Moving along...

I recently read that a new idea held by an old mind is really just an old idea dressed in a new outfit. To me, that fits in with the AA slogan (borrowed from the Bible?) that faith without works is dead. I can entertain all sorts of "new" ideas, but if they don't lead to action or an internal shift, I'm simply spinning my wheels until the next new thing comes along. Until I had the psychic rearrangement the Big Book writes about, I was dry (in those very few times I tried to control my drinking), and dry was an uncomfortable place to be.

In a couple of meetings this week, people talked about new beginnings, starting a new chapter, with new jobs, recent loss of a loved one, the simmering of an urge that isn't quite yet named, the pending new year...  While I don't have a big change on the horizon (that I'm aware of!), I do like to take time to ponder what went well and what didn't this year, as well as any lessons learned. 

One of my biggest lessons was that I'm more competent than I sometimes give myself credit for. As I've written about, I'm directionally challenged, so had a semi-valid fear about getting lost while walking the Camino, intensified when my friend broke her ankle and couldn't continue. But there I was, trudging the road, getting to my night's lodging each day, tagging along with others or seeking help from strangers along the way. I am never alone, even when I think I am.

I got word this week that the AA group I started, maybe 15 years ago (?) held it's final meeting, having stayed online after the pandemic. I wouldn't say it was a resentment and a coffee pot that got it going - more that the nooner I'd been at for a decade got very big and very young and I sought someplace I could more comfortably relate. Funny - along that line, someone dubbed it the old-people's meeting (hmmm) and then someone else called it "the NPR of AA." In any event, it was stellar for quite awhile, and then, for me anyway, faded a bit with schedule changes, etc. I hadn't attended in probably 6-8 years. That's the beauty of AA - whoever or however a meeting begins, groups take on a life of their own, until they don't. 

Over time, there have been several meetings that I lived for, with the perfect combination of fellowship, emotional honesty and spirituality as we all did our best to practice the principles. I currently have online groups that fit that description, though did find myself feeling a bit envious recently as a few people talked about their in-person home groups with reverence. What do they say? If you don't think your home group is the best group in the world, maybe it's time to find a new meeting. To that end, I'm making an effort at fellowship with the long-ago Sunday night home group I've gone back to. It's a big group (40 people?), and, I'm starting to connect with individuals - those newer in sobriety and those who've been around awhile. And that's what it's all about, right? The fellowship, the conversations, the "I've been there too" are what kept me coming back, and allow me to see where my experience can benefit others.

I had an interesting conversation with my brother as I near my milestone. He isn't an alcoholic (he got the family depression, I got the alcoholism), and sometimes will ask me questions, like when reading a novel that has 12 Step characters, wondering if the depictions are accurate. He wondered if I've been sitting on the edge of my seat for 40 years, hanging on for dear life. Gratefully, no, though it can be hard to explain my moment of surrender that removed the compulsion.

It's funny - my brother was there for my descent, though slightly removed from the daily insanity. My first husband's brother, on the other hand, wasn't. When we reconnected a few years ago and I told him the abridged version of my story, he was incredulous, saying he would've punched anyone who'd tried to tell him I was a drug addict. Yeah, I clean up pretty well, and the madness of the disease makes even us nice girls go places we'd never imagined (as I've said, I wasn't a good girl, but I was a nice girl ha ha).

As I write, a crew is banging around on ladders, tearing off old siding in order to repair any water damage and slap up the new stuff. Kind of fitting that it's happening as the calendar turns - discarding what no longer serves. Later today I'll take a walk with women I've known since I was 9, and from there, see my friend, the Tarot Card Lady for a reading in honor of my sober-versary. I fully anticipate being asleep before the ball drops in New York. Midnight is no longer my friend (if it ever was). 

And tomorrow will be 2026. Remember when so many were worried that planes would fall out of the sky when computers turned over to the year 2000? One more piece of evidence that I don't have a crystal ball. I can do my best, one day at a time, to suit up and show up and practice the principles - not perfectly, but humanly, and with gratitude for this sober life. 

 Are there any lessons from 2025 you'll carry forward? What old ideas might you discard?  What went well this year? How will you celebrate your successes while being gentle with yourself?    Wishing you the very best for the new year. 

   * * * * * *

Time for a year end inventory?   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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth

                  

Riding the wave

 In Speaking of Faith, by Krista Tippett, a book I picked up at a neighborhood kiosk, she mentions Einstein pointing to the theory, or fact, that "time and the experiences it holds and the wisdom it imparts work more like circles than lines" (p.12). Exactly. I've long realized that life's lessons come as a spiral. I may think I've dealt with a certain memory or characteristic, only to have it circle back around - sometimes with more strength, but usually the intensity is lessened because, ah yes, I've been here before. That certainly is true this time of year, with memories of that final (I hope) skid to the bottom.

We attended the End of Year Round-up at the Oregon coast this weekend - very light attendance, likely due to the date change (earlier in the month than usual) and weather, with a lot of flooding here in the northwest. In  addition to hearing inspiring speakers, I got to chair the 8am meeting at the Little Yellow House, a few blocks from the conference - the first place I attended a "real" AA meeting as my treatment stay wound down (staff let a couple of us near-grads go). My uncle was a long-time member there. When I first saw him in a meeting, I said, "You never saw me drunk, but I sure saw you - and you're in the right place!" Both he and his mother had decades of sobriety before they died (I was given her 2nd edition Big Book - I didn't know her well, but it's fun to see her margin notes). 

All weekend, I found myself breathing in waves of emotion, starting with passing the pull-out along the highway where I stopped on my way to treatment to shoot up for the last time. Did I know it would be the last time? Part of me figured I was getting the heat off by going in to treatment, a time out, but there must've been a tiny nugget in my soul that whispered, "You're done." Forever grateful that was the voice I heeded, once I saw what not-drinking could mean (not stupid, boring and glum by any means).

And, 'tis the season for memories galore. My former sister-in-law in the UK, who I've stayed in touch with over the decades, just sent me contact information for someone we've wondered about over the years - an Iranian man who was a friend and business associate of my ex and his brother. This guy was a lot of fun in what was a crazy and frenetic time. Whenever I hear Van Morrison's song, Wavelength, I picture him, my boyfriend and me driving around Beverly Hills smoking a joint, singing along at the top of our lungs. For these Middle Easterners, the Voice of America that Van sings about, was real, a link to a more open world they longed for as teenagers. It's been fun to exchange emails, with a vow to talk after the holidays. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and everything in between. So good to connect with someone who was there.

This guy was also the first person to suggest I carry a bag of nuts or other small snack for those times my blood sugar tanked, noticing I got a bit cranky when hungry - which happened a fair amount when traveling with my ex's family and large entourage. Who knew? In those days, I seemed to know drunk and not drunk, barely in tune with my heart or my body. Interesting that others seemed to know me better than I knew myself. Again, grateful to have developed an understanding of what makes me tick, physically as well as emotionally, and how I best operate in the world (as in HALTS).  

The Alanon speaker at the conference shared what her sponsor said: "If a sentence doesn't have your name in it, it's none of your business." Brilliant. When I say, or think, "He should _____" or "Why doesn't she ______" and the like, I'm in None of My Business Land. Quitting drinking is one thing, but man oh man, quitting efforts to control and influence people and outcomes is quite another thing altogether. which is why I'll keep coming back to both programs.

And today is Christmas Eve. I can almost touch the sense of wonder and excitement I felt as a kid, the anticipation of Santa's visit. For all that may have been lacking (my perception), there wasn't any drama at our family holidays. Dad may have been hungover, and maybe there was a nip of something or other in his coffee cup, but Christmas morning was a sweet time of parents on the couch, and my brother and I tearing into our meager gifts. I remember when they gave me a typewriter (7th or 8th grade?). Reading was such a pleasure that I wanted to tell a story that took people to another world, never guessing I'd have to nearly die in order to gather material for my novel, Shadows and Veins. A good reminder that I rarely know how today's events and experiences will inform what's ahead.

Happy Solstice, Happy Hannukah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanza, or as Seinfeld said, "Happy Festivus for the rest of us." I celebrate love and recovery, family and friends, and the incremental return of the light, one day at a time.

How has your self-care been this month? Any areas that would benefit from extra attention? Whether from childhood or perhaps your recovery years, what is a warm memory you can call on if the sad times are talking to you? And a gratitude list is always a good idea. I am grateful to you, dear reader, and for this now nearly archaic form of sharing the joys and challenges of long term sobriety.

