This past week, my Alanon home group, which meets Tuesday and Friday mornings, started a two-month experiment of once weekly online and once weekly in-person. I don't usually attend on Fridays but wanted to be there for our return to the circle. I get choked up thinking about how happy we were to see each other in the flesh, and to get those hugs we'd been missing for literally two years. Yes, yes, yes to gratitude for online meetings, and I'm ready to steer my personal program towards a combination of zoom and in-person. It's been a long two years.
What's interesting is how many people in meetings have said they haven't minded pandemic living. Actually, my brother says the same thing - he's a homebody anyway, so no real changes to his routines. I ride the line between cozy contentment and the need to hit the road (literally or metaphorically). I will say that the pandemic has added a level of scrutiny to decisions: Who will be there? Is everyone vaccinated? Is a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd worth the anxiety? Sometimes yes, sometimes no - and I fully realize that I am one of the fortunate ones who hasn't been directly touched by the devastation.
After last week's post of the "google 10th Step," a friend added: 4b) Forgive myself for mistakes made, so as not to "beat myself into a relapse". (thanks J.D.) Yes. I can clobber myself for even the smallest faux pas or error - from losing a grocery coupon at the bottom of my bag, missing out on a time-sensitive bargain - to the bigger screw ups of hurting someone's feelings, past or present. Lack of power was my dilemma and sometimes it is lack of perspective that is the trouble. What are my priorities, and can I truly live in the space of forgiving myself for being less than perfect? One day at a time.
This has been a week of friendship, family and connections, with an in-person meeting (we've met in a park, online, in backyards and living rooms, masked and un-masked for the duration), a sweetly fun visit for our daughter's birthday (ahh - to be in my 20's again, but only if I could re-do it sober!) and friends coming from out-of-town for the weekend. And another dear friend just celebrated 9 years of sobriety! As part of my morning practice, I spend a few moments in gratitude for the many gifts of recovery. Some days, the same things on my gratitude list are on my "Grrrrr what's wrong" tally, but overall, I do my best to maintain an attitude of gratitude. Thank you, Mom, for your eternal optimism that apparently rubbed off.
Whenever we celebrate my stepdaughter's birthday, I think of the passage of time, but also where I was at the same age - in this case, married, promoted at work, drinking my brains out on weekends, and getting at least tipsy every evening. I also remember the excitement and possibility of youth, when it felt like the whole world was waiting to be explored. Is it possible to bring that expectantly positive energy to my 67-year-old self? Can I be both comfortable and feel hopeful anticipation for what lies ahead?
It's different, obviously, when the end of the journey is closer than the beginning. On one hand, I can look forward to diminished capacities, but on the other, I imagine the possibilities of doing what I want, when I want (within reason!). I think it's a balancing act. Too much comfort and satisfaction can morph into inertia which slides into the retrogressive groove, while a blasé been-there-done-that quickly becomes "Is that all there is?" Staying teachable, remaining curious (and taking naps!) can help me remain in a place of open-minded wonder, trusting that all is unfolding as it will, without my wranglings. I can be mindful of all that life's journey has taught me to this point while remembering that I'm not done just yet.
How has your life changed these past two years, and what, if any of that will you hold on to as we move forward? If you find yourself simply going through the motions, how will you re-engage with your life, open to new energy in what you thought were old dreams? And always, what is a small measure of self-acceptance you can bring to mind the next time you make what you consider to be a mistake? (and remember, some say there are no mistakes - merely opportunities for growth)
See my post from 2/4 for information on the Now What? workbook, now available for $12.95 as a PDF sent via email, or $19.95 for a spiral bound copy mailed to you.
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