Speaking of aging, I learned that my first husband's cousin is turning 75 next month. I saw him two years ago and was surprised that the handsome guy I'd known after high school was now a gray-haired, slightly stooped older man. In my mind, he and his girlfriend were forever super-cool, a few years older than my then-boyfriend and I, with an apartment in the posh west hills and a party every Friday night. Sometimes I'd wake up in my own bed on Saturday, head throbbing and not at all clear about how I'd gotten there. I like to say I wasn't a blackout drinker, but not knowing how one got home might qualify...
How grateful am I to be fully present today, to know where I am when I wake up, and who it is next to me. Other than one incident of food poisoning, I don't think I've vomited in over 35 years (which used to be a regular occurrence) and I never have to spend half the day on the couch drinking 7-Up, lulled in and out of sleep by daytime TV. I haven't thrown a dish or slapped anyone for decades. And I don't ever need to drive with one hand over an eye to try to keep the lane lines straight.
It has been a long time since my last drink. I know I'm not immune, regularly hearing folks talk about the intrusive thought that whispers, "Maybe I'm not really an alcoholic," or "I'd sure like to run away from these intense feelings." I don't spend a lot of time contemplating recovery - these days it is simply the way I live - but I do pay attention in meetings to those who are brave enough to tell the rest of us when the disease comes knocking.
I get a daily email from Richard Rohr (Center for Action and Contemplation), one among several sources, both secular and traditional, that I look to for inspiration. (I was sad to learn that AA Agnostica has stopped their regular posts). He recently addressed recovery, saying that "personal authenticity isn't how intensely we can express our feelings, but how honestly we can look at where they're coming from." Isn't that the truth, and "hello inventory!" For so much of life, well into recovery, my emotions were BIG, sometimes overwhelming. Remember the old recovery saying - Don't bother looking for your feelings, they'll find you? I was always a feeler, but as I navigated life sans substances, I had to remind myself over and over again, "feelings aren't facts, feelings aren't facts" when it seemed they'd come in on a hurricane.
In treatment it was suggested we come at life with a balance between thoughts and emotions - too much one or the other could lead to regrettable or impulsive decisions. I can think my way into a knot, and conversely, can feel my way into a puddle or a rage, but listening to my heart, my gut, seems to hold that magic of stability, emotions that point the way with a dose of logic.
I'm taking a road trip over the upcoming weekend, helping a friend move from 150 miles north of me to 500 miles south. I enjoy the open road, even if merely the "super-slab" of Interstate-5 with an assortment of snacks, and either good tunes or maybe an AA speaker on the stereo, passing fields and towns and time in conversation. With the wonder of zoom, distance isn't the deterrent to connection it once might've been, though somewhere in a box are letters and postcards my friend and I have exchanged over the years, not to mention an email folder, and the long string of texts. Friends warrant attention, and some get more than others. The raucous, group-oriented gatherings of earlier years (potlucks and dances, volleyball games and picnics) have given way to a movie here and there, a dinner date or coffee, or the occasional hike. A group I've known since grade and high school now meets once a month at a nearby restaurant, our equivalent of old codgers at the barbershop. As life, via both aging and the worldwide pandemic, has slowed down a bit, I want to be sure I don't slide into isolation mode. It's always a fine line for me between over and under scheduling. What is right today?
Do you notice when the dis-ease comes whispering in its various forms? Do you pay attention when others share their experience with relapse, or a near slip? Who do you count among close friends today? Do they know that?
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See the Feb 4 post for a sample of the 78-page workbook, "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" available as hard copy (mailed) or PDF (emailed - ideal for those of outside the U.S.). Portland Area Intergroup also has a supply available, 825 NE 20th Ave. Click on the words ViewWEB VERSION at the bottom of this page, if you don't see the purchase link in the upper right corner.
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