Choices

 I'm reminded, again and again, that when I'm sober, I have choices - how to spend my time, how to spend my money, how to spend this one precious life. (I recently saw a post on social media that said, "Stop waiting for a special occasion - every day alive is a special occasion"). 

I'm also reminded, again and again, that it's one day at a time - absolutely all of it. Sobriety, healing physically or emotionally, gardening, the kittens maturing/simmering down, the seemingly endless de-clutter projects and on and on. That used to bother me. "Quit throwing around that 'odat' BS you old-timers" I'd think, as I'd drive myself crazy trying to solve the problem of the day all at once. In reality, living one day at a time is a huge spiritual discipline. Obviously, we really can only live in this one day, but man, oh man can my mind jump to the future, to no avail, whether that is the big "F" future, as in anticipation of health or illness, or the smaller "f' concerns of getting to the grocery store during a sale. One day at a time, one task at a time, one decision at a time. 

The good news is that I've gravitated to meetings, mostly online, with others who feel about program like I do - that it is a way of life, not a destination to check off. To me, recovery is like a second language - if I don't use it, I lose it. I know that people practice the principles in many different ways, especially as time goes on, but for me, "Don't drink and go to meetings" still works.  

It was literally one year ago that I received a diagnosis of breast cancer, during a snowstorm, internal knowing all would be well going to battle with a slew of fears. And here I am today, healthy and healing. I think of all the other times I thought life was over, or questioned my ability to survive - my father dying, way too young at 56, several relationship endings (always a challenge), a couple of job lay-offs or leaving a job without another in place... Life works out, and I've ALWAYS been able to walk through the fear, the sorrow, the sadness, at least partly because I now have past experience to draw from, and because I have your experience, strength and hope to guide me.

Several sponsees are going through the wringer lately. Sometimes I can share my experience, strength and hope and sometimes I can simply be a compassionate, listening heart. I remember the panic when I was first asked to sponsor someone. I called a friend, with way more experience (as in 6 months more) than me. "What do I do?!" "It's simple," she replied. "You just nod your head and say 'uh-huh, tell me more'." Ha! Obviously there's a bit more to it than that, like the Steps for one thing, but the process isn't as complicated as I can make it. Sometimes my sponsors get me and sometimes they don't. Sometimes I relate to what is shared with me, sometimes I don't. The important piece is in the listening, or when I'm the one seeking guidance, in the telling. My disease of isolation can sometimes whisper that I don't need to call or text or email because, with X number of years, I know what to do. Sure. I usually know what to do, and, it is in the reaching out that healing occurs. I don't usually get my "ah-ha" moments in a vacuum. Those moments of insight nearly always come from something I've read, or something I've heard, whether in a meeting or in a conversation with a trusted other. 

In addition to my year cancer-versary, this week marks 38 years since I went to my first Alanon meeting, desperate for some magic words that would convince my drug-dealer, heroin addicted kinda-sorta boyfriend to get clean (even though I knew that's not how it worked). The disease got him, despite my attempts at both attraction and promotion, but as I sat in meetings, I realized that I'd been impacted by the family disease, even though my dad got sober when I was 12. I've shed a lot of tears in Alanon, seeking to unravel what I learned in my family and what needed to be unlearned. After many, many inventories and some years of outside help, today I'm able to reflect on the positives I got growing up instead of focusing on what was missing. I don't have active alcoholism in my life today (thank you Universe!) but I do carry around this brain that can still believe I'm in charge, that it's up to me to fix whatever is out of whack, that if I hang on real tight, everything will be ok. Everything is ok. Always has been, even when it felt otherwise. Thank you Alanon. 

How do you remember that everything is alright, even in the midst of turmoil? Do you sponsor and/or do you have a sponsor? Knowing that relationship looks different in long-term sobriety, what works for you, and as importantly, what doesn't? 

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Ready for an inventory or small group discussion? Check out my 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