This week I am heartbroken over the drunk driving accident in New Jersey that took the lives of two men, on the eve of their sister's wedding. The driver, in custody, is reportedly a drug and alcohol counselor. How could this happen, you may wonder. It happens because the disease is cunning, baffling and powerful. It happens because too often, those who work in treatment confuse their job with their recovery program. As a supervisor, I can't tell you how many times I had that conversation - your job will not keep you sober. I do not know the story of the drunk driver, but I do know that two men are dead - one a father and professional hockey player, the other a coach, expecting his first child in December. Tragic, frustrating, confusing. And a reminder of the daily reprieve and the awful nature of random events.
The Daily Stoic reader, on September 1st, speaks to the importance of "learning indifference" to the ups and downs of life, those events that seem to come out of nowhere. The Grace in Aging describes much the same concept - that most of what occurs in one's life is neutral and impersonal, whether a traffic tie-up or an unexpected diagnosis, someone's curt statement or the weather, or a tragic accident. Most of what I encounter in a day is not directed "at" me, though I can react as if to a personal affront if I'm not utilizing the pause. This awareness would be, I assume, no solace to those who grieve this week, whether in Jersey or the battlefield or the hospital room. My ability to accept that "sh** happens" is definitely impacted by my distance from the event, though empathy increases my compassion and sorrow for those I do not know, along with the knowledge that it could've been me behind the wheel.
I am continually grateful that I got it, that once I fully conceded alcoholism to my innermost self, I haven't had to test the waters. I suppose that is a benefit of long-term sobriety - I haven't known anyone who returned to drinking or drugging "successfully," with a cocktail every now and then. And at this point, I have no interest. Heck, I feel crappy if I don't get enough sleep. I don't even want to imagine a hangover. One day at a time, I'll do what is needed to stay on this side of the great divide.
I was in a good meeting this week on the topic of the fellowship, which definitely helped me in the "keep coming back" department. While most of those sharing were younger (though several have 30+ year sobriety), I could very much relate to the importance of the "sufficient substitute" for alcohol that the Big Book describes. I couldn't tell the difference between a Step and hole in the wall when I first came in, but I could relate to members laughing and having fun, and gravitated to my "litter mates" who were going to dances and driving to conferences, long dinners or coffee dates after meetings, hiking, movies - all the stuff that didn't exist in my life when the longest journey was from the fridge (booze) to the bathroom (drugs) and back.
I think of those early days as kind of like high school might've been - traveling in a pack, a posse of people doing our best to grow up. Getting a job, getting a date, getting on a plane sober, having the tough conversation - you all helped me mature, and were there right along with me on your own journey, while my actual high school days were spent getting stoned at lunch, and getting drunk and making out in the backseat of my boyfriend's Mustang on weekends. I'm grateful that so many of us came into program in the 80's, having survived the 1970's - a ready-made peer group who understood the insanity of drinking beer for breakfast and chasing down the dealer in the wee, small hours of the night.
Over time that camaraderie shifted, as I imagine it is supposed to, as people paired off, got full-time jobs, moved away. My social network has definitely changed over time, with some drifting away from our common bond of meetings, some changing interests, some moving (though several of my closest friends live elsewhere - I guess that's the difference between situation-dependent acquaintances and true friends). I'm grateful for the whole of it.
My ongoing quest is still and always, "relieve me of the bondage of self." The illusion of control, and of being right, dies hard. Singh (Grace in Aging) describes a sitting meditation practice as a way to let go of the attachments to me, me, me, that process of getting still and observing my thoughts. I've never been great at the sitting still part. I used a meditation app for a while, then realized I was mainly in it for the daily chit marks, whether I was actually in meditation mode or not. Might I try again? Sure, but not this week, with a full schedule. Of course, I do understand that it's always something, especially when the task is a thing I'm not good at, or not really interested in. Meditation? Maybe next week. Yoga? Hmmm, maybe after the upcoming trip. Writing? Perhaps when the weather changes. I think I'll go for a long walk instead.
And so, this week, I relax into gratitude and compassion, and a healthy respect for the disease of alcoholism. One day at a time, I can do my best to be part of the solution, however that may look on any given day.
In thinking about what may have upset or annoyed you this week, how can you detach from taking events personally? How do you call on compassion for the injured and the injure-er when the disease strikes a friend or stranger?
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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.
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