One choice at a time

 We're planning to attend the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC this summer, looking forward to seeing friends from around the country as well as those we haven't met yet. I've been to every one since I got sober (Seattle, San Diego, Minneapolis, Toronto, San Antonio, Atlanta), even making a visit to Intergroup in Detroit in 2022, after the covid-cancellation of the 2020 Convention. I think about the excitement of those early trips, stunned by the power of 50,000 reciting the Serenity Prayer together. Sometimes crowds can be a bit much these days, but with a group of AA's and Alanon'ds, the vibe is definitely more mellow that some large groups I've been in at concerts and the like. I do appreciate and value the coming together, the celebration of lives that maybe wouldn't have continued were it not for getting sober. 

Whenever I hear someone complain about getting older, I remind them that it is a privilege denied many, especially after learning about a recent suicide of a member of our community. Depression is such a dreadful illness. I didn't know the person, except in passing, but I've been hit with the grief of knowing how very, very low someone must feel if the only way out they can see is to end it all. From listening to others who've lost someone that way, and in my years working in the field, it seems that sometimes that decision is a well-thought-out plan, and sometimes spur of the moment, both equally heartbreaking. As I used to hear in meetings, if I kill myself now, I'm killing the wrong person, implying that with perspective and distance, I change. None of which makes a difference now, when the deed is done.  And while this wasn't the case with the current loss, a big "BS" and "shame on you" to the bleeding deacon who tells their sponsee that the Steps will fix everything.

On another note altogether, I was chastised for my "Go with the flow" post last week, by someone who strongly feels that is not the correct response to the current state of the nation. Exhaling, I can see where they're coming from and feel strongly myself that AA/Alanon has no opinion on outside issues, though I myself certainly do. And while these postings are not AA/Alanon, they are my attempts to practice the principles in all my affairs, and to allow you, dear reader, to do the same, whether we have the same political, religious/spiritual, or health related beliefs or not. A friend who thinks differently that I do recently called me in tears because they were afraid of losing a friendship with someone who believes differently. These are challenging times. What I keep reading, and coming back to myself, is the Serenity Prayer and the absolute importance of staying centered, being kind in my sphere, and stepping up where called. I'm loosely reminded of when I worked with teens in a residential program, many of whom were going home to tough situations. We'd help them devise a plan, as in "What will you do to stay safe and sober when all hell breaks loose at home?" I cannot, or rather will not, live in outrage, 14 on a scale of 1-10, which renders me useless. My primary purpose is to stay sober, physically and emotionally, and to be of service, one day, one choice at a time, in the rooms and out. 

How are you of service today, in big ways and in small? Is there someone in your sphere who could use a little extra support this week? How about you? How will you practice self-care today?

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

Go with the flow

 

"Life is amazing. And then it's awful. And then it's amazing again. And in between the amazing and awful it's ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That's just living a heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it's breathtakingly beautiful."

L.R. Knost

As one who was addicted to stimulants, I was hopeful that "happy, joyous and free" meant all day, every day. Later, when I heard about the runner's high, I waited for the jolt of energy, sadly learning that the "high" referenced was of the more mellow, all-is-well variety. As I've heard others say, I'd sometimes wonder where the cash and prizes were kept, the unicorns and rainbows of my imagined cartoon universe. Alas, life is amazing and then awful, and sometimes just is, and today that's ok when I remember that every shift in mood doesn't require an inventory.

Case in point - last week I did a 45-minute share at a good meeting out of Pittsburg. Because of the length, I spent a fair amount of time in the "what it was like" portion of the story - claiming my seat, as we say, though I do hope that the bulk of the share was "what it's like now." Anyhow, the next day, I felt flat, with some reflection that I came to understand was grief. The three men I was in relationship with before sobriety are all dead - one from an overdose, one the result of alcoholism, and one from lung cancer. Good men, all of them. Maybe not right for me in the long run, but decent human beings, and except for the man who overdosed, I was able to make living amends, over time (vs the desperate "I'm sorry!" attempt of early sobriety). Life marches on, until it doesn't.

I've learned this week of two deaths - one an older guy with 44 years sober, and another, a man younger than me who was very active in the recovery community. Again and again, we just never know. 

As I think about several friends who are in big life transitions, I'm reminded that change is the nature of life, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. For countless generations, there were guides to escort Muslims to the hajj in Mecca. and now there is google-maps. "Red Cap" porters at airports or train stations lost their profession to rolling suitcases. A niece lost her graphic arts job to a computer. I read about people worried that their jobs will go away with a shift to green energy. Yeah, probably. and change is the nature of life, whether I like the idea of AI taking over or not.

I can better cope with change when I'm in at least some control of the process. It's been those rug-pulled-out-from-under-me upsets that get me in a tizzy, whether a relationship ending unexpectedly (but do they really?) or an employer going belly-up, or someone dying that I thought would live forever. We used to say, "Go with the flow, man" and that still applies (minus the reefer), though it's sometimes hard for me to initially recognize when I'm swimming upstream. 

Will I ever get to the place where acceptance is my first thought? Where detachment comes naturally? When I intuitively remember to keep my mouth shut (WAIT - why am I talking?). Progress, not perfection, one step at a time. 

What transitions may be happening in your life, from the change of seasons to a change in circumstance? How do you remember to "go with the flow" these days, when you might rather be in charge?

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

 

 

Fears vs Reality

 

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”

 — Edith Wharton

Sometimes I don't even know where the matches are to light the darned candle, but this is a good reminder that actions, not intentions, are my contribution to either the solution or the problem. As Marieanne Williams once wrote, it's when I allow myself to go unconscious with my motives that I get myself in trouble. Know thyself...to thine own self be true... work the Steps...

