On my way to the bank this week, I took a short cut past the house I lived in when I hit bottom and saw that it is for sale. I pulled over and took a picture of the placard, and have spent time on the realtor site, going room-to-room. There have been several updates, and a lot of paint, but as I go through the photos, I think, "That's where Richard overdosed and I revived him," or "Ah, at the kitchen sink is where my ex told me I'd probably like his new wife" and where I said, "I can't even have that conversation right now." I see the fireplace where I sat on that last New Year's Eve, not really loaded, but far from sober. I also see where we held AA meetings, potlucks in the backyard and impromptu morning check-ins at the kitchen table with sober roommates.
I'm not sure why this has hit me - it's been 38 years now that I hit bottom, and at least 34 since I lived there. I think I had an image in my mind of the rooms being as I left them, seeped in memories, frozen in time. But time doesn't stop. The lilac bush and daphne, smelling so sweetly in the spring, are gone from that backyard. I assume all traces of the basement drug trade are long gone, as are echos of tears shed.
And, interesting that this foray into times past came during the week preceding my drive to treatment. I don't engage in too much morbid reflection these days, but maybe sometimes a visceral reminder of the absolute insanity of my addiction isn't such a bad thing. I must admit that over time, the "I'm Jeanine and I'm an alcoholic" has lost much of its punch, its connection to the pitiful and incomprehensible, almost like saying, "I'm right-handed" or have brown eyes. Really remembering, and sometimes actually feeling what it was like keeps me tethered to the principles of the program, the daily reprieve.
And it was insane. An example - the meth cook ran his operation out of my basement, which meant there were often nice, but shady characters coming and going at all hours. At one point, I put a sign up in the bathroom: If you are here at 2am, you need to stay until 6am, in an effort to lessen in-and-out traffic in the middle of the night. Funny how I was later worried what the neighbors might think when a group of us held hands in a circle in the backyard and recited the Serenity Prayer.
I've been thinking about the meth-cook lover, who despite his own addictions, suggested that, yes, going into treatment might be a good idea, who drove me there and took my car home (I knew my vehicle in the parking lot would make it too easy to leave), and who told me, "No one in this town will sell you dope," when I got out. I sometimes vilify particular characters in my story, but even the so-called bad guys sometimes made good decisions.
We attended the Year-End Roundup this past weekend - always good to hear speakers and see people we only see at conferences. I was able to chair at the Little Yellow House meeting, which seemed fitting just days before my anniversary since Seaside is where I went to treatment (and the Yellow House was my first "real" meeting). On New Year's Day, we listened in on a zoom speaker meeting with Lila R, of Santa Monica and Ireland, with 54 years sober. I always appreciate her views as she talks to the long-timer, which reminds me that "the alcoholic who still suffers" might be the person in the room with the most time.
And so here we are, in 2024. Having overdone sugar over the holidays (one is too many and a thousand isn't enough) I do plan to focus on healthier eating, but otherwise, don't have a big list of resolutions. My spouse and I did talk about our intentions, as related to health, finances, relationship, program and a broad "other" category - not as a ball and chain, but to put words to ideas and to help frame our direction going forward, knowing that we'll blink a few times and this year will be over! That's a goal - to increase my attention to what I'm doing in the here and now, vs the then or later. Always and again, progress not perfection.
Today is happy sober-versary to me. We are the fortunate ones, by luck, hard work, willingness or a combination thereof, including being in the right place at the right time with the right people. Three people in my Alanon meeting today had just lost someone to fentanyl overdose. The struggle is real, and I hope never to forget that.
Have you set intentions for the new year, a fresh start? How can you make that list gentle and flexible, rather than rigid and thus easily broken? Are there any areas needing a re-set, whether in self-care, step work or in the workplace? How will you remember to keep it "one day at a time?"
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Thinking of a year-end inventory or a holiday gift for a sponsee? I've restocked my supply of the workbook "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. (See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample.) 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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