As I prepared to re-store holiday ware I'd taken out for a small party, I contemplated donating the bulk of it, mainly the dinner-party stuff from a previous life - reminders of another time and place, though no real emotional connection. I do believe in using "real" versus paper plates when entertaining, so not a bad thing to have an extra dozen dishes, but parties these days tend to be smaller affairs, easily accommodated by our everyday stuff. I came to no firm conclusion, so put said dishes back on the storage shelf until next year, but did realize that if we were to move, these would not come with us. Part of my declutter efforts can be that simple - yes, this item has (even limited) use, but in the long run, not something I need to hang on to. Such a process...
Besides hanging on to physical items that may or may not be past their prime, an aspect of my character is that I function best when I have things to look forward to. Yes, every day is a gift and I like making plans. As a friend says, we got sober to do stuff, not just sit in meetings or in front of the TV (though there is a time and place for that!). A contributor to my hitting bottom, my realizing that my life was at a dead end, was a blank calendar. Blank, empty spaces, week after week, month after month. No plans, no dates, nothing. It was those seemingly insignificant moments, and those with more weight - looking at the blank calendar, advising my physician I might need more sedative for a procedure due to my methamphetamine use, finding a pistol on top of my toaster - that led to my internal "enough!" No one huge event, merely a series of crummy indignities; pitiful, incomprehensible demoralization on a drip.
I went to an in-person meeting over the weekend. Running an errand beforehand, I checked in with Google-maps for the quickest route, which took me by JDH - the Juvenile Detention Hall. Good to remember that the second time I drank, and the first time I got drunk, I ended up there, having been picked up by the police. An inauspicious beginning to my drinking career, though grateful it was my only official brush with the law.
We recently watched the movie, "Everything, Everywhere, All at Once." If I'm correct, it had to do with all the life choices we could've made,but didn't - and that there are multiple universes operating from those coulda/woulda/shoulda decisions. The main character's parallel universes included ones where she was a martial arts expert, a singer, an actress, and various "regular" jobs. The premise has me thinking about all the choices I didn't make, and how life might've been very different. As a child, like many girls, I wanted to grow up to be a horse (a stallion, no less). At various points I wanted to be a teacher, a secretary, a travel agent, a pioneer on the Oregon Trail (100+ years too late for that one), and Margaret Mead (again, too late, and already taken). I wanted to be Pippi Longstocking and had recurring dreams about sailing the seas. How might life have turned out if I hadn't gotten married at 19, or if I had, and gave birth to two children, just like Mom? What if I'd sent my cousin and the good-looking meth cook away on that fateful October morning in 1983? Well into my alcoholism by then, but where might the road have taken me sans IV drug use? What if I'd stayed in the insurance industry instead of going to school to be a counselor? What if I hadn't gone to that potluck at Gryphon Group in 2009, and sat by the guy who'd recently moved up from California? As in the rapid-fire sequences in the movie, the possibilities are endless, with both small and big choices leading to completely different outcomes.
According to the internet, the meaning of the film is "that what makes life meaningful is the recognition that because there is no inherent meaning, all things and moments are equally meaningful." That's some heavy-duty philosophy there - do I believe that taking a nap on a winter's day is as meaningful as giving a few dollars to a street person? As I get older, in recovery and actual years, I do find myself thinking about the MEANING of LIFE, as in, "What's it all about anyway?" We're born, we live lives of trauma, drama or balanced stability; people we care for live and die; maybe we reproduce, maybe we don't, and then eventually, our physical selves cease to exist. Some would say that the meaning lies in our connections - the people we love and who love us back. Some would say that the meaning is in our actions, those places we've been takers or givers. And some might say that none of it means anything, outside our very small circles.
A lot to be thinking about on this first day of winter (or summer, depending on where you are), though it seems fitting for these cold and dark days to be contemplating my purpose(s). On my dawn walk this Solstice morning, I passed a home where a program acquaintance lives and saw him sitting in a chair, lamp on, book in hand, and imagined him doing his morning meditation. It made me think of all the people at that moment who were looking at their daily readers, or writing in journals, going into a meeting or just wrapping up. I appreciate being part of this worldwide fellowship, part of the solution instead of the problem. Solstice greetings to you, with wishes for peace and serenity.
When you contemplate the various paths you might've taken, are there those that still beckon? As the calendar year draws to a close, are there places to declutter, either internal or external? What can you release and what might you invite into your life or your program? What is your personal philosophy about the meaning of life? Are you living in accordance with your values?
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This could be time to think about a year end/new year inventory. See the Feb 4 entry for a sample of the "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" workbook with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. Available in PDF format for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th
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