I was in a meeting this week where the topic veered to "fear," leading me to look up the dictionary meaning of the word: An unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat; a primal emotion that warns us of danger and helps us protect ourselves. I realized, as I listened to others, and reviewed my own internal fears list, that I tend more towards anxiety, defined as a natural human emotion characterized by feelings of unease, worry or fear, often stemming from anticipation of danger or a stressful situation. Bingo, with anticipation the operative word, understanding that my interpretation of "danger" may be a bit skewed. 

This further came to light when I interacted with a friend who recently completed the grand adventure I'll be doing in May. I shared with her that I'm excited and a bit nervous, to which she replied, "Is there anything specific making you nervous?" I had to think about that - what is real and what is fantasy? What is my imagination and what has bearing in reality? Will the airplane fall out of the sky? Probably not, though all the recent air mishaps make me wonder. Will I die on a street corner in a foreign land? Probably not. I can do my best to leave my desk in order, but the rest isn't up to me. (A month or so before my mother died, I asked if she'd mind if I went to visit a friend out-of-state. She said "no" and that if she died while I was away, she wouldn't know the difference anyway.)

It is a good reminder, when in the grip of free-floating anxiety, to take a breath and use the Serenity Prayer, or fear inventory from the Big Book, to hone in on what I might be able to change. If my attitude is all I can actually change, I have the tools to move me in that direction: talking about my secret (fear/anxiety isn't one of the pretty emotions) with a sponsor or trusted other; use the "god box" to help let go; list what concerns me and cross out all the items that are not valid; turn off the news; trust the process, whatever that process may be for any given situation.

And in the meantime, chop wood and carry water. especially when I feel my brain pushing against the constraints of ODAT. Tomorrow will get here soon enough. 

If you were to do a fears inventory today, what would you write? Which of those items are real and which are imagined? How do you move towards acceptance of the moment, and discern the things you cannot change vs those you can?

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

Transitions

 I'm thinking this week about the cycle of life as one friend marks the anniversary of her husband's passing, another hits a sobriety milestone, and yet another says goodbye to a beloved four-legged family member. We spent time with family over a long weekend visit - the patriarch, a frail 95 years old and the youngest in first grade. Watching the three cousins frolic on the beach, I was reminded that some of my happiest memories are of times on the beach with my own cousins, shrieking and jumping and trying to dig our way to the other side of the world. That sometimes seems like only yesterday, and other times like a hazy dream. 

I suppose I'm in the autumn of my life, not quite ready to claim winter, though probably getting close. Years ago, I read a lovely poem where the author wrote with melancholy about spring, knowing that each rotation of the earth brought him closer to his final spring. Not exactly the same, but I do remember during my last year working, thinking, "Oh, this is the last time I'll have to cover during a snowstorm," or "This is the last person I'll hire and train," and then the very final, " This is my last drive to work." A friend who is older than I often points out that life becomes a series of "lasts" - last hike, last making love, last walk, last garden. Maybe, for many, that comes gradually, so gradual that it isn't fully noticed except in retrospect. More reason to pay attention, to big events and small.

On another note, sometimes when I leave my gym, I see a person or two waiting for the pot shop to open, sunglasses on perhaps, even though it is gray morning, sitting in their vehicle or on the nearby apartment steps. I have to laugh with friends - back in our day, we had to sneak around to buy marijuana, from the creepy guy in the park, or the fellows in the corner of the school cafeteria. The times, they have changed, though I do remember sitting in the grocery store parking lot, having been up all night, waiting for 7am to buy more beer, so not much different than those waiting for their pot. I don't know that it still happens, being way too old and very sober, but upon turning 21, we applied for an ID card from the Oregon Liquor Control Commission (OLCC) that was our passport to legal drinking. I hadn't yet learned to drive when I got mine, but I'd certainly learned how to drink, or should I say, knew how to get drunk. 

Rites of passage, initially marking one's expansion in the world (school, driver's license, legal drink, career, maybe children) and at this stage, more of a contraction. Retirement could be either - the ending of one phase and the beginning of another. I'm now convinced that life is a series of transitions - youth to old age, work life to retirement, shifting goals and priorities, knowing that at least some of which lies ahead involves loss. 

But what lies ahead also involves love and laughter. On our visit to family, we also got to spend time with our home-away-from home group family, hitting an AM meeting with coffee after, then crossing a bridge to a nooner and lunch with more friends. It is great seeing people outside the tiny zoom squares, sharing an actual hug, looking each other in the eye to say, "I'm so glad to see you." 

And the beat goes on. If aging is truly a series of "lasts," how will you celebrate and make note of all that is real and good today? What rites of passage lie ahead for you? How do you stay in the moment, while remaining aware of inevitable transitions?

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

Connection

 I have been absolutely filled with gratitude, that heart-swell of positive emotion, having recently been in meetings with those celebrating 13, 22 and 44 years of recovery. At 39, I feel solid in my sobriety, and fortunate to have found my people, my people who are as committed to this way of life as I am. As I sometimes think, it could've gone either way. With the memory of a few people from my treatment days, who felt like they already had one foot out the door mere weeks later, I am grateful that my antennae of discernment pointed me towards those actually working the program. sometimes with grace, sometimes stumbling along..

In those early months, I "connected" so to speak, with a fellow peer. On our second date(ish), I realized he'd started smoking pot. As we drove towards aftercare, I chastised him (ha - no Alanon in the picture yet) telling him he needed to go to meetings, like we'd been taught. "I'm not like you, Jeanine," he countered. My reply was, "I'm not like me either!" I was never a joiner, was introverted and painfully self-conscious, but I bought it when they said, "There are two times to go to a meeting - when you want to and when you don't." No one asked whether I felt like it or not. If I wanted to stay sober, if I wanted to stay alive, I'd follow directions, however awkward that felt. I still follow those directions that are, by this time, seared into my DNA. I don't need three meetings a day anymore (though may get that on a visit coming up that includes visit with friends at different groups), but I do need to stay connected, whether meetings, conversations, emails or walks.

