Focus

 One of my daily readers tells me "There is a spiritual reason for everything." I'm not buying the implication that the Universe is so ordered as to blast out lessons to each and every human on the planet. I do, however, believe that there are opportunities and choices inherent in what happens in my daily life. For example, I can keep my nose in the phone while the young guy replaces my windshield wiper blades, or can initiate conversation, a brief and pleasant connection. I can freak the "F" out over medical questions, or use tools of the program to calm the inner rattle.

It's funny - it used to sort of annoy me that my mother, who rarely talked about physical limitations, did so in her final few years. And now I find my long-term friends and I doing the same - Medicare and procedures, this ache or that pain. I now realize that we humans tend to talk about what we are doing, what is most present in our lives, and for many, aging brings noticeable change - humorous if we can share it with our peers. I don't especially welcome this over-focus on my blood pressure, diet, sleep or lack thereof, although in my running days, I was very aware of every slight muscle twinge, so I suppose it's merely a matter of perspective. 

So, where is my focus to be? On the narrow this-is-how-I-feel-in-my-body or the glory of sunrise? The numbers on the blood pressure cuff (important but not obsessively so) or the green shoots starting to appear in the garden? In the book, The Invitation, by Oriah, she says (and I paraphrase) that she's not interested in your GPA or income level, doesn't care about where you're spending the month of January or where you picked up that stunning little purse. She wants to know what you dream about, what wakes you in the middle of the night, what or who are you longing to become? She wants to know what scares you, and where you go when you feel frightened and alone. In essence, she asks, "Who are you?" And isn't that what recovery is all about? Who am I when the labels are dropped?  Wife, sister, former professional, friend, AA member, fill-in-the-blank... 

I used to be fearful of those moments just before sleeping, when there was no one in my mind but me and the still small voice. I was fearful, because if I really listened, I'd hear the voice whispering, "So what exactly are you doing with your life, you with that highball on the bedside table, you with the coke mirror in your underwear drawer, you with the massive hangovers?" I knew, even before I knew, that if I truly paid attention, I'd have to do something in order to make peace with myself, and at that point, I had no frame of reference for what that might be. So, I'd take another slug of whatever booze was on the table, hoping to fall asleep/pass out to Johnny Carson on the TV. In the cold light of day, I could distract myself with the hangover, with breakfast, with the ever-shrinking to-do list, but at night, it was just me and my thoughts.

I don't fight those nighttime demons today. Long term sobriety has given me the gift of myself, pretty much the same no matter who I'm interacting with (though I must admit I cuss more with my friends than in other public places). As time goes on, I do sometimes wonder what kind of old lady I'll be - funny, cranky, daft? Ha ha - maybe I'm already there, and a little of each! I do know I'm not great with small talk, never have been. Every conversation doesn't need to be about our innermost thoughts, but at least some of them do. Maybe that's part of why I appreciate meetings so much - it's where I'm privileged to hear your hopes and dreams, fears and joys. 

I had the opportunity to spend time with good friends this past weekend, with a couple of exceptions, friends I haven't seen in person for three years. I'd forgotten just how sweet it is to sit around a table with people who know me, people I've shared meetings with for decades. We are definitely not a glum lot, though can seriously and sincerely walk each other through hard times when needed. I have a few such groups, from school confidants, to the interstate fellowships I participate in via zoom. Long term recovery and long(ish) term life bring gifts I hadn't known I'd wanted. And I hope I always remember that, especially on days that might veer towards the negative. I don't need to live in Pollyanna Land, but as was pointed out in my monthly Step Group when we started to moan a bit about aging, this life is a gift. I could've died at the end of a syringe, or behind the wheel or any number of other alcoholic ends. This aging journey is unexpected and untraveled (by me, anyway), either an adventure or a trial. Again, perspective, which can shift on any given day. Would I rather be running 10-minute miles on steady knees, with blood pressure below 120? Sure. And, how will I make friends with this process, this unmapped terrain? I can listen and read about others' experience, but like with recovery, the journey is mine to make, one day at a time.

Where is your focus today? Work/finances, romance or relationships? Physical concerns or maybe other people? Is that where you want to spend your emotional energy? With the noticing, can you shift your focus just a bit? When someone asks, "How are you?" how would you answer today?

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See the Jan 13, 2023 post 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