I burst into tears in my third meeting of the day yesterday. I hadn't intended to go to three meetings, but after my two Tuesday habitual groups, AM and PM, was still feeling at odds with myself, and knew the 7pm group would be focused on Step 2. I needed to be restored.
I went in to the meeting thinking that my dis-ease was related to the tedium of online orientation for the new job, but as I sat still, bathed in the cadence of the shares before mine, I understood that what wanted my attention was grief over our recently deceased cat. As a friend pointed out, feelings are patient - "they wait." We put the cat down on a Thursday afternoon, and Friday morning I started a new job, with my spouse's shift change two days later, and didn't allow myself any time to acknowledge the loss. When asked by several friends, "How are you doing?" I went right to the intellectual explanation - he'd been very sick, it was time, not suffering anymore. All true, while not allowing space for the sad.
Whiskers, III was a fine cat, the kind who'd trot out to meet me when he heard the car pull up, who loved it when my husband spun him around on the hardwood floor, who purred so loudly at the vet's office, they had a hard time hearing his heartbeat. He was the kind of cat who was always nearby, following me from room to room, to simply nap, or pester us with kitty head-butts until he had his fill of affection. He had a good life, as did we in his company, and... it is ok to grieve.
As I've written before, my feelings generally just want to be noticed, and I'm still taken aback when I catch myself in avoidance mode. I like to think of myself as emotionally sober, which I am, day to day, and... grief can be overwhelming. I don't imagine anyone likes grief, but I know from experience it's better to feel it in the moment rather than the mystery explosion sometime later. Today, I feel relieved of the pressure I hadn't realized I was holding on to. I'm no stranger to the sense of safety that can cause me to tear up just by sitting in a meeting (even online) but it always does surprise and embarrass me just a bit. Oh well. I've always heard that I can't save face and save my ass at the same time. Would not acknowledging grief lead me to drink? Probably not today, and, the lack of self-honesty could very well lead to the slippery slope.
In one of the strong meetings I attended last week, someone shared that with long term sobriety, and inching up on a long-term life, they have a deeper understanding that they will run out of time. I catch my breath even typing that, with my history of Time as a higher power, feeling for so long that there just wasn't enough. As I age, I more fully know that I can't do it all, so what do I want to do with the precious months, days or years that remain? I keep coming back to the question of what I want to experience, learn or release. There are a few things on that list, but truthfully, even that is nebulous with nothing in the "I must!" category. I think that is a good thing, at least for today. Is there a dose of striving left in my heart? A yearning for something I can't yet name? Maybe, maybe not. One day at a time, I'll simply pay attention.
We drove to the coast over the weekend. As much as I looked forward to the outing, I felt off much of the day. In retrospect, I let myself get too hungry, which quickly turned to restless, irritable and discontent. There were too many people on the beach (a three-day weekend - what did I expect?) which meant most restaurants were full, blah blah blah. And... it was a lovely drive, I chaired the nooner at the Little Yellow House, and we enjoyed a pleasant walk on the beach. Attitude, perception, and blood sugar, oh my! I am reminded again and again that the HALTS are not academic. Self-care has to start in the physical realm for me, because it will surely impact my emotional state. I once read that very few people actually have hypoglycemia, which didn't stop many of us from self-diagnosing back in the 80's. Diagnosis or not, I can literally feel it when my blood sugar drops. A long-ago ex used to tell me to eat something when I'd get that wild look in my eyes, but it wasn't until recovery that I learned to always carry a snack. (Thank goodness for the running boom's advent of power bars - it was tough toting around a pbj!)
And so, life moves on - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. The gifts of recovery will always materialize if we work for them. How do your feelings get your attention when you get too busy to notice? How does the power of the "we" help you settle into yourself, whether that is allowing yourself to grieve, or thinking about the road ahead?
(Thank you to the readers who've reached out recently with kitty condolences as well as anniversary celebratory messages.)
No comments:
Post a Comment