Speaking of Alanon, this past week marks 39 years since my first meeting. There were times I used Alanon for crisis management only, but life, and my feelings about it, seem to flow smoother when I stay connected. While I do sometimes succumb to the "co-dependent crazies," I am definitely not the same person as when I waited at the window for my heroin-addicted lover to come home (with my car), or begged HP, on my knees, for his sobriety that didn't happen. The Alanon journey was a painful one, and can still sometimes be uncomfortable when I catch myself in control mode. One day at a time, I am grateful (there's that word again) to have found my way to the rooms. I used to cringe at the "double-winner" label, thinking, "More like double-loser!" I much prefer the term, "dual-member." Also, many Alanons talk about their "qualifier," the person who's alcoholism qualifies them for Tradition 3, but recently I've heard the term "motivator," which feels both more accurate and gentler.

I'm in the planning stages of a grand adventure in a couple of months, see-sawing between my usual travel fears and excitements. In thinking of Step 2 in Feb, I realized that my insanity these days comes from the very old idea that I'm supposed to "figure it out," that I'm meant to have all the answers. And with Step 3, the reminder that one of my isms is the fear that if I don't know exactly what's next I can't be safe. Au contraire. I'm not going to Outer Mongolia or the Amazon jungles (and even if I were, I'd likely be ok.) 

I used to ask myself on the way to work each morning, "I wonder how my plans will get disrupted today?" knowing something nearly always happened that was out of my control. That applies to vacations, trips to the grocery store, plans with a friend, and yes, grand adventures. In the meantime, on my Monday walk I ran into a couple I used to spend time in meetings with, had a conversation at the gym with a woman I recognized from local government, and sent a text to someone I haven't seen in quite awhile (I'm learning to follow the hunch or urge - if I think of someone, go ahead and reach out). If I tell myself that connections are important, it behooves me to pay attention to where that shows up, like a phone call from someone up north who wanted to purchase some of the Now What workbooks, or another woman at my gym who's been on the adventure I'm planning. It's about the people, sharing a smile or like with the greeter at the grocery store, funny stories about this neighborhood we grew up in. Love is all around. All I need to do is notice.

Where do you feel gratitude today, despite what can feel like a very crazy world? What do you do when fears, old or new, show up? Staying in the moment, are you able to notice love, even if it looks like something else?

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

When the past reaches out

 My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between I occupy myself as best I can.       ~Cary Grant

The above quote from one of my daily readers cracked me up this week, on the heels of a conversation with someone about my often being busy, occupied, in motion. What I would say is that it works for me, and that one of the gifts of recovery really has been the discovery piece of what I do like, how I best operate in the world, etc. Especially in my working days, my motto was "I'd rather be busy than bored," which still generally holds true. And what I would say is that I don't usually post about the times I'm sitting on the couch playing along with Jeopardy on TV, or taking my mid-day nap, so I may not actually be as "busy" as I appear at first glance. I do prefer being engaged. How I remember the months and months with a blank calendar as my world shrunk. Kitchen fridge for a beer, bathroom to shoot up, bedroom to feel safe when the paranoia hit. Life is better now.

One of the things I do is related to my involvement with a local women's running and walking group. We had our first session of the season this past weekend, and as the fates would have it, the newbie I walked alongside shared that she'd just been diagnosed with breast cancer. Talk about being in the right place at the right time! I was able to tell her my experience, as well as offer some reassurance. Higher Powers in the house! The piece of how our experience can benefit others can come both in and out of the rooms.

Over the weekend, a small group went to a 1972 Sing-along at a nearby venue. It was hilarious, with 90% of the attendees in our age range, not really needing the posted lyrics. I'm not a great singer, but I can carry a tune, and there was definitely something nurturing and cathartic about singing at the top of my lungs with a hundred other people, many dressed in tie-die or sequins or fringed vests. Probably like most generations, I'm glad to have grown up when I did. It is reassuring to find community, in sometimes unexpected places.

My dad, who's been gone since 1980, was in my heart this week when I found myself crying as I drove away from the grocery store, missing him and all the conversations we didn't get to have. These days I don't have to dissect the "why" of my feelings - I can acknowledge the sadness and longing, and be grateful that his memory still reaches out. What I can do is be mindful of self-forgiveness for all the years that my work on causes and conditions focused on what was missing. Was I impacted by how his alcoholism affected the family? Yes, and... he was more than an alcoholic. He sobered up the year I started drinking, and I was well into my own disease when he died. I'd give anything to be able to talk with him as a sober adult, but that's not how it works. Instead, I can forgive us both, holding our unskilled communication efforts gently.

 The beat goes on. Spring follows winter, and we're seeing glimmers here in Portland with crocus and hellebore in bloom. One day at a time, I know what I need to know when I need to know it, whether that is related to current situations or my relationship with my past.

How have the self-awareness gifts of recovery shown you who you are? Has any of that changed over time? What about how your experience(s) can benefit others? Where does that show up in your life? Are there past relationships or situations that continue to be your teachers? Where might you further the gentle task of self-forgiveness?

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

Ups and downs

 Ah shoot. I just learned that one of my regular cancer ridergs passed away last weekend. I'd driven her to chemo and radiation appointments for over a year, always impressed by her positive nature and good humor. This week, her son let me know she'd died, in response to my texts attempting to verify this week's ride. Damn it.

