I recently read an article describing "ambient demand," all those tiny and annoying tasks, often related to computers and technology that are supposed to be helpful, for example, calling a company with a problem, navigating to a chat-bot, jumping through hoops to get to an actual person, hearing "wait times are longer than usual," and maybe, maybe eventually getting to someone who can help. None of these steps are overtly difficult, but there goes 30 minutes, if you're lucky. Seems to be the way of the world these days, but that doesn't mean I like it.
What it does mean is that I can intentionally create, or allow, quiet space, doing my best to balance busy with not, keeping my phone in my pocket when standing in line, staring out the window at the stars or the rain. That can be a challenge for this alcoholic - I like a full calendar, though more and more am appreciating afternoons of open time. And while not a luddite, I can do my best to get/be reasonably tech aware while staying true to my old-fashioned paper and pencil roots.
A slight adjustment to the route I take to walk to my gym has me passing the apartment where I moved after leaving my first husband, a little shotgun affair in the corner of a small complex. That was a strange and murky time, filled with too much drinking, hangover mornings downing a piece of toast and a glass instant breakfast after hitting the "snooze" button one too many times, then walking to work at the insurance company a mile or two away (I didn't learn to drive until the marriage ended). Drunk dialing old friends at night, bringing a couple of strangers home from the dance clubs, trying to discern if I my soon to be long-term boyfriend was coming back to Portland or staying oversees with his clan and obligations. I was definitely in an in-between state. and at 23-24, barely scratching the surface of emotional maturity. How could it have been any other way, having started drinking alcoholically at 13, moving from my parents' home to the attempt at being grown-ups with my husband, and very soon, staying with the new boyfriend, leaving the little apartment as no more than a closet until I officially moved in with him.
Sometimes I wonder what I might've done differently, especially on these cold, dark and wet days when memories of hitting bottom seep from every song I listen to, the holiday decorations I've had for decades, walking with women I've known forever. Of course, all that transpired in the past brought me to today - every hangover, every argument, every bit of my cheating heart, every ounce of laughter along the way, and yes, each and every bottle of cheap wine or vodka-7, every gram of cocaine, every syringe full of meth.
What is it that keeps us alive, oh we who coulda/shoulda/woulda died behind the wheel or with the wrong stranger? Luck? An innate sense of self care that said turn right instead of left? That seems to be the unanswered question of nearly every alcoholic - why me? Why did I get it and not that person over there who I know hurt just as bad as I did? A sponsor once shared her philosophy that, often, those of us who make it have a functional work ethic that keeps us coming back. What I might add to that, from my years working in treatment as well as listening in meetings, is that many of us simply cannot accept the idea of personal powerlessness - the old "I've got this" syndrome. Who knows? What I do know is that I've been walking this spiritual path for a lot of years now. It is my way of life, not something I have to think about each day like in the beginning.
I love December - the quiet, the dark, the reminder that in essence, I'm a mammal that benefits from slowing down. Not hibernating exactly, but December feels like a time of hearth and home (here in the Northern Hemisphere anyway - happy summer to those in another place). I love holiday lights and burning a candle as I sit with my daily readers and journal in the morning. Each season has its gifts.
I've read several articles about keeping our joy alive in this time that can feel uncertain. What do I have power over? My attitude, which means choosing to focus on the positive rather than all that could or might be "wrong." I have power over how much news I ingest (just enough to stay informed), and the kinds of conversations I participate in. Not in a Pollyanna kind of way, but I know from experience that grousing over the state of the world, or my age (which I see as a gift), or so much else in the world that feels big and sad, does no one any good. Do I have time or money to donate? Can I brighten someone's day? Can I cultivate the "attitude of gratitude?" one day at a time? Just for today, which is all I really have, I'll remember what it was like and celebrate what it is like now.
How do you allow space in your days for quiet contemplation? What are ways you can keep, or stoke the fires of joy, for yourself and those you come in contact with? How can you contribute to making the world, or your little corner of it, a better place today?
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Is it time for a year-end inventory or planning for the new year?
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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