* * * * * *

Time for a year end inventory?   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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth

Traditions

 After an emotional few weeks, I'm feeling re-centered and at peace. Amazing, the healing power of actually feeling the feelings rather than ignoring them (which never really works). I now feel prepared and open to experiencing the positives of the holiday season - time with friends and family, enjoying neighborhood lights and our own modified decorations (our 2 cats, while technically not kittens, are still very energetic and curious). I'll also spend extra time with my journal, reflecting on this year just passed and the one ahead. I don't do resolutions, per se, but I do generally have ideas and urges towards what I'd like to do and how I'd like to be in the coming calendar year, which coincides with my sober date. 

I am an elder, in both human years and recovery. What does that mean? A few years ago now I was in a meeting sitting next to a newer woman I knew. As a long-timer shared on and on, she leaned over and whispered, "Do all old timers talk a lot?" Dear HP, I hope not - at least I hope I'm not one who does. "Relieve me of the bondage of self," or "Let me be aware if I drift into Bleeding Deacon land." Yes, I've been sober a long time - I know how to keep the plug in the jug, for today - and I don't know what is best for you. I can share my experience, which is all I really have. Let me remember that I don't need to try to impart the sum total of my sober wisdom to the newcomer in one sitting. Chances are, they'll only hear part of it anyway, the part about "keep coming back."

"Remember when you wanted what you now have?" I ran across that quote in one of my notebooks, and yes, I do remember wishing for a relatively simple life that looked remarkably like how I live today. There is something to be said for intention, spoken or otherwise, as well as the sometimes nameless longing that quietly propels me in one direction or another. 

A young cousin is being propelled halfway across the world, moving with her youngest son to an island in the Indian Ocean as a mission of some sort or another. Good for her. She wondered what her grandmother (my aunt) would think. I think she'd be pleased. Taking a leap of faith, leaving what you know to see what the Universe has in store - heck yes! It's semi-hilarious that hers was the only diaper I've ever changed, back in 1972, and here she is, in her 50's setting out for a faraway port. Rock on.

In a meeting this week, the chair spoke to long term sobriety, wondering if there is more to learn and know at this point. For me, that is related to aging, as I, and my peers, navigate getting old. A friend had to cancel a date recently, due to health issues, reminding me that as I age, so do my friends. We are fortunate, and that can mean changes in how and when we interact (like not much driving after dark). The beat goes on, until it doesn't. I've had many experiences over the years of old-timers dying, of helping someone move into assisted living, of showing up at the hospital. May we continue to do together what we cannot do alone. 

This weekend, after walking/jogging a holiday 10k, we had friends over in an incarnation of a gathering I started in about 1987, and next week will be a Solstice meeting. I am nothing if not consistent, an appreciator of tradition. Particulars may ebb and flow, but/and I like having things to look forward to, and I am my mother's daughter - part of what can make holiday time wistful is the memory of Mom's Christmas Eve party, held from 1973 until 2011, watching cousins grow up, neighbors come and go, Mom getting "gussied up" for company, favorite treats on the table... In a time in the world that can feel so haywire and hurtful, I am comforted by the ritual of my holiday traditions. 

What traditions do you follow this time of year, and/or what have you let go of as no longer nourishing? As an elder, what do you see as your role in the program? Are there any dreams or longings whispering to you as a new year approaches? How might you express gratitude for another calendar year sober?

* * * * * *

Time for a year end inventory?   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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth

Dreams and messages

 My first husband's sister was in my pre-waking dream last Friday. We chatted, and I asked if she knew her brother had died. Yes, she knew - obviously - and I remembered that she was gone too. As she started to walk away, I called her back and asked that she say "hello" to my mom and dad, and tell them I loved them. 

I got myself up and out on a rainy morning, and when I walked into my 7am Alanon group, with the church hall set up for a function, my dad's name was among the placards at various place settings. Guess where I sat? 

My "god shots" aren't always so blatant, and they don't seem to come as often as in early sobriety when even the sun coming up in the morning felt like a message from the cosmos. Maybe it's because life got more complicated the longer I was sober, with work and home and blah, blah, blah. Maybe it's because I allow my brain to stay busy, processing one emotion or another, planning this task or that. What I know today is that I've been in a place where the door to grieving has been open and these two signs are reminders that my departed loved ones really are near, as long as I pause to remember.

My brother has been calling frequently, and where before I might've let it go to voice mail if I was in a zoom meeting or otherwise engaged, I now pick up. He's usually just got a little observation or funny thing from his day to share and that's just fine. He's one of the only people I know who doesn't have a cell phone, so it's not like he can text somebody to say "hey" so I will answer my phone, and share my own little observations or funny thing from the day as he adjusts to life as a widower. The good news is that I like him and we get along well. I know that's a gift not everyone enjoys with their siblings.

That meeting on Friday was on the topic of grieving, and boy howdy, do we AA's and Alanons know a thing or two about grief. Our departed loved ones, yes, but also the loss of a dream for ourselves or others, dear pets, who are family members in their own right, losses related to health. One person shared about feeling grief as they get close to their quit date for retirement. I was able to share my process with them after the meeting, how I wrote an employment inventory of sorts, and sent thank you cards to several past supervisors. And in the woo-woo department, how I ran into the couple who gave me the first job in my field, having not seen them for 20 years. Kind of like with the amends process, people show up when it's time (in real life or in my dreams).

I'm making an effort to get re-established at my long-ago home group, attending most weeks and raising my hand to share. It's one of those meetings where they turn down the lights after the readings. It would be very easy to sit in the dark in the back row, greeting the people on either side, out of eyesight of the chair person. And, it's a process. Newcomers rightly get a fair amount of attention, and sometimes the person with time who's just moved to town (though I consistently hear those folks have to make a concerted effort to connect). But the old timer who sits quietly, who knows maybe one or two in the room? It's up to me to reach out, to "grow or go," to join the small throng shaking hands with the new person. I have signed up to chair for my anniversary... and I'll keep coming back.

How does synchronicity reach you today? How do you, or will you, make space for the still, small voice, especially in what can feel like a busy time of year? Who might benefit from your reaching out to them, just to say "hello"?

* * * * * *

Time for a year end inventory?   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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth

A season of memories

 In my regular Wednesday meeting, on Thanksgiving eve, I found myself misty as I thought about Thanksgiving, 1985 sitting across from my mother at the holiday table.  At that point, I'd recently signed myself out of a hospital treatment program, and my brother had ratted me out to Mom, i.e. the true extent of what I'd been doing to myself. With tears in her eyes, she looked at me and said, "I just don't understand." 

Forward to Thanksgiving, 1986 and I sat at the same table, this time with nearly 11 months sobriety, a new friend from treatment there, as well as "Boxcar Leonard," the old-timer who was such an inspiration with his "Will power will not keep you sober, but want power will" refrain. What an amazingly huge difference in such a short period of time. I am one of the fortunate ones who took to this thing, and connected with others who felt the same. 

I was in a good Alanon meeting this week on the topic of choices. In the moment, I don't always recognize that I have a choice to respond (or not) rather than react. I am beyond grateful that we don't have active alcoholism in our lives today, and there can be a fair amount of "ism's" floating around, especially in this busy time of year when something as simple as going to the grocery store takes on a frenzy with increased traffic on the roads and people in the aisles. Always, always my HALTs come in to play. I had a boss once who said that when someone was on her last nerve, she pretended she was watching a TV show - a bad comedy perhaps - to help her detach from her reaction. "How important is it?" is my current favorite slogan.

My sister-in-law passed this weekend, with my brother breathing a sigh of relief, aware that a new chapter begins. I'm feeling sad, and a bit weepy. We really were not close, and she was part of the family for 40-plus years, my brother's wife. I cry for his loss. I cry for the loss of another family member. I cry for all those who are no longer here, those who are my history, the seeming-stability of those around the holiday table, the laughter shared, good meals (she was an excellent cook). Each new loss tends to connect to all previous losses, even if just for a minute. And, I know what grief feels like. I know about the business end of death, with forms and phone calls to be made. And I know about that quiet place that now feels both empty and full. 

I'm sure my brother will be fine. He's a loner, though acknowledges he does need people - not too many and not too often, but social interaction is a good thing. I can be a good sister, even when, or especially when he doesn't want to talk about loss. I learned that with my mom - I'm a good 12 Step emotional processor. She was born in 1926 and kept many of her feelings to herself. 

The day after my sister-in-law passed, my dear friend's father died, again, not unexpected, while a seismic shift for the family. These recent losses, including my eldest cousin a few months ago, and a longtime AA member in recent weeks, cause me to feel the earth shift just a bit, moving me and my generation a wee bit closer to the edge where it will be our turn. Getting older is certainly not all doom and gloom, and there is a gravity to loss, a recognition of the inevitable that was below the surface even a few years ago.