I was new-ish to the volunteer position when I started driving Karen E. Usually, the few folks I'd taken to and from appointments shared their excitement at having just two more sessions to go, or three, or today is the last one! I made the rookie mistake of asking Karen how many she had left and she said, "As long as it keeps working. I'm terminal." Man. What do you say to that? Not much. So over the next year, she moved, we drove through the beginning of a snowstorm, and once google maps took us on a convoluted trek through narrow streets in an effort to save five minutes. We laughed together, and talked about the weather, with her sharing bits about living in other places. A couple of months ago, she dropped off the radar. Since she'd shared that the cancer had moved to her brain, I sadly figured she'd moved on to hospice care, but then, her name popped up again and I grabbed the ride. And now she's gone. 

We weren't friends, I didn't know her well, though met her quiet sister who'd help get Karen's walker into the trunk of my car when she couldn't walk safely on her own anymore and have now shared several texts with her son. I'm not surprised that she's gone, not particularly grieving, and yet, there is an empty space. She was a trooper, a good example of carrying on, as well as a reminder that death is inevitable. Sometimes we see it coming and sometimes we don't. 

I'm thinking of all those who come into our lives, into my life (and me into theirs) - those superficial relationships that might be regular but not deep - the barista or the cashier at the grocery store who's line I try to get in, the front desk person at my gym who I see several mornings a week, those neighbors  I share a "Good morning!" with on my walks, and yes, those I drive to their cancer treatment. Superficial connections, but meaningful in their consistency. There used to be a fellow I'd see walking around a nearby park, looking like perhaps he'd had a stoke somewhere along the line. I chatted with him one day, learning he was a veteran, though we didn't get into the source of his shuffle. He was out there nearly every day and then he wasn't. I didn't know him, but I notice that he isn't there anymore. And the beat goes on. 

On Valentine's Day, my spouse said, "Hey, shall we go to the Beacon Group? Today's Step is 4/5 Fear and Sex?" (they do 4/5 resentments separately). I don't usually do morning meetings, but said, "OK" since we were two days into a snow event and I wasn't going out for my usual walk. So I log on, literally three minutes before the start, only to hear that the speaker had a last-minute conflict and couldn't be there, so could someone fill in, like maybe Jeanine?  

I gulped my coffee and said "yes" to this semi-reasonable request (ha ha). Fortunately for me and those listening, this is my area. Relationships are, or rather, have been, my number one offender, the place where I struggled over the years to unravel the effects of growing up with alcoholism, to understand the causes and conditions that had me looking for love in all the wrong places, to finally, finally surrender and get out of my own way. 

It was a small-ish group, mostly female, and I saw lots of head nodding as I described my lack of self worth, thinking I only mattered if "he" thought so. Those years of inventory and therapy and many, many meetings were painful, thinking "This time will be different!" only to eventually end up deciding that I'm just not meant for a long-term relationship. It really was only by leaving the ring that there was enough room to notice my husband when he showed up, totally outside my usual type. Funny how that works. Let go, they always said.  "Let go of what, and how???" I'd cry, never getting an answer that felt do-able.  

And that's the thing - I'm a do-er, task oriented, a concrete thinker. Sitting on a lily pad waiting for enlightenment doesn't work for me. So part of my process was writing a letter to Creator/HP/Universal Truth. I made a collage about the letting go process. I smudged and inventoried and used the Set Aside prayer. It wasn't magic and it wasn't automatic, but eventually, I was able to let go of hopes and dreams, expectations and old ideas, realizing that my life really was perfect just as it was. Perfect then, just about perfect now, once I let go of what I thought of as "happily ever after" on my terms.

And so, the beat does go on. Last week I wrote about visiting my sister-in-law in memory care. This week my brother thinks that might not be a great idea after all. She is still in that place where she knows she's losing her memory, so it might be upsetting if she doesn't recognize me. A delicate dilemma, and his decision, which could change along the way. 

Life on life's terms, as we weave in and out of each other's stories, sometimes long term, sometimes short, sometimes not even knowing each other's last names. An up and down week for me, with the person's death, our favorite neighbors moving, visiting with my brother, cooking our Thanksgiving turkey from the freezer, life on life's terms, big deals and those not so much. 

How has your week been? Big deals or little ones? Anything unexpected that turned out to be a positive? Who do you consider as community, some close and maybe some on the periphery? If a sponsee were to ask, "HOW do I let go?" how would you answer?

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

Emotion + Intellect

 I've mentioned here that I've been using the Daily Stoic, by R. Holiday and S. Hanselman, as one of my morning readers. Someone in a meeting today said that Bill W. was a follower of the Stoics. Google says "Not so," although there is nothing I'm reading that is at odds with program principles.

For example, Feb 5th is titled Steady your impulses, in other words, "think before you act," without allowing feeling and urges to make my decisions. There is a lot of emphasis in the program on feelings, and as I've heard, "Don't bother looking for your feelings - they'll find you!" Very true, along with the importance of that long journey from the head to the heart. However, we were taught in treatment all those years ago, that serenity is about balance. If I'm just operating on emotion, all sorts of impulsive decisions would be made (and have been). Conversely, just coming from what a sponsor calls our "top two inches" i.e. the brain, keeps me detached from my humanity.

Balance. Follow my heart, and check in with my intellect. Trust, but do the footwork. Years ago, an Arab friend shared the proverb, "Trust in God, but tie up your camel." Surrender plus appropriate action, holding still when indicated, but moving along when the path is clear.

I saw the oncologist for my two-year follow-up this week - all clear!. In my volunteer gig, I drive a couple of people who share the same physician, and who are either terminal or in a tougher place that I was. I've realized I carry a bit of survivor's guilt - so very grateful for my early detection journey, with just a hint of "why me?" Kind of like what I hear in meetings - why was I able to get sober and not them? Why indeed? Whenever I hear long-timers speak of higher power(s), someone inevitably talks about the mystery. If I could understand it all, I wouldn't need it. And I can turn gratitude into action, in the rooms and out.

