I found myself experiencing what the Big Book calls "a new freedom and a new happiness," as I made peace with my internal "should's," most specifically around how I am to spend my time now that my post-retirement gap-year is coming to an end. Maybe, just maybe, it is ok to live in the world gently. Maybe it is ok to listen to my heart instead of my brain, at least some of the time. Maybe what I'm doing is simply enough. 

Why is that such a tough concept? Why did I feel tears come to my eyes with the thought that I'm ok just as I am, that there really isn't anything I have to do? I remember my treatment roommate saying to me, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," and what a revelation that was. Of course, from the outside, it looked like I'd been doing exactly what I wanted, when I wanted to do it, but that was just surface stuff - the cosmic noise of my addictions. What I truly, truly wanted was a simple, reasonably predictable life, a life of college classes and good friends, a tomato garden and trips to the beach. What I had was mayhem, a result of and a response to the company I was keeping and the liquids I was drinking and injecting. I am so very grateful that insanity doesn't rule my life anymore.

What sometimes does rule my life are the internal rules - not the good ones as laid out in the 12 Steps, but the inner critic who still, after all this time, can perch on my shoulder wagging the "more" finger (as in, "You should be doing more.") That energy has intensified as we move out of covid shut downs, the self-imposed pressure to latch on to something outside of myself. But the thing is, I've gotten quite comfortable with this quieter life, and today, finally, that feels ok.  

What I do or don't do with my time isn't really the point. What does matter is paying attention to that list of should's. Are they really mine, or something I inherited from family, absorbed from the greater culture, or merely habit? Long term recovery has given me the ability to observe my thinking, paying attention to any dissonance between  heart and brain. My main question these days has to do with what I might regret not doing were I to learn I'd die tomorrow, and as important, is there something I can do today to move that closer to reality? I don't need to force the issue, but simply pay attention.

Working in treatment, I facilitated a fun art group called "Land of Addiction and Land of Recovery," telling the guys that if they couldn't imagine the Land of Recovery, it would be harder to achieve. Not surprisingly, it was easier for most to draw syringes, prison bars, and bottles. The Land of Recovery usually included a sunny sky, a stick-figure family, and 12 Step symbols. I'm  not sure what I would've drawn in my early months, with a limited view of what life could be, but I can say that all of my unspoken wishes came true, once sobriety became a way of life.

Someone recently posted, "Remember when you wanted what you currently have?" Yes, I do. From experience, I can trust that what is mine to do, or not do, will come to me. I don't need to hunt down my future with a machete. I don't need to try to invent passion where I'm not feeling it. Just for today, I can relax into what is. 

Where do the "should's" pop up in your life? Do you remember when you wanted what you now have? How can you get back to gratitude if you forget that? How can the Steps help you focus on the here and now?

QUESTION - It appears that there is a fairly extensive list of people who receive this weekly post via email. Since no one responds to the posts themselves, I'm left wondering if people are actually reading? A small handful of you sometimes send me emails, but I'm trying to determine if this is still the best avenue for my ponderings. If you are so moved, drop me a "yay" or "nay" at shadowsandveins@gmail.com (or feel free to join the conversation on the blog page itself) to help as I contemplate next steps.  Thank you. (PS, I believe in order to comment on the blog page, you'll need to go to the WEB VERSION of www.soberlongtime.com)

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