And, this is the season of memories - some good, some not so good, but definitely a time of remembering. Listening to one of my playlists the other day, I found myself literally weeping to an old Glen Miller song that my mother loved. This is the time of year that my ancestors, old and newer, feel closest. I don't need to succumb to maudlin, but I can acknowledge what my heart is telling me. As we hear, "Don't bother looking for your feelings - they'll find you." It's when I try to ignore, out run, or talk myself out of it that I wind up in knots. So, I will say, "Hello Mom and Dad. I miss you, and Dad, the conversations we never got to have." I can hold my people close, never skipping an opportunity to say, "I love you," because the time will come, on their end or mine, that won't be possible - in this realm anyway.

I'm sounding more blue than I actually feel. I have noticed over the years that feelings ebb and flow, especially during holidays or the changing of seasons. Noticing, sticking close to program (never a bad idea), striving for gentleness with myself and others, as well as reminding newer folks of the Bermuda Triangle we're in the midst of, I know that this too shall pass with joy and laughter, and yes, a few tears.

How do the seasons hit you? How can you practice compassion, with yourself and others, this time of year and always? Where will you create quite moments in order to hear and honor your feelings?

* * * * * *

It's nearing the time of year you may want to undertake an inventory...  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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth

Tis the season for ups and downs

 A few months ago I wrote about Barb B, a long-term AA friend who is now in 24/7 Alzheimer's care. On my way out of Taos, I stopped to meet, in person, a woman who grew up with Barb, and who'd put me in touch with her brother. In the six-degrees of separation department, this friend is the aunt of my Taos pal's bestie, and was in town recovering from surgery. Again and always, I'm amazed at random conversations that lead to cosmic connections, and those places where a connection might've been missed had I turned right or left. My spouse and I noted the 16th anniversary of our first date this week, which might not have happened had either of us decided not to go to a home group potluck where we struck up a conversation that resulted in that first date a week or so later. One day at a time, one choice at a time.

I came home to learn that my sister-in-law was placed on hospice care, in her memory care housing. In some ways, this feels like a relief. She's been in dementia care for over two years, and in rapidly declining physical health the past few weeks. Both my brother and her daughter see this as a liberation of sorts, freeing her from the anxiety of memory loss, while acknowledging it will be a tough  transition. Dementia and Alzheimer's are called the "long goodbye." So very hard to watch the person you know slip away.

I had a jolt of another kind this week upon learning I likely need my 22 year old home re-sided. Ouch - a big expense. Should we have caught the water damage sooner? Would that have made a difference? Why don't they build things like they used to?! Fortunately, both the handyman who identified the issue(s) and the contractor he referred me to, are in program. I appreciate the common ground of the 12 Steps, the language under the usual talk of bids and schedules. As he was leaving, the contractor noted that I seemed to be handling the news calmly. What are you going to do? I've felt the fear of financial insecurity when I had both more and less money than I have now, so it's not about the cash. I trust the process that it will all work out. My past wealthy boyfriend had a good attitude that I've tried to carry with me: money is a tool, and keep it flowing rather than holding on too tightly. I know, easy for me to say with good credit and a retirement account, but/and doing my best to keep money in its true perspective is important to my peace of mind. 

And so, here is the holiday season in full swing with Thanksgiving in the U.S. tomorrow. Gone are the days when I felt obligated to go to this gathering and that, out of perceived need vs desire. It took a few years after my mother died to reshuffle holiday gatherings, but we've settled into Turkey Day and Christmas at my sister's from another mother house, with a meal or two with visiting step-daughter, the Year End Round-up at the Oregon Coast, and a quiet meal or walk with my brother. We do host a couple of parties this time of year - a good reason to clean house - but even these have taken on the sheen of tradition. A friend once noted that I'm not very spontaneous. Not at all, I'd say. I plan ahead, though usually happy if someone cancels. 

The longer I'm on the planet, the  more I enjoy quiet time at home (interspersed with visiting faraway places). I'm getting over the need to rate my retirement - am I doing "enough?" Am I spending enough time in contemplation, reading enough, spending enough time with friends? Am I sufficiently concerned with how to approach the end of life (mine or my loved ones)? 

How about simply relaxing into "enough" (and doggone it, people like me, said Stewart Smalley). How about letting myself feel sad about my sister-in-law, even if we weren't close? How about deciding what actually needs doing vs a self-imposed idea of the perfect holiday decor (ha! two kittens have adjusted that expectation!) 

And another note to self: It is not inevitable that holidays equal weight gain! Last year I completely dove into my sugar compulsion, even knowing that one is too many and a thousand not enough. Again and always, one day at a time, one decision at a time.

How do you utilize program tools when life hits? How do you remind yourself that you are enough? How will you relax into whatever holiday gatherings you partake in (or don't). 

I very much appreciate you, dear readers, in this month of gratitude and always as I putter along each week and share my musings. It's a wonderful life, this recovery, especially knowing it could've gone either way. Take care, and best wishes to you this season and always.  

listening...

 Last week I was concerned about getting out of town, while this week I'm grateful the airport mess is over for now, headed to home, sweet home.

I've spent the last week in the glorious southwestern U.S. I couldn't live there, there of weather extremes and little greenery, but what a breath of literal fresh air to visit. The wide-open spaces are not a cliche, and, I think, good for the psyche (just like returning to the mossy PNW is good for my soul).

Visiting Monument Valley,  with a day trip to the amazing Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend,  the line from the Big Book, "Who are you to say there is no God?" came to mind. Whatever one's concept of a higher power is or isn't,  Mother Nature is a power way greater than myself. I'm so very grateful to have experienced these places I hadn't even heard of, and that I have compatible travel companions (truly a gift)

Last week, while walking home after taking my car to the shop, I passed the house I lived in when hitting bottom. I don't get too squirrelly around anniversary times like I used to, but as my sober-versary nears, I do get hit with random memories, especially when walking by the scene of the crime, now an actual lifetime ago.

Whenever I have the opportunity to tell my story, I recognize that any assumption about motives or what I was thinking at the time are pure speculation. I actually did keep a journal back in the day, though for a long time, even lied to myself (lies of omission) by not telling the whole truth in my scribblings (and they were scribbles, especially at the end). What a gift it is to not make choices I need to lie about, to myself or anyone else.

And what a gift of long term recovery to have learned to pay attention to my joy-meter. Several months ago, a proposed trip next summer sounded great. This week,  reality hit, with other travel and household expenses on the docket. I sat with it a bit, and let my friend know I won't be going. There is the plane ticket cancelation to deal with, but I'm at peace with it. Sometimes I say "yes" to something because it sounds interesting,  which is fine, but the bigger YESES are where I want to direct my attention. And, to pace myself. As I've discovered,  if everything is special,  nothing is.

Always, i need to leave space for quiet in order to hear the still, small voice within - usually more a deep knowing than an actual voice. I'm not great at sitting meditation,  but I do find peace in moments of solitude, on my walks or at home. 

It wasn't a still, small voice I heard on the 4 mile event in Monument Valley- more a chant of "keep moving!" on a very challenging hilly, sandy, course. The fun news is that I received a medal for being 2nd (out of 5) in the 70+ age group. Just keep showing up!

Is getting quiet a regular practice for you? How does your still, small voice show up? How is the telling of your story different than it might've been when you were at, say, 90 days or 3 years? What are you saying YES to today?

No whining on the yacht!

 This week I've tried to stay out of obsession-mode, wondering whether or not my flight to meet friends for a vacation (and a run in Monument Valley AZ) would be cancelled. In the grand scheme of things, it's a luxury problem. As with most things, it's been the waiting, the not knowing that's tough.

I'm reminded of a treatment counselor who, when we'd go on about one "what if?" or another would say, "Have you had enough to eat today? Do you know where you're going to sleep tonight?" Well, then, all is well. I loved hearing what a friend said in a meeting this week, that she'd heard in earlier sobriety: No whining on the yacht! Indeed. All of my needs and most of my wants are taken care of today so I can live from a place of gratitude and positivity vs a sense of lack. 

And really, it's the "what if's" that are like spitting into the wind. Are my fears real and tangible, like worrying about hurricanes or floods in certain areas of the country? Well then, assess the situation and take action. Are my worries primarily in my head, based on what I think might happen? Then come on back to the here and now. What is true in this actual moment?

So, assessing the situation, I 've checked out possible train or bus travel (not feasible - way too long), and now know the hotel cancellation policy. I packed my suitcase like I usual and kept an eye on the airline website. My spouse and I attended a friend's potluck, and drove a delightful fellow to his cancer appointment. I made dinners and cleaned the kitchen.  In other words, I put one foot in front of the other. Years ago I read a book, Creative Visualization, by Shakti Gawain, that like most descriptions of affirmations, says that one is to think and affirm that the positive has already happened. Instead of "I hope I get a good job" I'd affirm that "I have work I enjoy." So this week, I've been imagining myself walking my friend's dogs in Taos on Wednesday evening. 