I was talking on the phone with my former brother-in-law (who is still family in my book) earlier in the week and at one point he asked what I'd been doing that day. I had to ask myself, "What have I been doing??" The morning doctor appointment, ate breakfast and went for a four mile walk, did a crossword puzzle, spent a little time at my desk, got my husband off to his afternoon shift, ate lunch, took a nap, 20 minute phone calls with my actual brother and the brother-in-law, checked the weather app several times while watching hail fall from the sky, read some online news... and then it was just about time for dinner! Some days are fascinating and full of activity, and some days just are. I'm no longer beating myself up for a perceived lack of productivity, grateful that post-retirement expectations have caught up with reality.

I talked with my brother about going with him to visit his wife, in a memory care foster home for over a year now. I need to admit that a fair amount of avoidance, worry and selfishness has kept me away thus far, which all boils down to fear. I've dealt with folks in cognitive decline, both in a past job that include a geriatric psychiatric unit, as well as in real life, but not in someone so close. The worry is that my presence might be confusing. She generally knows who my brother is, and her daughter and best friend visit regularly (though the friend has to remind of who she is). Overall, it's self-centered fear - of the unknown, of discomfort.  And, she's my little brother's long-term wife. From what I understand, she is docile in her dementia, unlike another person I'm told has turned to anger and cussing. We just don't know - if we'll be struck with memory loss, and if so, if we'll be nice or mean. And, one day at a time, I know I can walk through any of it, whether my own aging process or someone else's illness. What I know to be true is that I'm not alone in this fear, whether it is friends whose parents or siblings, or perhaps themselves face this dark hallway.

Last night I had a drinking dream for the first time in ages. I was at some fancy hotel or resort, with a bowl of chips and a glass of Jack Daniels (which I've never even tasted). In the dream, I realized I hadn't needed to carry the glass upstairs, because there was a full wet bar in the room, followed by, "Oh my god - what have I done? I just celebrated 39 years sober and now I have to go home and raise my hand as under 30 days?!" In the dream, and after waking, I thought, "This is why people don't come back, or simply say 'F it'" out of embarrassment or shame or guilt. Fortunately it was just a dream, and a good reminder that the monkey who used to be on my back is still within my psyche. 

How do you stay aware of balancing emotion and intellect? What do you do when you sense the "should's" whispering in your ear? How might the inventory process help you understand your motives when you are avoiding a task or conversation?  When is the last time you had a drinking dream? What was the underlying message?

* * * * * * *

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

Thinking vs surrender

In a discussion of Step One, a friend noted that the admission of powerlessness is a gateway to wonder. What a beautiful image. For me, and perhaps most of us, getting to the point of admitting powerlessness is painful, usually involving hitting my head against the illusion of control, so to reimagine that pain as a portal might get me there sooner, or allow me to simply release the idea of needing to get anywhere!

These days my attempts at control can be subtle, like quietly thinking I have the answers or that I need to figure out someone else's solution - Alanon reminds me that making a suggestion more than once is an effort to have things go my way (Annie Lamott describes helping as the sunny side of control). And my stabs at control are often directed at myself, as in thinking I need to know the answer before I've even asked the question, insisting on my timing (now!) rather than trusting the process. And notice how "thinking" is involved in my gyrations. As I've long heard, I no longer have a drinking problem, but I definitely have a thinking problem.

I'd been feeling a bit off, a little flat, and after my own efforts at excavation kept me going in circles, phoned someone I'd consider a spiritual advisor. Once again, it was the act of asking, of reaching for the kit of spiritual tools referenced in the Big Book, that brought relief (along with the good, orderly direction provided by the friend). And, while I feel back on the beam related to my program, there is still a quiet whisper of, "Now what?" I love being retired, I enjoy my volunteer work with the Cancer Society and my seasonal elections gig, my meetings and related service, friend dates and travel plans, time with my dear spouse (who still works). Nothing is missing, per se, and...

I sometimes wonder if it is my creativity that needs attention, but then I wonder if that is a "should" rather than a "want to." Maybe it's merely the mid-winter doldrums when it's too cold (for me) to get into the woods or go for a bike ride. Maybe I need more friend-time, more time in stimulating conversation, more what, I don't know. And, just maybe I'm trying to think my way out of a spiritual dilemma. Maybe it's surrender to not knowing what's next that is the answer. Maybe Step Two, being restored to sanity, comes from talking with like-minded others, journaling, meditation, dropping the rock of wanting answers right now.

I go back to that list of questions I wrote near the end of the calendar year, especially: What truly matters to me, and how does my life reflect that? And along those lines, what makes my heart sing? What tips the internal joy-meter to the positive? I get a weekly email newsletter from Maria Shriver, and this week she referenced Ron Shaich, the founder of Panera Bread, who does a yearly "Pre-mortem" ritual, what we might consider an inventory, of whether intentions match actions, and how will I feel about how I spent my time on earth when the end is near? 

My brother, who is a bit of a curmudgeon (what he'd likely describe himself as a realist) recently commented on the nature of life - how so much of what we do in any given day or week is maintenance: laundry, groceries, feed the animal(s), feed oneself, sleep, rinse and repeat, fit in a couple of TV shows for entertainment, perhaps a walk or conversation, and start all over again the next day with a few vacations in the year, if we're lucky. Or as my favorite quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay says, "It is not true that life is one damn thing after another - it is one damn thing over and over." Frankly, I enjoy a bit of domesticity, stocking the pantry, making a meal to nourish our bodies and our souls, and... once again I ask, "Now what?"

