I woke up feeling restless, irritable and discontent, in a bit of a rut - which triggered the urge to get on a motorcycle and ride far away. Never mind that I've never driven a motorcycle - it's more about the desire to simply go.
I then attended my Alanon home group. With the topic of "Choices," I came to realize that, for me, choice has to do with holding still long enough to know what it is I truly do want. Do I truly want to ride a motorcycle into the sunset? Not really. What I crave is the sense of freedom the ride embodies, the sense of endless possibility. As I sat with my emotions a bit longer, I realized that part of what I'm experiencing is the covid burnout so many of us are feeling after 18 months of caution, of shut down, of reopening, of possible shut downs looming. I'm also less than three weeks away from the marathon I've been training for all summer. While I've thoroughly enjoyed the process, including my two stellar compatriots, I'm at the point of being just about done. Marathon training, especially at my pace (running or walking) takes a lot of time. A lot of time. I'm naturally a bit edgy to put all that training to use, finish the 26.2 miles, and reclaim my weekends.
The good news about recovery is that I can take a step back from my discomfort to understand that it is likely related to the training, and to covid, and to having been sick for a week, and the change of season, and all the mayhem in the world. My current state of mind is temporary. I don't need to drink a bunch of caffeine, or buy an airline ticket, or take an unplanned road trip. While I'd rather not sit with discomfort, and in the past might've done something stupid just to be doing something, really, it's about waiting, about staying the course, about holding still and remembering that right here, right now, all is well. It feels like I'm in a holding pattern because I'm in a holding pattern, which doesn't mean I don't go on to live my life today.
It comes back to the understanding that my battle is nearly always with myself. What am I feeling, right now? What might that emotion be attached to? Is the "reason" valid or in my imagination, or simply impatience for something outside myself to change? If someone showed up at my door on a Harley and told me to grab my backpack, would I? Probably not. I'm making jam this afternoon, and have a massage scheduled tomorrow, and we're cleaning the gutters this weekend. The ride is a metaphor, one of my standard escape fantasies. In reality, I pretty much love my life, though sometimes, for brief moments, I forget that.
As I set out on my morning walk, with a bit of an attitude, I was able to recognize my dis-ease as pretty normal, given the circumstances. With each step, I detached a bit more from the maelstrom in my brain to appreciate the beauty around me. (Funny how sometimes I can walk, or drive, for miles not noticing my surroundings). A kid walking towards me had that set jaw, eyes-straight-ahead look that teenage boys so often have. I cheerfully said, "Good morning," and he flashed a beautiful smile, giving me a little wave. A few blocks later, I intercepted a fellow I recognized from a meeting, and we shared a brief program conversation about acceptance. By the time I got home, the rut I'd perceived earlier had smoothed into simply "Tuesday."
There was a fire in July at the apartment complex where my young husband and I lived when we were first married. An article in today's paper notes that the complex was built in 1972 (finished in 1973), and I have pictures of the green shag carpet and avocado countertops to prove it. We were such kids (19 and 21). Our "furniture" was plastic - modular chairs and stools made into a coffee table - very 1970's, a cut or two below what Ikea would offer today. I remember forging a fishing license in order to buy wine at the local convenience store, and the dance parties we'd throw that started at noon on a sunny day and went into the wee hours before piling into someone's car to head out for breakfast. That's back when drinking was (mostly) still fun, thinking of the "fun--fun with problems--problems" trajectory. The newspaper article also noted another fire in September, 1975, where a young woman died. I remember the eerie sound of water dripping and wood beams creaking as we tried to sleep later that night. Some memories don't go away.
But memories, and their hold on me, do shift and change over time. This weekend was my first husband's birthday, and to mark the occasion, my spouse, my brother and I ordered his favorite combo from the old school Chinese place he liked - egg foo yung in his honor. As this now second birthday since he passed came and went, I've moved from grieving for what wasn't in his life to appreciation for what was, and that we reconnected after years of absence. The kindest thing he said to me before he died was that he had no hard feelings. He was certainly entitled to hard feelings, but here, once again, is tangible proof of the power of the Steps.
I'm glad that my Covid illness was mild. I'm beyond grateful that no one in my immediate circle tested positive for the virus (very strange, the trajectory of this thing). And I'm grateful for my health, first and foremost. I'm also grateful for the flow of my days, with particular online meetings, a couple of established walking dates, and sponsor/sponsee time. I'm especially appreciating a small, online, cross-country meeting that friends and I hold every two weeks. I feel energized each time we meet, and am reminded of the saying, "If you don't think your home group is the best in the world, either find a new group, or work to make your meeting better." That isn't always a simple task - meetings ebb and flow over time as members come and go, which has been especially true in this online time. But whether it's a small group out of San Francisco, another gathering of folks from across the US, and our biweekly gig, I've found my particular groove - those places I feel safe and supported, sharing the laughter, the joys and challenges of on-going recovery.
What do you do when you recognize that you're irritable or discontented? How do you move out of your head and into your heart, from annoyance to gratitude? If I came to your home, which of your belongings would tell a story about who you are, or who you were? Which would be most important to grab if you had to vacate in a hurry? And, if you are a meeting go-er, which of your groups do you especially look forward to each week? Do the others members know how much they mean to you?
* * * Heading towards autumn could be a good time for a mid-year check up. See the 11/17/20 blog entry for an excerpt from I'VE BEEN SOBER A LONG TIME - NOW WHAT?, a 78 page workbook on the joys and challenges of long term 12 Step recovery. Go to the WEB VERSION of this page at www.soberlongtime.com to peruse past entries, and to order the workbook via a link at the top right of the page. Thanks for your support!
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