A weekly post I receive, Sermons on the Couch, pointed out that there are a mere eight Sundays to go before we enter 2026. Eight! A few blinks and I'll be cursing the midnight fireworks on New Year's Eve as I've fallen asleep well before the clock turns. A friend once pointed out the number of months she likely has left. If I last as long at my mother, I'd have 180 months (though my intention is aiming for a healthy 100). Sounds odd when it's broken down like that, and we just never know, but time and again I'm reminded that there will be an end to this story. And time and time again, I ask myself, ala Mary Oliver, what is it I want to do with what remains of this wild and precious life?

I enjoy the writing of Alice McDermott, and am just reading Absolution, a novel about an American wife in South Vietnam just before the American War. She, along with a military wife and a couple of soldiers, are trying to do at least a bit of good in a country where there is much poverty. One of the soldiers has a permanently positive attitude, which she describes much like the Big Book talks about the joy in escaping a sinking ship, a sense of wonder and appreciation for this interesting life, despite the sorrow all around. 

On a good day, I'm right there with him, marveling at having recovered from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. It's been so very long now, but not so long that I've forgotten the sense of despair that colored my days. I am grateful for the newcomers in meetings who remind me of what was, but I'm telling you, I have enough vivid memories of my own should I ever be tempted to think, "Maybe it wasn't so bad." Yes, it was - bad and worse and I'm lucky to be alive.

And, after all my worries vs trust this past week, here I sit at the Portland airport, on my merry way. As someone once posted, nothing I've worried about has come true, so apparently worry works! (that's a joke....)

How do you remind yourself that many of your problems are of the luxury variety? What does "No whining on the yacht!" bring to mind? When there are actual troubles in your life, how do you us the principles of the program to assess the situation and take action?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.

Moving on

 So, good news in the health department this week, and then I got into a fender bender on the way home from the last medical appointment. Totally my fault, though the other driver may have been going more than the posted 20mph, and a big reminder to slow down and pay attention. I don't get into trouble every time I'm in a hurry, but most of the trouble I've been in was when I was in a hurry. 

And it's not like the whole world isn't in a tizzy these days, whichever side of the divide you're on. I can do my best to call on compassion for others as well as myself. Kind of like when I burst into tears when the radiologist told me I'm ok, I don't know what other people may be carrying.

We marked Dios de Los Muertos this weekend, All Saints Day in Christianity, when the veil between this world and the next is thought to be more permeable than usual. We put out photos of our dearly departed, mindful that no one is truly gone as long as someone is here to remember them. So, Mom, Dad, Aunty Jeanne, Clyde, Hassan, Doug, Diane, Jayna - the list goes on as I'm sure yours does as well. I printed out something from the internet about ancestors, as in. "In moments of fear, stress and the unknown, ask your departed ancestors for guidance and support; they have your back." I did that with my medical fears last week, knowing that my female lineage (the men too) are examples of walking through hard times, whether in the world (the Oregon Trail, the Great Depression, WWI and WWII) or the personal of early deaths and diseases. When I allow myself to get still, I can feel the power available to me, releasing the perceived need to figure it all out. 

I attended my last Step Group this past weekend, moving on after 12 years. Though certainly not the case with this particular involvement, it made me think of times I may have stayed in a situation longer than was healthy, whether a relationship or job, or even a meeting. I thought of a time when I first worked in treatment with teens. I often sat in on the young person's session with the psychiatrist, to help them relax just a bit. This particular time, I joined in while the older (50's? 60's?) Jewish psychiatrist from New York sang the Kenny Rogers song, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em" with a teenage boy from the Yakima Nation. I don't remember what it was in reference to - using friends? the gang life? - but the moment is etched in my mind as an excellent example of what we often hear to "meet them where they are." 

So in my process of knowing when to fold 'em, I came to a shift in perspective. Instead of "shoulding" on myself for quitting the Step Group, I decided that what I really was doing was releasing my spot in the group for someone else. This group (or job or friendship, etc) was good while it was good, and now it's time to move on.

I'm seeking another perspective shift in relation to an old idea. A couple of people in the group spoke to their need to slow down, whether in decision making or actions. I felt myself bristle just a tiny bit, knowing that "hurry" is often my M.O. When I was a kid, maybe 10 years old, my dad cautioned me to "Slow down, Jeanine!" as I ran from the bathroom back out to the ball game in the street. For a long time, I thought, "I don't need to slow down - the rest of you need to pick it up!" which usually got nods of recognition from the fellow stimulant addicts in the room. Maybe, just maybe, these days I can reframe the "slow down" to mean acting from serenity vs being chastised. Can I practice the beneficial aspect of slowing down without pathologizing my innate nature? 

Funny thing about those old ideas... for me, they may morph but are essentially the same. Part of the Step Group process was to, each year, identify a new idea to work towards. Wouldn't you know it, most of mine over the years were the same - trust the process, pause, relieve me of the bondage of self. I guess I'll keep coming back. 

What old ideas are still present and could benefit from reframing? How do you listen to the still, small voice to know that it is time to move on from a person, place or thing? As we enter the holiday season, how will you practice extra self-care?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.

Fears vs Trust

 This week I had coffee with two long-time friends from early recovery when we were peas in a pod - meetings, slumber parties, conferences - all the stuff of those exciting days of new sobriety. And, time marches on, with weddings and moves, changing habits (meetings/no meetings), changing activities - and yet, the history is there and the bond is real. Maybe not hang-out-every-weekend real, but still, a definite connection. 

I had no idea when I went into treatment that I'd be making lifelong friends. I'm fortunate enough to have friends I've known since grade school, and my bestie who I met when we were 18. And then the sober pals, some long gone, a handful still in my (digital) address book, though we may only see each other once or twice a year, and those I'm close to that I met in treatment. Grateful that I no longer feel the need to jettison people from my life for one imagined offense or another.

I'm working the Steps with my new AA sponsor, currently on Step 4. She'd asked if I wanted more time for writing inventory - no. These days I put pen to paper and see what flows. Gone are the days when I felt the need to go at my psyche with a pickax. As speaker Lila R points out, if I'm current with Step 10 there likely won't be too much to write about. A couple of resentments, a few fears, but what I mainly do these days is more a narrative of what is troubling me. I find that the act of writing eventually brings me to an understanding of underlying causes and conditions, as well as solutions. As was mentioned in a long-timer's meeting last week, over the years it has become much easier to be gentle with myself. 

Easier to be gentle with myself, and I hope, with those around me. I have a regularly scheduled brunch date with cousins on my dad's side - his half-brother's 2 daughters, their half-sisters, another cousin of theirs by marriage, and sometimes, dad's sister's remaining kids (I say "kids" but we're all in our 70's!). I was close with my immediate cousins, but the others, saw mainly at Christmas. It is nice knowing them as adults, discovering what we have in common (one is an avid fan of Jeopardy on TV, as am I), sharing our sometimes-twisted family sense of humor. None of them are people I see regularly. I don't need to approve or disapprove of their politics, their chosen lifestyle, what they order for lunch. While I crave and thrive on deep conversation, sometimes superficial is just fine, with the occasional deep dive. 

It's vaguely interesting to me that neither my brother or myself, or the two offspring of Dad's half-brother have reproduced (though the rest of the clan made up for it). Are we consciously or unconsciously breaking the chain of alcoholism? Whatever the reason, this particular strain of the family name ends here. Which, goes back to the ongoing conversation about legacy. Does it really matter in the long run? 

And, as the fates would have it, I had to skip the brunch to go to Urgent Care, on the suggestion of the phone advice nurse. In the past I likely would've told myself to ride it out, but as a breast cancer survivor, I pay closer attention to anything that doesn't seem right. As a past distance runner and current semi-distance walker, I nearly always have some aches and pains - the trick is to discern the usual from the unusual. Something felt off, so I made the call and have followed directions since then, with a two more appointments on the docket. More will be revealed, and I'm once again very grateful for good insurance that I know is a huge privilege. 

I will admit to having a hard time falling asleep the night before making the call to the advice nurse, running all sorts of scenarios through my mind, doing my best to rein it in to the Serenity and 3rd Step prayers. I'm not a doctor, so my midnight ruminations are pointless. Yes, powerlessness sucks, and I can strive for the cosmic exhale that comes with surrender, no matter how many times I need to remind myself I'm not in charge. 