My task is to pay attention, to both my still, small voice - that wisdom within - as well as to conversations and readings and what I hear in meetings. In the meantime, I'll wait for the snow that's been predicted for days now, and make a pot of soup. I'll feed the cats and hit a meeting, and make dinner for my working man. I will practice gratitude, and do my best to stay open to whatever guidance shows up. 

Correction: A friend reminded me that "If things were supposed to be any other way, they'd be different," did not come from one of our treatment counselors, but from a homeless fellow my friend saw in meetings during his first few months sober. I love how seemingly random statements or descriptions stay with me over the years, a good reminder that I never know how my own words may impact someone. Especially in the early days, I saw each meeting as a lifeline, hearing something I needed to keep me on the path for another day or another hour. I think of "my" old timers who were so important back then - Leonard C, Norm B, Ila and so many more. Again and again, grateful to be on this path with you, and with those who came before.

What are some recovery nuggets that you've carried with you over the years? What does surrender feel like to you today? Are there areas where you seek guidance, either from within or from a trusted other? If you took a spot-check pre-mortem inventory today, where are you satisfied and what might need some attention?

* * * * * * *

Is it time for a new year inventory as we're into 2025?

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

Showing up for each other...

 There were six newcomers at my in-person Alanon meeting this past week, six people in various stages of crisis, at the end of their ropes with concerns for spouses or children. Like with AA, we don't get to Alanon because we're having a great day. We get to Alanon because we're worried sick, literally, for a loved one who is drinking themselves to death. We get to Alanon because we're worried and often because we're angry - why can't they see what they're doing to themselves?! How I remember that one. I got clean, damn it. Why won't he?

The despair in the room was almost palpable, with just the tiniest sliver of hope squeaking through the anguish. In both AA and Alanon, I remember feeling like I needed to learn a new language, like there must be some secret they weren't telling me - otherwise how could they be laughing? Don't they know this is serious?

Of course we do. It took quite a while for me to understand that taking care of myself was the best thing, the only thing I could do to confront the disease (my own or someone else's). As I've probably written here before, the meth-cook lover whose addiction sent me to Alanon died of an overdose after I'd been in program (both) for a couple of years. Via my participation in Alanon I'd learned to set boundaries (as in, "No, I won't loan you $50, pick you up at the Justice Center, let you use my car"), and I learned the very painful reality that short of locking him in a room, there was nothing I could do to get him sober. Oh how I wish I could have someone's "ah-ha" moment for them, but that is not how it works.

It remains to be seen if any of these folks return to Alanon. It can take some time to hook in, especially for those who the "god talk" is a turn off. We get to program when we're ready. As we know in AA, the program isn't for those who need it, or even those who want it, but for those who are willing to do the work. And that applies no matter how long I've been coming back.

Later that evening I was in my online home group, with a member celebrating a milestone - one day at a time, sometimes through hell and high water. I very much appreciated witnessing the continuum from shivering denizen earlier in the day (and yes, that very much applies to Alanons) to walking the path of recovery and how we support each other in good times and bad. 

And that has been the theme of all my recent meetings - showing up for each other, and digging deep to implement the principles of the program when it can feel like the earth is shifting beneath our feet. A friend used the phrase, "P.W.A." as a mantra when tempted to let her opinions fly. I was puzzled until I realized she was saying "Pause when agitated." I like it. Sometimes even shorthand can provide a second's slow down. Like we used to say "449!" when needing to accept a situation (3rd edition), anything that turns my brain from obsessive thinking is a good thing. I may return to the storyline, but after holding up the internal STOP sign a few times, I can't help but change my personal disaster-of-the-day channel.

The beat goes on, and here we are, knocking on February's door. How am I working my program today, especially in regard to other people's behavior? Where do I see that my experience can benefit others, both before and after coming in to the rooms, being mindful to say to myself, "Did they ask?" before offering input? How do I find, or maintain, my sense of being centered when I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop, either personally or in the greater world? 

* * *

Is it time for an inventory as we enter 2025?

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

What is true is true

I've been cleaning up my desk area and office this week, feeling slightly overwhelmed and agitated with the amount of clutter, which for me includes the flotsam and jetsam of paper - small notes and post-its with pithy sayings, reminders, various To-Do lists and stacks of scratch paper. It's a new year!

Since the pandemic, I've kept little journals where I make notes during online meetings - it helps me to focus, and is a record of things I want to remember. And... we're now five years post quarantine. In looking over the oldest records, I very quickly saw that most of what I'd jotted down were repeats. Like  an online post recently noted, you can look up 5,000 different inspirational quotes, but that doesn't mean 5,000 different bits of advice. What is true is true. Different people use different turns of a phrase, but the core of the message is the same. Don't take this world personally. Beware of trying to clean up the wreckage of the future. Accept people just as they are (i.e. I am powerless).

I do like these two pieces: When I'm having a bad day I need a meeting. When I'm having a good day, the meeting needs me. And, When my guts are in a knot, it usually means I'm trying to control something (i.e. remember, I am powerless!). And here's one that always makes me pause: If you know the answer, ask a bigger question.

What does that mean? What part of my comfort zone might need expanding? A friend recently suggested an adventure next autumn, with my first thought being, "Too expensive - don't do it." Is that being realistic, or fear?  I slept on it and thought, "Wait a minute. I'm 70 years old. If I don't go see this natural wonder (Monument Valley in Arizona) I probably never will."  I am reasonable with money, and... as I've long asked myself, at the end, will I be happy about extra $ in the bank, or that I got to experience X, Y or Z?  I tend to err on the side of experience (as long as my needs are taken care of, and yes, I'm aware that is a luxury). So, while my first reaction is sometimes a "no!" born of being afraid, I can slow down the process to discern what is really true.

