Posting early as I'm leaving on a jet plane (though I do know when I'll be back again... ) for a much needed respite between cancer radiation treatment and "real life." Grateful for this vacation that was planned six months ago, and for the timing allowing it to happen.
One of my excitements about this trip is the daily outdoor 7am AA meeting a friend told me about. I love going to meetings in other places and part of travel prep for me is looking up meeting locations (thankful for the internet which makes it easier than the old days of going to Intergroup to look at the international directory!). Years ago, in an English-speaking meeting in Florence, Italy, the chair read a statement that essentially said, "We're glad you're on vacation, but we really hope to hear experience, strength and hope about recovery," in other words, not just "I'm so happy that sobriety brought me to this beautiful place." I get it. Once, in a very small meeting in Prague, Czech Republic, my friend and I were greeted with "Please! One of you tell your story! We're very tired of listening to each other!"
I've been to some stellar meetings in other places - the English-speaking meeting in Istanbul, Turkey that ended in dinner with an American and an Irish woman, leading to a music store, which ended up with my friend and I in a Kurdish bar with a group of young men, one of whom was leaving for mandatory military service the next day. What an experience! In Bejing, years later, the meeting-after-the-meeting was in a restaurant we'd never have entered on our own, seeing how non-tourists ate (and were charged far less than in places near our hotel).
On that same trip, I chaired an evening meeting in Shanghai. Years earlier, in Paris, we sat near a well-known musician, who referenced my share in his. Another time, in Scotland, I felt like I needed subtitles - are you sure we're speaking the same language??
In lockdown, I attended the online meeting out of Budapest, Hungary that I'd been to in person when my friends and I traveled there for a run (10k for me). That was my last overseas adventure, in 2019, the "before-times," and as I write, I feel the familiar itch to cross the pond (as we say in the U.S)
It's funny - when I first got sober, I feared that my traveling days were over, since my boyfriend and world traveler catalyst had left. But lo and behold, airlines will take my credit cards as easily as they took his, and I learned to budget so that I could follow my dreams. A past boyfriend didn't get it - his preference was to have something material, something concrete to show for the money I'd spent on a trip, while I much prefer the experience and memories. That was always one of my questions - "Self, in twenty years will you be glad you have an extra $1,000 in the bank, or that you have the memory of a trip to _______." The trip nearly always won.
And memorable meeting experiences aren't necessarily in far-away places. I think of when the key person didn't show up, and five of us held a meeting on the back steps of the church, or when four of us literally had a meeting on the road as we drove to our friend's family home in Montana. Meetings on the beach, or during a hike, around a bonfire - the intention and act of a meeting moves the ordinary into the realm of the spirit. We speak differently in meetings than in everyday life (though sometimes our coffee shop conversations can go deep). It must be the one-at-a-time aspect of meeting shares that sets them apart from daily talks. That, and the opportunity for emotional honesty that can be missing in the "How are you? I'm fine," of everyday interactions. I feel so very fortunate to be a part of our fellowship.
What I've learned over the years in recovery is that dreams do come true. My dreams are likely different than yours (which is why I am so very grateful for a small handful of compatible travel companions), but/and sobriety has allowed the chaff of my true desires to separate from the wheat of the should's. OK, not always - there are bills to pay after all - but generally speaking, I know what makes my heart flutter, what excites me.
Which brings me to now - post (??) pandemic (lockdown phase at least), post-cancer treatment (this is the first week in months I haven't had a medical appointment), settled in to retirement, ready for the next adventure, whether that is getting on an airplane or train, or diving into the garage de-clutter project that my husband and I are committed to. One day at a time, doesn't necessarily mean BIG things ahead, which is OK today. The garden beckons.
I will say that I had to ride the emotional rollercoaster last week, hearing the oncologist describe all the possible side-effects of the medication I'm recommended to take for the next 5-7 years (!?). And... I am grateful for science and data that indicates a big reduction in chances of recurrence with this particular medicine, so I will follow doctor's orders. The good thing about long term recovery is that the journey from self-pity to acceptance is much shorter these days. While one of my first thoughts was "F-it! I may as well eat a pizza!" my second and third were more along the lines of "Bring it! I can handle whatever lies ahead," following one of my favorite meetings where I was reminded of the absolute gift of this recovery life, the gift of walking through all of the ups and downs together.
I will note a passing of a long-time member here in Portland - Kelly L. Kelly came in about 6 months before me, and when I met him, had a broken leg so needed rides to the daily nooner. He sure needed meetings, so I assigned myself to pick him up from his dad's. At the time, I was still kinda-sorta hanging out with my meth dealer boyfriend (and I use that term loosely). I'd had enough, apparently, so on the way to the meeting one day, asked Kelly if he'd be ok that we stopped by where the guy was living to drop off a box of his stuff. I can't remember what was said, but the guy was giving me crap on the front porch, when all 6 foot 4 inches of Kelly stepped out of my car, asking, "Is everything alright?" That was the end of my guy's BS, for that day anyway. Kelly was a big man, a gentle giant, and from the stories I hear, was that helpful person to a lot of us young women new to recovery - helping us move out, stay out, stop putting up with snarky comments from those still using. Kelly, may you rest in peace, and find that biker AA meeting in the sky.
What have been some of your memorable meeting experiences? How has sobriety allowed you to discover/uncover your true heart's desires? How do you balance the should's and the want-to's? Who were the beacons in your early days? Are they still around? Today, are there those who see you as an elder in sobriety? How do you carry that honor and responsibility?
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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 ($12.95) for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy ($19.95 mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. You can order from the WEB VERSION of this page, payment link on top right. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th
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