And with now one of the appointments done, I can say "Whew!" with the radiologist's "all clear" after a mammogram and a second ultrasound.  I cried tears of relief when she said everything is ok. I've been mostly positive with an underlying dread. I do know that with the principles of the program, I can walk through anything that comes down the pike, and I'm very, very grateful to be over this small speed bump of uncertainty.

How do you stay positive when the whispers of "what it?" work their way in? How do you use the inventory process today? Has there been any change in your ability to be gentle with yourself for characteristics or blunders, real or imagined?  How about with other people?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.

Decisions, Aging, Mentors...

 Until something else becomes obvious, the "what's next?" is right here, right now.

I came across the above quote this week and passed it on to a friend who really needs it right now, only to realize that I'm the one who really needs to be reminded of doing the next right thing without trying to polish the (non-existent) crystal ball. This life isn't so much of a mystery that I need to figure out what's behind Door Number 1 or Door Number 2. I'm rarely faced with an either/or decision these days, and if I am, can follow the old adage that if I don't know what to do, don't do anything. What a concept. How many times did I make a hasty decision simply to ease my anxiety? One of my Alanon readers reminds me that "waiting is an action." Breathing, breathing...

In the past week, in three different meetings, three of my elders talked about aging - one with trepidation, one upset at their saggy neck, one with a "Wow - this is a whole new journey." Yes to all three in varying degrees, but especially to the "Wow." Earlier in life I had specific expectations and desires - to have work I enjoyed at least part of the time, to build a loving and healthy partnership, perhaps the next college degree or class. Not that there aren't things I'd like to do, but the striving piece of yesteryear has very much quieted. This aging thing is uncharted territory. Uncharted and so very individual. I can watch those who are further along the path, but as I was told when my mother was dying, "Yes, many of us have been there too, and it is your journey alone." I can very much draw on the wisdom of those who've gone before, and at 3am, it is just me and my brain. Where will I direct my attention?

I'm reading Breaking the Age Code by Becca Levy, subtitled "How your Beliefs About Aging Determine How Long & How Well You Live." I'm not sure that simply believing I'll live to 100 will make it so, but she has some good points about how cultural beliefs and biases influence our thinking, comparing cultures where aging is revered vs US culture which too often focuses on diminishments associated with the later years. I do subscribe to the philosophy that our thoughts influence our world and am very grateful that I didn't hear much complaining from my older relations. I don't recall my mother or my closest aunt saying much negative about getting older. What they did talk about was how much they'd enjoyed their 50's and that the 60's were even better. Maybe they felt the same about their 70's as well. By their 80's, there were some illnesses, which definitely shifts one's world view, but both traveled that path with grace and dignity, my aunt once saying, "Well you didn't think I was going to live forever, did you?!" Actually, I'd kind of hoped...

One of my (non-program) daily readers this week spoke to gratitude for the support we received from teachers or mentors earlier in life. I scratch my head at that one. In grade school, I was more often chastised than encouraged, in trouble for eating candy in class, cussing, not sitting still, talking out of turn, with one memorable, "You have so much potential..." lecture. In high school, I had teachers I liked more than others, but none felt like a mentor - big classes full of baby boomers, me running off for a cigarette or a joint whenever possible. 

In sobriety, of course, another story, with sponsors and trusted others and those of wise-words in meetings. In my younger years, especially as a young wife with zero homemaking skills, I was embarrassed to ask for help, thinking I was "supposed" to know even if I hadn't been taught. Through recovery, I developed into a fairly competent person, evident when I was in treatment for breast cancer. Friends asked how they could help after surgery, but by then I'd made a pot of soup and figured I'd mostly sleep. A good friend said it wasn't that I was resistant to asking for help, but more that I couldn't imagine for what. I don't think that is a character defense - when my husband and first husband were both diagnosed with cancer in the same month, I definitely asked for help - from my employer, for rides to treatment, someone for me to process with. So, situation dependent. (That's what I'm telling myself anyway!)

This Sunday I walked to my former home group, now re-attending, on a glorious autumn day with leaves in full splendor as the sun began to set. For me, this time of year makes it so much easier to be in the moment, reveling in nature's beauty, her final show of leaves seemingly lit from within before winter's darkness. I appreciate the seasons, with the opportunity to pay attention to both my surroundings and my heart. One day at a time, the beat goes on.

What are your core beliefs around the aging process? Did, or do you have elders you'd consider role models? What are their qualities that you appreciate? What about mentors or teachers, either before or after recovery? As someone with long term sobriety, how are you a mentor or guide for others?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.

Friends

We spent a long weekend with my spouse's family in the Bay Area last week, celebrating a group of birthdays, including the patriarch's 96th. What a world of change he's seen in his lifetime, as have we all. And what joy in watching the little ones grow!  And, what a joy to connect with our AA family while there, hitting a few meetings, along with those precious meeting-after-the-meeting conversations.  

I was invited to do an Alanon lead while there, with a focus on Tradition 10, no opinion on outside issues. On the surface, "obviously," thinking of religion and politics, but as I dug a bit deeper, I read how those outside issues are really anything outside my hula hoop, which seems to get smaller the longer I'm around! Dang it. But I have so many opinions and ideas! In the breakout circle after my share, a member said they have strong opinions about things they don't even care about. Whew! That certainly hit home. How often do I have an almost automatic response to something I know very little about, or that really doesn't concern me?! Judging by commentary on online posts, I'm not alone in that. One more time, the pause is invaluable.

We were very fortunate to host my best friend and his other best friend for the night as part of the return from his cross-country move of a few years ago. We had a little breakfast party before they headed out, with two friends joining who hadn't met the other bestie in real life. Like with our Bay Area pals, I'm gratified and grateful at the depth of relationships I've developed over zoom, all the sweeter when we can gather in person. We are people who normally would not mix, or more likely, would never have crossed paths were it not for recovery. And how sweet to share a meal with people I've now know for decades, including three of us who were in treatment together, and one I 12-stepped before she turned 21. 

And isn't it funny, that term "best friend." When I was a kid, say 7th or 8th grade, that was a specific designation. I remember feeling hurt one day when my cousin announced that the person I thought was my best friend was now her best friend. We had a lot to learn about relationships in those days, and I suppose hurt feelings were part of the process. Many, many years later a different cousin told me how her feelings were hurt when I got my first serious boyfriend and she moved to second fiddle. It wasn't until I got sober that I learned how to truly be a friend, not just when it was convenient. not just one-sided, and that I can have multiple "best friends" as can my friends.  And when I do feel left out, or jealous of other's relationships, I can remind myself that there is enough love, friendship and attention for us all. Isn't growing up wonderful (said only slightly sarcastically)? It might've been simpler when age appropriate, but so much more interesting (and sometimes painful) at an age I can be aware of what's going on inside me. 

It's been a wonderful, though slightly hectic few weeks, with my car in the shop, travel, then home to furious housecleaning for our guests (apparently we should have company more often!), an NBA game, brunch with friends, and hubs back to work. In my working days, sometimes going back to the office felt like a rest after an active vacation. I am grateful for a full and rich life, and need to remember that it is the quiet days of routine that give texture to the whole of it.

How big is your hula hoop? What are some situations that could be considered an outside issue? Do you have a best friend? How does that feel different than when you were younger? How do you find or maintain balance between active and more passive pursuits? 

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Legacy

 A good friend has suggested I write about legacy, as in, what do we leave behind, who remembers us and what impressions do they have, along with the big one, "How important is it that we are remembered?" Philosophers and great thinkers through the ages have contemplated that one. We're the only species that thinks about being remembered - the human ego on full display. Does it matter to anyone but me and maybe their loved ones that I speak about my AA forebearers (like Leonard C and Norm B)? Once all my worldly possessions are disposed of in one way or another, does it really matter if people remember me? In theory, I won't know. Maybe it's that whole piece of wanting to have mattered in some way - the existential question of the meaning of life. I didn't reproduce, or write the Great American Novel. I didn't cure cancer or fix any social ills. I do hope that my actions have left the world just a wee bit better, through my profession or my interactions... And, as I contemplate my upcoming 40th anniversary (no fronts!), would it be so bad to be remembered as someone who gave great parties? 

While noting the long and important life of Dr. Jane Goodall, I was reassured by something she is reported to have said  - There is either nothing, or something after death. If nothing, then nothing and it is done. If something (and she believes so), she looks forward to the adventure of finding out.

Psychologist Erik Erikson's theory of human development described middle adulthood as a time of "Generativity vs Stagnation" when people create or nurture things that will outlast them with late adulthood (65 - death) as the time of Integrity vs Despair, when we, in theory anyway, reflect on our lives with either acceptance or regret. I very definitely have fewer regrets today than I would've before sobriety. I do sometimes contemplate if there is anything I'd regret not having done when the end comes. Not a "bucket list" per se, but more about a way of being.

