The 4th of July used to be my favorite holiday - it was my and my boyfriend's anniversary and we'd throw a big party to celebrate, drink, and watch fireworks from the deck of our riverside home. Later, after we split, it was my least favorite holiday, memories and grief hitting me with each "bomb bursting in air." For many years, I've been neutral - enjoying our local Blues Festival, the 5k and 10k my husband and I participate in - but I've turned into a cranky old lady who doesn't like neighborhood fireworks going off until the wee hours. I don't get the attraction, especially since our city has made them illegal, due to fire danger. On my walk this morning, several people I passed remarked on how lovely it was to be quiet. And, it's a new day.
Last Friday, as I pressed out crust for pizza that I don't make very often anymore, I was transported back to the mid-1970's, when my younger brother would come to our apartment with the green shag carpet and avocado countertops, to keep me company while my new husband was off on his weekend marathon card game. Little bro and I were on the quest for the perfect pizza crust (before you could buy them ready made), trying bisquick, pop 'n fresh dough, even won ton wrappers. We'd grate mounds of cheese, several varieties, and cook up onions and garlic, and usually ground beef, greasing up our hands to press out the dough. We'd then smoke a joint, or two, eat pizza, drink soda-pop wine, and sarcastically laugh our way through the Donnie & Marie Show on TV. I was 19 or 20, while he would've been 17 or 18. It was fun.
Sometimes the card game would be at our place, and my brother and a cousin or two might show up, along with the other guy's wives. We'd drink like lunatics, one time building a human pyramid in the living room (I have the photo to prove it), often heading off for Chinese food in the wee hours after dancing to disco in the living room, just like I'd watched my parents do when they'd roll up the rug and jitterbug to the Big Bands.
Looking back, I think of those times as playing at being a grown up. Though a couple of our friends started having babies, I didn't. I didn't even know how to cook when I got married. But I went to work each morning at the insurance company, moving up the ranks, and cleaned house Saturday mornings, often taking a nap before the evening festivities commenced, feeling very adult in my independence after high school. My husband and I bought a house a few years later, which meant more responsibilities than we were emotionally and temperamentally equipped to handle at the time, and we split up soon after. Our parents were right - we'd been too young to get married.
So when did I actually start feeling like an adult? I "acted as if" through my 20's after the divorce, traveling around the world and hosting big parties, while behaving more like a spoiled teen. I got sober at 31, but even then, for a number of years, had the imposter syndrome of expecting someone to come along and say, "Wait - what is she doing here?"
I did feel like an adult when I signed the refinance mortgage on the house I'd bottomed out in, moving the note from my now-ex boyfriend into my name - becoming financially self-supporting contributed to maturity. So did learning to show up when I'd made a commitment, as did practicing keeping my word, along with keeping your confidence, even without your having to ask.
The 1980's were big in the adult children of alcoholics movement, identifying all the ways we might have been impacted by family dysfunction, with a focus on the "inner child.". My first sponsor pointed out that sometimes, when I felt "grown up," it was really just my inner child play-acting, doing what she thought she was supposed to do. Heady times, those years - definitely on the discovery/recovery trajectory as I learned to put words to what I felt deep inside, identifying differences between what had been "normal" and what was healthy.
Over time, what has impacted my maturity, feeling comfortable in my own skin, has been the 12 Steps, both working them myself and watching how you apply the principles to real life situations - walking the talk. I will say that feeling like a bonafide adult most days doesn't mean I feel my age. As a friend, 20 years younger but starting to feel her years, recently said, "I don't feel my age, maybe because I still talk like a 17-year-old." Dude, I can relate.
What I know today is that maturity has little to do with calendar years. Alanon's Courage to Change daily reader describes maturity as "Knowing myself; asking for help when I need it and acting on my own when I don't; admitting when I'm wrong and making amends...recognizing that I always have choices and taking responsibility for the ones I make...acknowledging that my needs are my responsibility... (March 3). I'd add in the importance of Rule 62, not taking myself so seriously.
While there was a time when I might've equated maturity with boredom, today I'm grateful that I no longer (rarely anyway) need to ride the emotional rollercoaster of immature responses to life on life's terms. Somewhere along the line, I became way less interested in drama, and finally learned to following the advice, "When you know better, do better."
It is a journey, and sometimes I still feel like kicking and screaming, but overall, life is good. What I might label as "problems" are really just inconveniences. Thank you, AA and Alanon, for my recovery. Despite not liking nearby fireworks, I do take note of my freedoms on July 4th: freedom from my addictions, which has allowed the freedom to actively participate in my life, both the ups and the downs. Without sobriety, I probably wouldn't even be alive to complain about the noisy neighbors.
How does maturity show up in your life today? Does it ever feel like you're faking it 'till you make it? If so, how can you move the needle a bit closer to serenity and self acceptance?
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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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