Another saying I like says "nothing grows in my comfort zone."  I am not a physical risk taker. You won't find me on the end of a bungee cord or riding a steep gondola (though some of my antics while under the influence were definitely dangerous). There were many, many emotional risks as I've grown into myself - that first college class, applying for jobs that felt just slightly out of reach, getting married for the second time, doing my best as a stepmom, showing up for my mother and my first husband as they were dying - so many things that initially felt like too much. One day at a time, my fellow travelers show me how to walk through what feels impossible. As I've been told, "You can do hard things," which is a reminder of the hard things I have done.

It goes back to the importance, for me, of repetition and reinforcement. On my own, that scared little voice can take hold. Some folks go to church. I go to meetings (and some do both, or neither). Meetings are where I can take a deep breath, where I hear you walking through the joys and challenges of this life, where a turn of a phrase prompts my own reflection. I go to meetings and I talk with like-minded others. I go to meetings and I read books that inspire. I go to meetings and I have a routine, a practice that works for me. 

A friend speaks to the danger of meeting-based sobriety, so yes it isn't merely sitting in the chair, but rather taking the principles into the world, even if that world is my own home. I was never a Scout of any kind, but I do adhere to the "be prepared" motto.  As I've often said, I love to travel though get a tad nervous when preparing to leave. I have a big trip planned later in Spring, so am practicing the principles by getting my affairs in order, as it were, as in documents organized and all the things someone would need to access were I to die. I know a woman who died while in Bali on vacation, and it was incredibly expensive and complicated to return her remains home. To that end, when I pre-paid my arrangements after my mother died, following her very helpful example, I added a policy that would bring me back to Portland if I meet my end elsewhere. We all likely have a different idea of what being prepared for the end means - this felt important to me. 

And my perspective on what is important doesn't change all that much over time. Sobriety, health, service, friends, family, self-care... the way I've approached them may vary, but what is true is true. I love something from an Alanon reader: What is important is rarely urgent. What is urgent is rarely important. I can use that as a measuring stick when I feel the need to act now!  knowing that what is mine to do will make itself clear. 

I will say that what is true can feel complicated these days. As I catch glimpses of the news on TV at the gym, or what people send me, I feel myself in a mental spin. On my walk this morning, I used a Cognitive Behavioral Therapy tool of naming 5 things I see, 5 things I hear, 5 things I feel in an effort to get back into my body and out of my head. No amount of fretting will change anything. Being centered and clear-headed just might clear the path to hear and implement good, orderly direction. 

Whether you welcome or mourn changes in the world these days, how do you stay aware of your powerlessness while having the courage to know the difference between what you can change and what you can't? What are some healthy risks you've taken, in early recovery or more recently? Do you have a daily routine that helps you find your strength?

* * *

Is it time for an inventory as we enter 2025?

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

Spiritual fitness

 There was a placard at my gym this week listing four main goals of fitness: strength, balance, flexibility, and endurance. Endurance I have in spades. Point me in a direction and I can walk for literally hours. Strength? So-so, but not bad for an old broad. Flexibility and balance are where I need focus. My mom could put her hands flat on the floor into her 80's. Me, well, do my shins count??

It struck me that those four areas of fitness - strength, balance, flexibility and endurance - also apply to life and to recovery. Do I have the strength to follow the path, to keep coming back, to interrupt unhelpful thoughts? Is my life balanced - not always equal time, but a give and take between active and passive, social and solitude? What about flexibility? Am I a "bleeding deacon" or can I go with the flow of new ideas? And endurance. Am I in it for the long haul, or do I have one eye on the door? 

It hit me as I was sharing in one of my home groups this week that the "you either grow or you go" statement from my first sponsor can be seen as a warning (which is how I've viewed it), but just maybe it's an invitation, an invitation to go deeper, to truly listen for the still, small voice of wisdom, that internal knowing that can nudge me one way or another - the Step 10-ish spot check for flexibility, strength, endurance and balance. 

As I'm now well into my 40th year (ha ha) I'm noticing a softening, a leaning towards a more gentle application of the principles. I'm also noticing the "sometimes quickly, sometimes so very slowly." For example, anytime forgiveness has come up as a topic over the years, my mind zeroed in on an incident that happened in 1979 or 80. It was ugly, the person made a non-specific amends years later, but I've long held on to the "How dare they?" energy. Somewhere in the last year or so I had to ask myself, as my brain jumped back to the long ago hurt, whether or not I wanted to be judged by the worst thing I'd ever done (and which of my crummy actions would count as the "worst?") and if I could forgive myself, or outgrow that guilt, perhaps I could do the same for this one nugget of resentment. I didn't do any formal letting go, but the next time I saw this person, realized I was at a place of neutrality, in the moment and not 1980. 

This life lesson probably falls under the "drop the rock" category. As we say in Alanon, "How important is it?" The past is the past is the past. Holding on to an old hurt serves no one, especially if it isn't something I'm willing to discuss with the other person(s) involved (or can't because they're no longer with us). This whole "one day at a time" stuff is making more and more sense as I get older. But how, exactly, do I anchor myself in the here and now rather than the "then" or the "someday?" I've been attempting to watch my thoughts, steering them back to the task at hand when I notice myself in "out-there land." 

It is a discipline, this effort at not following the storyline of "coulda, shoulda, woulda," or, where I'm more likely to go, "Planning-ville." Stay in my hula-hoop, which is right around me as I sit, not out there on the sidewalks of next week or next month.

How might you see yourself in relation to strength, endurance, flexibility and balance? What does the concept of personal or spiritual growth mean to you if the concept of "grow or go" is an invitation? Are there lingering resentments you can release after all this time? What helps you stay in the present moment?

* * *

Is it time for a new year inventory as we enter 2025?

