History

 Between the weather shifting here in the Pacific Northwest to a rainy few days (yes!), my husband's quarterly work schedule change, and September looming, I'm feeling the yearly pull towards new beginnings and possibilities. Never mind that it's been decades since I was in school, this time of year I yearn to stock up on office supplies and buy notebook paper, look for my next year's desk calendar, clean out the closets. We'll have more warm days, so it's far too early to change my closet from summer to winter wear, but the urge is there.

In the new beginnings department, I picked up the Secretary position for one of my online meetings. As much as I'd rather leave that for someone newer, who "needs" a commitment (oh please), I was due. I'm there most weeks anyway, and in the spirit of rotation of leadership, it felt like my turn. 

In an article I recently read, in Voices of Long-Term Sobriety: Old-Timers Stories from AA Grapevine,  a writer says the founders didn't mean for us to be going to multiple meetings per week, and that they practice the principles without regular attendance (although I'd add, at the beginning, there weren't many meetings a person could attend). A few stories later, another author says their recovery has a 72-hour shelf life, so they are a regular attendee. We are as different as our stories - alike in many ways, but individual in our application.

I feel so fortunate that I live in a city where, when new, I could go to several meetings a day if I needed to, and at the beginning, I needed to. I wasn't working, the heroin-addicted meth cook was still in the picture, and I was at loose ends. Those early meetings helped me establish the habit of sobriety, and taught me, by your example, that drinking was not the answer to either my problems or my joys. 

These days, AA/Alanon is a place of spiritual reminders and lessons, but also a place of community. It's where I see friends, close or acquaintances, staying connected over time. As I often say, no one ever says, "Oh man - are you still going to church?" I get it - meetings aren't for everyone, but I like walking into a room (or signing on) and seeing my people, whether we've met or not.  And I'm realizing that my frequent revisiting this topic has to do with my own internal "want to" vs "should." Two of my meetings are in the very-much-want-to category, while another few aren't. That's what I need to pay attention to, whether related to meetings, volunteering or friend dates. It is my inner, still, small voice that wants attention, not whether or not you or you go to meetings or don't, or are of service in particular ways, or bake bread. What works for me, today?  (which could very well be something different tomorrow)

This past weekend, I went with friends to a backyard concert, a benefit for musician's healthcare - really good foot stomping blues and a Motown cover band, and LOTS of pot smoking (as well as growing plants). Pot would not be my first choice were I to go back to substance use. Heck, it wouldn't be my third or fourth choice either, but it was interesting to see all the old stoners toking away. Most were in my age range, though in my delusional view, I tend to see anyone from 45-60 as being in my range. I felt no pull towards the pot - it was more curiosity and gratitude that I no longer feel the need to alter my consciousness. When first sober, I really feared that I wouldn't enjoy music again, and then, a few months in, went to hear BB King. He was fantastic, as was my sober appreciation. Like so many of my old ideas about being sober, that one was dead wrong. Yes, I would enjoy music, yes, I could go on a date sober, yes, I could cook, sleep, stay awake, converse, enjoy the sunset without drugs or alcohol. Who knew? Apparently, all of you.

At that backyard concert, I sat next to a friend of a friend, a woman with a somewhat unusual last name. I've known her, and her last name, for a few years now, but it suddenly struck me to ask, "Are you related to So-and-So?" Yes, she replied, though not closely and rarely sees them. "Small world," we remarked, but I've been in and out of memory lane ever since - the haunted forest memory lane, not the tra-la-la section.

This person was my ex's banker, then friend, then came to work in the small Portland office. As time went on, and I skidded to my bottom, this guy was often the bearer of news I didn't want to hear, like when the locks had been changed on the house I'd moved out of, and no one told me until I went over to water the plants and my key didn't work. I get it, but I vividly recall the pitiful, incomprehensible demoralization of standing in the neighbor's kitchen, on their phone, being informed, without even a "Sorry, I thought you knew." 

The last year or so of my drinking and using was a time of deep grief, for my father who'd recently died, and for my boyfriend who'd gotten married and left me to hear it from someone else. It was a time of fear - that the meth cook in the basement would blow the house up, that the voices I heard were real, not toxic psychosis/paranoia, that the support checks would stop abruptly, that whatever spark it is that is "me" would disappear altogether. In theory I agree with the 9th Step promises, but there are parts of the past I do regret and wish to shut the door on. Can my experience benefit others? Maybe, which would be "Don't lie to the person you love," "Don't do things that make it necessary to lie to the person you love," and "Beware of good-looking ex-con drug dealers." One day at a time I've followed my own advice. 

It's long enough ago now that I rarely think of how dark those last months were, but I hope I never forget. It's less "morbid reflection" than it is an "Oh, wow." It really could've gone either way. And as my January sober-versary approaches, I can probably expect more flashes of memory to arise, triggered by a song, or a conversation, or the way the wind blows through autumn trees. Pay attention, breathe into the feeling, let go, appreciate the simple beauty of a sober life.

What might your still, small voice be whispering to you this week? What are some of the misconceptions you had about a sober life? What are ways you can honor your history and how it brought you to today without getting stuck in the past?

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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or hard copy mailed to you). Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. And a reminder that the workbook, is available at the Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th. for local folks.