Respond vs React

Last week I had a routine health check. At the time, it felt like the tech was distracted, so I half expected to get a call to come back for a re-scan, which came this week - a stellar opportunity to practice the principles in all my affairs.

Even semi-expecting the call, my brain hit over-drive with the "what if's," pinging from total trust to thinking about where I'd want to travel before I die. Grateful for good insurance and an anticipated positive outcome jumping to thoughts of surgery and my elaborate, heartfelt funeral. Sigh. Normal, I was reminded by close friends, and... I am a believer in positive thinking, so have been doing my reasonable best to rein in the catastrophic obsessions. Feel the feelings while remembering that feelings aren't facts (being mindful of my tendency to move directly into competent mode). Stay in TODAY, since the re-scan appointment isn't for another week. And, I'm guessing that my provider gets lots of worried phone calls as the notice about results was quickly followed by a letter telling me that this doesn't mean I have the dreaded "C" word (cancer). 

I'm reminded, again and again, that the tools of the program aren't just for dealing with sobriety itself. First Things First, One Day at a Time, Easy Does It, to name just a few bumper sticker bromides, have been useful when I've dealt with work stress, grief (pending and actual), friends and relationships. Truths are truths, and a benefit of long-term recovery is that I've had a lot of practice in reaching for the phone instead of a drink. That reaching before thinking myself into a corner isn't always automatic, but the time and distance between react and respond is shorter these days.

I will say that thinking about death, as in mine (which Buddhists say we should do regularly), does prompt a list of all the things undone. So what, if I'm not here? Well, many years ago I was told to leave my desk as if I'd be hit by a truck on the way home - morbid, but a good reminder that someone else may need to finish something I started, whether a discharge summary at work, or paying the yearly homeowner's insurance. I'm the bills person in our arrangement, and I like to think I'm organized, but sometimes even I can't find what I'm looking for. I'm reminded of an ex's dad who was at a total loss when his wife had a stroke. My ex had to teach his dad how to run the washing machine and make iced tea. That is certainly not the case for me and the hubs, but like in the workplace, it's never a good idea when only one person knows how to do something.

Pre-recovery, I remember the sense of impending doom (probably because doom was pending), that sense of fear that I'd die before I'd ever really lived. In the exaltation of pink cloud sobriety, I thought, "OK, you can take me now - life is good," finally feeling like I was growing in to myself, though I will say, thoughts of mortality carry a different weight at 68 than they did at 38 or even 58. Life is short, seeming shorter and shorter as the years go by.

As I've sat with my fears, that tug of war between trusting and scared, I'm realizing the part of me that feels small can think, "Ah, see - the other shoe has dropped" or that there is some sort of higher power keeping score and I've had too much good stuff so it's time to even it all out. I know that isn't true, and, part of me believes that if I simply live a good life or pray the right way or go to a lot of meetings that life on life's terms won't happen to me - that I'll sail along unscathed until I die in my sleep after turning 100. Nothing like a slight tug on the rug beneath my feet to expose magical thinking. What does it say in the Big Book? That it's ok to keep our head in the clouds as long as our feet are firmly planted in reality? 

We had a counselor in treatment who often said, "Oh well!" to our complaints or whining. Bad news? Bad luck? Bad decision? Oh well. Oh well, as in "You'd best accept reality and move on." Oh well, as in "What made you think you could bypass life's ups and downs?" Oh well, indeed.

If everything that happens is a learning opportunity, I'm there. One of my daily readers tells me that "Waiting is an action." My usual M.O. is to keep moving, but in this case, there is nowhere to go. Nowhere but the rooms, my journal and my friends, one day at a time. And I'm a firm believer in the "Name it, claim it, tame it" club. After sharing in a couple of meetings, talking to trusted others, and writing this post, as well as having a good cry, my fears have essentially lifted. Today is today. I'll deal with the rest of it when it does or doesn't show up.

Where do you turn when life on life's terms deals a wild card? Do you allow yourself all your feelings, without using the "self-pity" warning as a weapon? If you were abducted by aliens, would anyone else know where you keep your passwords or your bank records? How do you bring yourself back to today when your brain races ahead?

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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