I am thinking more and more about the end - probably fairly normal "as we age" (and why is it so often much younger doctors who use that phrase?!). I've taken to pointing things out to my spouse, with an "If I go first____" lead in. I used to tell my mom that I didn't want any lingering illness from her. It had been so painful watching my father die, compounded by this non-talkative man having had his larynx removed due to tobacco related cancer. With my mother, as excruciating the long-good bye was (she was on hospice over 8 months), it was good being able to say all that needed to be said, and start at least thinking about the business end of things. And, we don't get to choose, unless of course, we do, and that's a whole 'nother topic.

And, today is today. I can plan ahead, whether for the next trip or the final one, while being firmly planted in the here and now. I've re-started a meditation practice, using guided imagery, which helps me focus. On Sunday, I walked a half-marathon (13.1 miles) on a glorious fall day here in Portland, chatting with folks along the way, eliciting some "Happy Birthday's" when I pointed out I'm celebrating turning 71. Who would've thought, when I could barely make it up the stairs at my home group in 1986 that I'd be reasonably healthy and still moving all these years later? One day at a time, one step at a time, one decision at a time. 

What might you hope your legacy to be? Are there dreams or goals you want to attend to? How does Jane Goodall's statement about dying strike you? How does your spiritual program guide your days?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Hindsight

 My sometimes walking route takes me past the apartment I moved into when I left my first husband. I was 23, had never lived on my own before, and well into daily drinking, along with the poor decision making that went along with that (cue disco music). I probably kept the apartment for close to a year, though only lived there for maybe 6 months. When my new boyfriend came home from an extended family/business trip, I essentially moved in with him.

I wasn't much of a blackout drinker, yet I have very few actual memories of my time in the apartment. I remember my dad going with me to buy my first car (a Chevy Nova) and the driving school instructor coming over for my lessons. I remember awful hangovers, hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock 3  or 4 times, groggily downing an Instant Breakfast with toast while reading the comics and Dear Abby, then walking to work about a mile away. A non-alcoholic friend from school was a runner, knocking on the door a few times in the early morning so I could join her, stopping after one too many sleepy (i.e. hungover) groans through the screen door that I couldn't go. 

In hindsight, that all-knowing, all-seeing oracle, I sure wish I'd lived on my own, and maybe gone to college before getting married - though if I'd done either, I probably wouldn't have gotten married at all. I was very competent in the workplace back then, but had such limited maturity in the realm of relationships. I can be grateful to have survived, to have not gone home with the wrong stranger, to have never wrecked a car.

At one of my Alanon meetings this week, the topic was "love," with the sad awareness that love isn't enough to save someone from addiction. As people shared, I realized that, as a kid, I confused love with pity, with the illusion of control, or performance, as in "if I do this, that or the other thing, the person I love will be OK." In reality, love has to do with respecting another's decisions, no matter how stupid those may seem. My heroin addicted boyfriend died of an overdose. All the "love" in the world couldn't change his unwillingness or inability to accept his powerlessness. Love can mean trust, as in trusting that you know what is best for yourself in the moment. I don't have to agree. 

And a huge piece of recovery has to do with learning to love myself enough to stay in my lane, to understand on a gut level that my dad's alcoholism wasn't my fault, to have compassion for others without trying to be in charge. Loving myself means paying attention to the still, small voice that I used to try to outrun or ignore, the voice that said, "Ah, not a good idea," while I went ahead anyway. Loving myself these days means respecting the HALTS, paying attention to bodily changes without being paranoid, following routines that work for me while being flexible when circumstances warrant. The saying we've heard a thousand times - let us love you until you can love yourself - seemed so very corny, especially since I had no idea what it meant. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly...

I've been to a couple of in-person meetings this past week, one my long time (and long ago) home group that I intend to continue. It's at the same church, in a different room (with a working fireplace), and only one guy from back in the day - and that guy just celebrated 42 years. Between the pandemic and getting older (!) I've gotten very comfortable with my online connections. And, in-person meetings allow for more spontaneous interactions, and real life hugs. 

Name three things you're grateful for today. Is there a person or situation that you might need to release? What did "Let us love you until you can love yourself?" mean to you at the beginning? Now? 

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

ODAT

 In a meeting this week, someone shared their feelings of overwhelm, given all that's going on in the world at the moment. I get it, and think it would be odd if we, if I, didn't have feelings about the sad state of affairs. What struck me, as I did my best to quiet my racing mind, is that what I hear about on the "news" is what's happening on the edges, the fringes, the loudest voices that get the most attention. From my actual view of my actual life, it seems that most people are simply living - getting the kids to school, shopping for groceries, making dinner, going to the beach. I need to remember that I have a choice on what I ingest. As I re-heard recently, I'm not responsible for my first thought, but I am responsible for my second, as well as where I put my attention. How long am I spending in online news outlets or on TV, or reading stranger's comments on social media?

A friend recently noted the huge differences in the world today, where many (some?) are engaged in intense relationship with people online they'll never meet, or even see their faces. This friend noted a visceral sense of the wheel of time shifting, with our generation no longer relevant to the younger. I very much relate, and it makes me just a bit sad, which I'm sure each generation must feel as time and technology sprints onward.

All of this increases my gratitude for our 12 Step programs - the timeless wisdom and guidance inherent in the principles. I'm not asked to show my Voter Registration card at a meeting, or to sign any kind of loyalty pledge to one faction or another. It is suggested that I practice (emphasis on practice) the ideals of honesty, open-mindedness, willingness, and service.  I'm reminded of a friend from Northern Ireland who was asked to speak at a meeting in what would've been enemy territory during their civil war. He, and his vehicle, were safe while he shared, with the spoken and unspoken rule of our primary purpose. 

I walked 10 miles this morning in preparation for a half marathon in October. I'd realized I was under-prepared, ala resting on my laurels. "Well, I walked the Camino," I've been telling myself, though that was over 4 months ago! Much like program - while I have a strong foundation, my serenity and peace of mind isn't based on what I did 10 years, 10 weeks or even 10 days ago. How am I applying the principles today? 

Along those lines, I met with my AA sponsor this week, reading from the 12x12 and discussing Step 4. My initial reaction was thinking that I don't really need to do inventory. After all, I've been sober a long time and my characteristics (aka character defects) are under control! Ha! Complacency? Self justification?? While I don't think I need to dig for what may or may not be there, I can give myself the time to get still and see what comes up. I don't lie, cheat or steal anymore, but are there ways I'm dishonest with my emotions? Isn't it a form of cheating when I have expectations of how people should behave? Do I steal, or squander time when I spend it worrying about the future?

And so, the beat goes on. I, for one, am very grateful that the season has shifted to autumn - sweater weather, though still warm this week in Portland. Sometimes I complain about the heat, but need to remind myself I'll likely be complaining about the cold and wet in a few months. At least with the weather, I know I'm powerless. I will look to take that same understanding to other areas that may frustrate me - other people's decisions or actions, traffic, neighborhood noise, etc. ODAT

How do you feel about changes in technology and social culture? Are you making peace with the passage of time? Are there areas of self-care or your program where you may be resting on your laurels? How will you re-engage?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Perceptions...

 I feel the need to bust myself and my sometimes judgy assumptions. As I waited for the small plane to take me from Minneapolis to Grand Forks, ND to meet my friend for the hour drive to his sister's place, I couldn't help but notice a woman, laughing and talking very loudly to anyone within earshot. Kind of like when there are crying babies in the waiting area, I thought, "Please don't let me be seated next to her." 

Of course, I was, and within minutes, she told me her name, that she's high-functioning Down's Syndrome, that she travels independently and was on her way to spend a month with a favorite aunt. We had a delightful visit, talking about her professed obsession with Elvis, her family, and her plans for participating in a fashion show while at her aunt's. And so, one more time, my perception and initial impression were way off. A good reminder to check myself when my inner critic starts her rant.

On our drive west, we found a small meeting in Utah, chaired by a fellow with 3 or 4 years, 1 other guy, and a treatment center van of about 15 women. My friend was able to take his 40-year coin, longer sober than many of these women had been alive. It was enlightening, and always a good reminder, to hear nearly half of the women who shared talk about having some years in recovery, then either "forgetting" they're alcoholic, or simply deciding to stop treating the disease (stop meetings, no sponsor, etc) and, lo and behold, drinking and drugging again and back in treatment. Heartbreaking, the stubbornness of we drunks, especially those who talked about their small children. Chronic, progressive, debilitating. I'm convinced that the brain gets damaged with continued substance use, affecting the ability to make healthy decisions. Yes, people do get lasting sobriety after 5, 10 or 15 tries, but from the outside, it sure looks like it gets harder and harder to come back. 

