, but at the time I was insulted. You don't understand...  Thankfully, they did.

I'm thinking about identity on this sunny January day, prompted by attributes shared about me over my sobriety anniversary, the whispers of "should" that have crept into my consciousness, as well as an old letter I came across from 1978 (age 24) where I tell my then-new boyfriend what I knew about him and what I knew about myself. Twice, alcohol comes up, as in, "I enjoy drinking" and "I lack self-confidence when I'm sober," along with "I have trouble discipling myself" (no s**t). While some of the list is silly ("I have ugly feet") I'm mildly surprised at how much still fits: I don't like hot weather; I love autumn and rain; I want to travel; I keep everything; I need to be alone sometimes. While I may have thought my character wasn't solidified until I got sober, it would seem that at my core, I am who I am and was probably always.

In my "victory lap" meetings, a few people described me as a "rock," and while I pointed out that, rather than a rock, I am an introvert, I do know that I am consistent (thank you, dear Mother). I am a planner; not spontaneous, and I generally do what I say I'll do. I can be bossy (ask the cousins I grew up with), and sentimental. And, while my individual characteristics may be slightly different than yours (or my extroverted spouse's), I am "dreadfully like other people," which is a blessing and a curse - the "we" again and again. 

That being said, I am experiencing something of a psychic rearrangement, an identity shift as I more fully settle into this life of not working. These first seven months have been delightful, a relief, and I've recently felt the whispers of "should," as in I should be more productive, I should be doing more. (Again, I'm right where I'm supposed to be in the adjustment phase.)

The speaker in our Friday meeting said, "'I don't know,' is sometimes the most spiritual thing I will say in a day." That's a tough one, but liberating in the way that Step One is liberating. Surrender. I don't need to know. I don't have to know. I can't possibly know. I can attempt to heed friends' descriptions of being gentle with themselves as they find their way, asking, "What works for me, today?" 

For the last few years I craved  time. Time to do what I want, when I want. Time to actually clean out the fridge, de-clutter the hall closet, time to read a book in the middle of the day or go for a mid-week hike with a friend. What else may rise to the surface? What might happen if I simply sit still (metaphorically!), waiting to see what's next instead of trying to push ahead?

My sponsor pointed out that this is truly a place to let the process lead me. Another good friend pointed out that those she knows in the helping professions are often hard on themselves - the "never enough" syndrome. I'll take a look at that. I can honor the aspects of my upbringing and my own treatment experience that resulted in a calling to serve, while knowing that I cannot fix all the need there is in this world. And, I was reminded that service starts with self-care. 

Going in to this new year, I will take stock of my strengths, places where the edges are a little rough, and characteristics that simple are part of who I am. There is an AA wallet card titled "My Daily Moral (ugh) Inventory" listing personality traits that are liabilities and the corresponding asset, for example Self Pity - Caring for Others; Impatience - Patience; Isolation - Participation, the idea being that nearly every trait can be viewed on a continuum. I can drop the sledge hammer of "should" and move towards self acceptance, using the 12 Steps, meetings, and conversations with trusted others. 

What traits do you appreciate in yourself? If you are in transition (new job, new home, new schedule, maybe a milestone birthday - sobriety or "belly button"), how are you allowing the process to proceed without expecting yourself to be further along the path than you might actually be? How are you being gentle with yourself vs hammering with the "should's"? What does it mean to accept that you are "dreadfully (or wonderfully) like other people?

** Please note the new resource listed: amotaudio.com for free streaming of program speakers as well as downloads and CD's for sale.

~ Just in time for your new year 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). (Price break for locals who can pick up their copy - $15)

My program feels ignited after listening to an amazing New Year's day talk by Lila R, as well as celebrating my 35th year of recovery on Sunday. "Grateful" does not begin to describe the joy I feel at having been given a second chance at life all those years ago.

Before signing on to my home group Sunday, I said a little prayer that I be open to hearing the nice things that might be said. Funny that after all this time I can still sometimes feel like an imposter, the "if they really knew me," stuff. As I settled in to the various shares, I understood that any compliments coming my way were simply a means of paying homage to the program, to the "we" that keeps us coming back and doing what we need to do, one day at a time. And I know that any successes I've had are strictly due to your examples of courage, strength and hope as you deal with life on life's terms. 

As I walked in the rain the other day, it struck me that the worst part of walking in the rain is sitting in my warm home imagining how miserable I'll be. Once out in it, properly garbed, the rain simply is. For me, the worst part of getting sober was standing on the other side of that canyon, imagining how scary or miserable I'd be without a substance to buffer my insides from your outsides. Lo and behold, once over that hurdle of day one, I began to understand that all I really needed was the strength to get through that day, and then the next, and the next. Reality is rarely as bad as I anticipate it might be.

As it is January, I am focused on Step One, the admission of powerlessness, which I'm translating into a daily surrender. I am not in charge, and started my new Step notebook with a list of all that I am powerless over. It can be tempting to simply write, "everything," but I find it more helpful to be specific: the corona virus, my spouse's sleep schedule, my brother's health, zoom vs in-person meetings, the grieving process - and more, including the appalling display in Washington, DC today.

The 12x12 Table Contents describes the admission of powerlessness in Step One as "the first step in liberation." It certainly was that for me. I'd thought I was supposed to be able to control (and enjoy) my drinking, that I was weak-willed for not being able to do so. Thank goodness for Leonard C's instruction that "Will power will not keep you sober, but want power will!" True 35 years ago, and true today. Want power keeps me on the beam.

In her talk, Lila encouraged us to read the literature with passion, like someone who wants "more." As a practicing alcoholic, I always wanted more. As a recovering person, I want more serenity. I want more spiritual connection, more happiness and contentment, more inner peace. I will admit that I am not a Big Book scholar. I tend to skim, focusing on the sections I've already highlighted, a "greatest hits" approach. This year, however, I plan to study the Big Book with journal pages I bought a few years ago  - a fresh start. Who knows what will grab my attention this time through? The eyes I read with at 35 years sobriety are different than my perspective at 30 days, and I value my recovery as much, if not more, today than I did back when I wasn't really sure what I was getting in to. Let me remain teachable. Let me remember that honesty, open-mindedness and willingness are essential however many days I've managed to put together.

What is your frame of mind going in to the new year? What will you do to shake up your program, to keep it fresh? Is there someone who could benefit from your experience, or perhaps someone you can learn from?

~ Just in time for your new year 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). (Price break for locals who can pick up their copy - $15)