It was great spending time with my friend, though I only drove a few of our many hours on the road. We stopped at a couple of sites (the Badlands, Mt Rushmore), listened to 3 speaker CD's, ate Subway sandwiches at truck stops and drank Starbucks when we found them. I'd never been to that part of the country, amazed by the geographical journey through amber waves of grain, canyons, passing oil derricks, and through tiny towns. We had a counselor in treatment all those years ago who'd say, "You can do anything you want to do as long as you don't drink or use." For me, travel is part of that "anything," seeing places I've only read about, experiencing different cultures, even if just in passing (and believe me, life on the road in the heartland is a different culture than where I live). 

I drove a new-to-me cancer patient to his appointment this week - a jovial, older guy who insisted on sitting up front with me so we could be friends, wearing a button that said, "Fuck Cancer" - in other words, my kind of guy. A nurse friend once told me that she and her peers liked working oncology because those folks nearly always have a positive attitude. 

What is it about staring death in the face that often brings out the best in people? I see it in the rooms with the laughter and camaraderie, like the survivors of  sinking ship the Big Book talks about. We've been to the gates of hell and had the grace and the strength to claw our way back. Sure, it's not always unicorns and rainbows, but here we are, sober a long, long time, living life on life's terms.  As I say, "grateful" is too small a word.  

The world feels extra crazy right now, with cries for peace bumping up against calls for revenge. I try to walk the fine line between being informed and engaged, and not losing my serenity in the fray. What I do is stick with my morning routine of daily readers and journal, walking outdoors, contact with friends, being of service where I can, avoiding large crowds, and  meditating on peace, for myself, my country and our planet. One day at a time is all I can reasonably do.

What do you do when you catch yourself in judgement of yourself or others? Are you able to hold compassion for the chronic relapser? How can you be of service, while also taking care of yourself? Where do you find peace of mind when the "news" of the day is heartbreaking and/or infuriating?

* * * * * *

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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Settled-ness

 This past week I drove with my dear friend from Minnesota to Las Vegas as he contemplates next steps after an early out from his job in DC. Part of the journey was spending the night at his sister's place, who I haven't seen in person for many years. I always want to thank her for my sobriety. If she hadn't gotten sober and moved to Portland, then my friend likely wouldn't have moved to Portland and gotten sober when he did and ended up in the treatment program I went to in January 1986. Who knows if I'd have stayed sober without his positive influence. Maybe, but it's been a lot more fun together.

I love stepping back just a bit to look at random connections, all the way back to Bill and Bob. There was the conversation I struck up with a fellow in Vancouver, BC in July, who turned out to be a classmate of my brother's, the woman from a class at the gym who is pals with a program friend, being introduced to someone who turned out to be a work mentor by my then supervisor who knew she was terminally ill. One day at a time, one connection at a time

Speaking of, I attended my original homegroup a couple of weeks ago, having not been there in literally decades. There was one fellow there from those old days and we spoke of the ghosts in the room - Boxcar Leonard, Jack, Kim, Art N - folks whose words and wisdom contributed greatly to my sobriety. Random connections, simply by virtue of walking into the same room week after week. I didn't know that I craved community before I got sober, but I'm so glad that I found it.

In another recent meeting, a member shared that something has shifted in long-term sobriety, that the same annoyances and irritations and fears no longer held much weight. I agree. Being 39 and change, I too have noticed a settled-ness that wasn't there in earlier years.  

Some of my internal shifts have felt sudden, though the path to get there was anything but. I think of my tearful prayer while in treatment, "F-it God - I can't do this anymore. You take over." with the feeling like a pencil snapping in two - one minute I needed to get loaded and the next I didn't. A gift. And then, after years of inventory and outside help, there was the sensation of a lightning bolt when I finally understood, from my head to my heart, that my dad's alcoholism and depression had nothing to do with me. A gift.

But much of the psychic rearrangements of these later years have been more subtle, calmer, gradual, with the realization that "Oh That would've been harder in years past," or "Whoa! Did that statement really come from me?" I think the principles of the program become internalized over time, that life on life's terms softens my response, as in "I've been through this before, or know someone who has, and I know I'll be OK." Not that I want the diagnosis or the bad news, the change in plans or finding my foot stuck in my mouth, but time has shown me that I can do just about anything, ODAT.

What random connections have contributed to your ongoing recovery, or perhaps to your career or other life events? What about the psychic rearrangements, cataclysmic or gradual? How are your 10th Steps different today? 

* * * * * *

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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

History as a trigger

 I'm not sure how to write about this in a general way, so I'll just dive into what's on my mind. The other evening I watched a PBS documentary about the singer, Janis Ian, who's first release was a song she wrote at age 14 called Society's Child. Released in 1966, it was considered controversial as it was about a white girl's relationship with a Black boy that the girl gave up because of society's judgements. 

My relationship with my first husband started in 1970, when acceptance in the area of interracial relationships had shifted some, but that song still hit me in my idealistic teenage heart. For the most part, my family and  peers were fine with us, but there were definitely incidences of discrimination and prejudice, mostly from adults (like the physician who told my mother to "keep her away from 'them'" to the construction workers on our street who made a snide comment about me after my boyfriend dropped me off after school, the police officer who leaned into my side of the car to ask, "Does your mother know where you are?" while staring at my boyfriend). 

Maybe it's because of the anniversary of his birthday, and of our wedding date in September, with him now gone 5 years. Maybe it was watching footage in the documentary of the social and civil rights revolution and so many being harmed. Maybe it was the grief that I still sometimes feel for the younger me that often flailed through life, but whatever the reason, I found myself weeping in my spouse's arms, sad for the 15, 16, 17-year-old me that, while sometimes acting defiant, was stunned by the overt judgment of others. (as racial prejudice wasn't something I was raised with). At the time, I collected magazine articles on the subject, wrote poetry, and talked for hours with my best friend and my boyfriend, about the ignorance that fed hate. Once married, we had a great life (for a while), back when drinking was still fun in our multi-cultural friend group. But I will say that as I contemplated the demise of the marriage (my mother was right - we were too young), I was sad to now be just another statistic of a mixed couple who didn't make it.

What does this have to do with long-term recovery? I'm not sure, other than my surprise that those old, old feelings that I may not even have acknowledged at the time, reached out to say, "Sometimes it was tough back then."  I think of the many times over the years that healing came through unexpected tears, having done the internal work, having emotionally or spiritually opened the channel, or sometimes just because of a song on the radio or a story on TV.

The late 60's and early 70's were an intense time to grow up, whether one followed a more traditional path or not. I suppose each generation has its trials and joys, from wars and politics, economics and pop culture of the day. The AA literature advises that we not get overly invested in affairs of the world. Easier said than done, and all a part of who I am today. 

And so, the beat goes on, which sometimes includes the past reaching out to grab me by the ankle with an "I bet you forgot about this!"  I've learned, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, that my emotions usually just want to be acknowledged, and in doing so, I allow them to pass on through. Sometimes that benefits from pen to paper, sometimes a conversation with a trusted other, sometimes an internal "Yes. I see you."

Are there incidences, memories or situations from your past that sometimes speak to you these days? How do you gain perspective on the past, forgiving yourself or perhaps others? Do you have tools that help you stay in the present?

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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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them from Summerfest, if you're in the area

Doing vs being...

 After an awesome week with a friend, including much of what I sometimes think I don't have time for (a day at the beach, hike in the woods, dinner with friends), it felt good to reclaim the 2nd bathroom and my office/guest room. I love getting ready for company, and... it is nice doing a reset to my usual regimen. I didn't really know that about myself before I got sober - my preference for structure and routine. Self-knowledge isn't enough to stop drinking, but it sure is a boon to my serenity today. 

As we swelter through a 2nd heatwave (100 degrees is very hot for Portland) I find myself thinking ahead to the shift in seasons. OK, a bit of future tripping as I anticipate sweater weather, but rather than thinking about what I want to do, I'm meditating on how I want to be as fall approaches. I nearly always have a To-Do list, but I also think of seasonal change as an opportunity for a mini-inventory of what's working and what isn't, whether that's related to meetings, my volunteer gig, or how I approach my days. Am I getting agitated or distracted by too much time reading the news of the day? Do I have passion for my walking practice, or am I just going through the motions (not bad in and of itself if I'm still moving, but maybe time to rethink my routes or timing)?

As August winds down, I'll make tomato sauce from our bounty because it needs to be done, but also as a way to connect with my female lineage, oh they of stout figure and full pantry. I'll check around the house exterior for any minor repairs needed, mindful of the responsibilities of homeownership. I'll start keeping an eye out for next year's journal, because it's what I love to do. 

I realize much of what I'm describing is related to "doing" but what I want to be conscious of is the attitude I bring to even mundane tasks. A friend shared something from a woman, now deceased, who knew she wouldn't live to see her young child grow up. This woman said she didn't have time to hurry, to be in a rush, knowing that she really, truly needed/wanted to savor every single moment. 

I've long been a "hurry up" kind of person, afraid to run out of time for this thing or another, not wanting to be late - in my mother's world, being on-time was late, so I know that this "ism" is at least partially learned behavior. I don't want to pathologize this trait, "and" can apply "How important is it?" when I'm feeling rushed. Am I in danger of being late for a flight, or is it merely my internal clock ticking?

Self-examination can apply to anything troubling. Perhaps procrastination is the issue or being chronically late; worries about money, real or imagined; fears around mortality or aging... pick your poison, as they say. I know that my characteristics are on a continuum, from helpful to hurtful, and they haven't really changed much over the years, other than by incremental degrees. What I appreciate about long-term recovery is that I'm (generally) aware of what is my stuff. Impatience? Check. Oldest child always right syndrome? Check. 

With August's focus on Step 8, I like to go back to the 12x12 (p.80) where Bill describes the importance of examining our personal relationships for details about ourselves. This isn't just about making a list, but about looking at how I interact in the world (because usually, the troubles I have with one person are the troubles I have with others). I love that he recommends going beyond the superficial - the lying, cheating and stealing - to discover the causes and conditions. For a long, long time, causes and conditions drove my behavior, for the most part unconsciously. And that's another benefit of long term sobriety - much of what I carried around in my head has made its way to my heart. That scared little girl, or snarky teenager, sometimes still tries to run the show, but I'm much better able to recognize and comfort that part of myself before getting into too much trouble. 

Do you have any seasonal rituals around this time of year? Are there any nourishing activities you think you don't have time for that you could do this week? In addition to things you want or need to do, how do you want to be? How does Step 8 allow you to go deeper into the dynamics of you your relationships?

* * * * * *

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 who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you). 

Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them, if you're in the area.

Home

 In the last month, in two separate situations with two different people, I made up a story in my head about intention and motivation, taking the role of victim in one saga and the misunderstood spiritual warrior (again, victim) in the other. Upon further investigation, in contact with the actual people involved, the "me, me, me" proved completely false. Funny how that works - make stuff up, or ask questions. 

Years ago, someone shared their New Year's resolution to only talk to people who were actually in the room. How often do I hold entire conversations in my head, based on a snippet that might've been said, or a total fabrication? Once again and always, sound the "pause" alarm. Do I need to pick up the phone, or simply drop the fantasy (which is rarely positive)? Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly...

Every year around this time I question my ongoing participation in the monthly Step Group I've been a part of for close to a decade now. Like I hear others in the group say, I don't necessarily do the "homework" (reading in Big Book and 12x12) though I do think about how the particular Step applies in my life. Realistically, these days I think of the Steps as a whole, a way of life framed in honesty, open-mindedness and willingness - willingness to own my behaviors, open to new ideas, honest with myself and others. I will say that most of my "isms" show up in my primary relationship, which I'm not always comfortable talking about at group level. Is it pride? Trust issues? Maybe a little of both, and worth a conversation with a trusted other. I am feeling, though, that it is time to either do the work (vs last minute scribbles the day of) or move on. More will be revealed. It is a good group of strong women, and in-person. (and this is what I do - talk myself out of it and back in!)

A good friend from out-of-town is visiting this week - fun to hit the road (& the restaurants!), playing tour guide, connecting with mutual friends I don't usually see, and motivation to clean house! In a couple of weeks, I get to take a road trip with my bestie. I'm so very grateful to be retired. I sometimes think I'm supposed to have a grand plan, but basically it seems to be a matter of suiting up and seeing what the day, or week, presents. 

And I'm thinking of place, where we feel we belong, as a long-time acquaintance is home holding vigil for their father's passing. This person's life is a far cry from their rural upbringing, but putting their hands and feet in the earth of the family farm feels right. I think of that sense of place as a dear friend contemplates and makes plans to move back to the Midwest, back to where they grew up, back home. My sense of place, of belonging, is firmly rooted in the mossy green of my hometown. Even as a young kid, moving from the high desert of Central Oregon, I knew that the verdant Willamette Valley was my spiritual home (along with the mountains and ocean shore). 

Certain friendships have their place also - my friend who died as a result of ALS will always be associated with a particular long hill route where we trained for several marathons. Other friends are specific to a meeting where we sat near each other, or a dear family I associate with Miami (though several of them are now elsewhere). 

I've sometimes admired friends who freely move from one part of the country to another, though know that, just for today, that isn't me. I used to chastise myself just a bit for that, but now think that my rootedness is ok. I love to travel and experience different places, from rural New Mexico to NYC and beyond. And I love coming home. 

How do you catch yourself if you're having conversations in your mind that may or may not be based in reality? Where do you feel at home? Is that where you live, or elsewhere? How does the braided way of the 12 Steps inform your life as a person in long-term recovery?

Time...

 I stopped at one of the many "Little Free Library" kiosks in the neighborhood on a morning walk this week, perusing several titles as if I was at a Barnes and Noble. I walked away with two books, one, a true story about an elephant and his person, and another non-fiction about Army and Navy nurses held captive in the Pacific during WWII. Both look to be interesting, and if not, they'll go back to the kiosk sooner rather than later.

Long gone are the days I felt I had to finish every book I started. I'm not even sure where that notion came from, though I do remember a teacher showing us how to prime a new book for reading so as not to break the spine. I've also given myself permission to read simply for pleasure, rather than forcing myself to read the classics. Yes, some of those could be for pleasure, but I don't think there will be an entrance exam to heaven, or whatever comes next (if anything). Several years ago I had a conversation with someone slightly older than me, who'd realized they didn't have time to read all of a particular author's catalog. Again, no test at the end.

No test, but how will I feel at the end of it all? Did I allow myself to be appropriately challenged? Did I sprinkle in some educational tomes along with literary fiction and the occasional detective drama? My stoic, introverted brother can be found reading, often non-fiction, whenever I stop by. He doesn't have a mobile phone, so no mindless surfing for him. How many times in a day does one actually need to check social media?

 A friend asked if I read more now that I'm retired, and I think the answer is actually a bit less. Where I used to utilize the demarcation line between work and evening as a time to read for a bit (usually something of a spiritual or program nature), these days my daytime activities seem to morph into evening, as in, "Oh, it's almost time for dinner." 

Not that I'm overly invested in monumental doings. I'm noticing a wee bit of ennui as summer begins to wind down, with an ongoing internal inventory of whether or not it's been a good summer. It's been a different summer, with my spouse's huge work schedule shift, some travel, less time sitting in parks on summer nights with friends listening to local R&B music, less time in the garden for some reason. Sometimes I think I can be a little too introspective, but if nothing else over these many years of sobriety, I've learned to pay attention when something feels off-kilter, when I catch myself engaged in self-imposed isolation.

The missing link seems to be around engaging with friends - my balance between solo and social is off.  Funny, though, as in "is it odd or is it god?" within hours of identifying that particular lack, a friend reached out to re-start our Cabal meetings after summer hiatus. Yes. Connection. Spiritual conversation with people I trust. Exhale. And wouldn't you know it, I had several deep, to the core, conversations over the weekend while attending the Summerfest conference in Eugene, OR, and delightfully ran into someone I knew as a client many years ago now. We are people who normally would not mix, but I'm so glad we do.

Normally people who would not mix, or even meet each other. I was so grateful (again, that small word for such a big emotion) to start the weekend at the conference sitting off in a corner of the hotel lobby logged on to our every-other-week across the country zoom meeting, celebrating a member's 38th anniversary. And on Sunday, my BFF who I met in treatment, celebrated 40. 40 freaking years!?! How does that even happen? Yeah, yeah, one day at a time, but how quickly those days seem to have gone. The step-daughter who was 9 when we met is now 25, my mom has been gone for 13 years, I've been retired for 5. 

Somewhere I read that making friends with the passage of time is to my benefit, rather than the "OMG!" I so often do. As the women's meditation book says, each day really is a new beginning, a potentially new adventure if I open my mind and my heart.

How has your summer been thus far? How do you notice when you're feeling off-balance, and whether that is an internal or an external matter? How do you, or might you, make friends with the passage of time, greeting aging and the calendar with gratitude rather than dread? 

* * * * * *

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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. Also, Barth Books and Gifts took a few workbooks back to Yakima, WA with them, if you're in the area.