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

Be-ing

 Reflecting on something the New Year's Day speaker I listened to said regarding sponsorship - that at 55 years she doesn't have an official sponsor, but does have people she talks to, aka "trusted others" - it struck me that maybe what I fear as resting on my laurels could very well be serenity. Maybe, much like when I retired from the workforce, I can release the energy of striving, striving, striving - always looking to improve in some form or another. Maybe with long-term sobriety, emotional and physical, I can allow myself some space and grace to simply be. Be, while staying aware of the mental blind spot, that retrogressive groove the Big Book warns about, as in lying to myself or others about my motives, shirking responsibilities, forgetting my primary purpose. One day at a time I can seek counsel as needed, and trust the inner wisdom that has brought me this far.

As I marked my 39th sober-versary last week, I thought about all those who impacted that decision - the good friend (still) who suggested my boyfriend (before he was my kinda-ex) tell my grief therapist that I was shooting up, the cousin who sent me Bible verses, her sister who worked with my kinda-ex  to arrange treatment, and that he didn't give up on me despite my despicable behaviors, and even the meth cook lover who suggested it might not be a bad idea to take a break (and who drove me to treatment and took my car home). And, maybe back then, people closed AA meetings by invoking a moment of silence for the alcoholic who still suffers, and just maybe that energy of love was somewhere in the atmosphere, drawing me in before I even knew I needed to change.

Not everything of course - some things are just plain shitty - but quite often what I think of as negative in the moment turns out to have been the best that could've happened, a stepping stone towards things and situations better for me, like the breakup that felt sudden, the job that ended unexpectedly - so many of those big and small happenings that served to redirect my path. 

It has been the many lessons in letting go that have taken me from victim and blame to acceptance. It was probably a decade before I could admit I couldn't likely have stayed sober had my kinda-ex come back once I went through treatment, and a couple of years after the fact to acknowledge that my then- supervisor was spot on about my abilities and motivations. My initial reaction to change I didn't initiate is generally an "Oh no!" clenching and tightening and trying to hang on to energy that has moved on. I once heard "When the horse is dead, get off of it." Not "try to resuscitate it," but simply let go (ha! simply does not mean easy)

Who knows? I do know that it all, "it" including those who had my best interests at heart, like my bestie who drove my mom to Family Day each week when I was in rehab, like the treatment pals who moved into my house as roommates in those crucial post-treatment months, the old guy at the noon meeting who remembered my name when I came back a second time - it all has worked out. As a treatment counselor used to say, "If things were supposed to be any other way, they'd be different."  And with now plenty of life experience under my belt, I can see, in retrospect, that I'm right where I'm supposed to be and that it is good.

How do you relax into being, conscious, but dropping the rock of condemnation? Who contributed to your getting sober? Have you ever thanked them? What are situations you initially thought were the end of the world that turned out for the best? And even if not "for the best," are there lessons learned? Are there any "dead horses" in your life that need to be left alone?

* * *

Is it time for a new year inventory as we enter 2025?

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

Best wishes for the new year

 A happy new year to all - may 2025 be gentle and sober, whatever life on life's terms brings.

We attended the Year End Roundup this past weekend, in Seaside, Oregon - a small (300 attendees?) conference with great speakers this time around. The opening ceremony was a woman playing a lovely Native American flute. As the haunting notes filled the large meeting room, I closed my eyes and said to myself, "Let me be open to what I need to hear this weekend." Crusty long-timer that I am, I can sometimes go into a meeting or conference thinking I know how it will go, and this time telling myself, "I'm in it for the beach." As fate would have it, the weather was terrible, so I didn't even see the ocean until a short walk during a momentary lull between downpours before we headed home. 

And as we say, "Be careful what you wish for," as I did get a couple of strong messages over the weekend. The details don't really matter, though one definitely involved my overconsumption of sugar since Thanksgiving. As a person in the open Alanon meeting said, "Once you know, you know." Dang it. When telling my story, I've sometimes said that sugar was my first drug of choice, and if that's true, what do I do about it? I'm not radical - I'll have jam on toast for example, but I'm definitely of the "one is too many and a thousand is never enough" category when it comes to candy and desserts. One day at a time, one choice at a time. 

The other subtle whisper had to do with resting on one's laurels. Do I do that? Without being obsessive about self-examination/condemnation, can I take a realistic look at my life and my program? Are there places where I'm just going through the motions? I attend a monthly Step group, but tend to do the reading the day before (or morning of). I do have a Secretary position at a couple of small zoom fellowships, have a couple of sponsees, an Alanon sponsor (dual member),,, On the surface it passes muster, but on the inside, in my heart of hearts, I'm just not sure how engaged I am besides the "suit up and show up" portion. To that end, I've asked another long-timer if she's willing to work through the Steps with me, which feels positive. I do know that I can be hard on myself, sometimes using the "searching and fearless" as a hammer rather than a tool, so will be mindful of wearing the program like a loose garment. (I believe that's a biblical reference, but I relate to the imagery of a comfortable pair of pants rather than a wasitband too tight, an open palm vs a fist).

Earlier today, I attended an online speaker meeting with Lila R, who, with 55 years in program, so often speaks to the long-timer. Today she noted that there isn't much left that she hasn't examined. I can heed that and not go looking under rocks for characteristics real or imagined. What needs my attention will present itself. Am I perfect? Of course not. Do I have a general idea of my ism's? Yeah, pretty much. Can I drop the rock of "not enough-ism?" Maybe. Again, one day at a time, one decision at a time as I continue, now and forever, to strengthen my "pause" muscle. Relieve me of the bondage of self, the bondage of impulsivity, the bondage of future-tripping, of thinking I need to know what's next, of thinking I know what's right for you. 

That sounds worse than it actually is. By and large, life is good today, and it's good today because I've been walking the spiritual path of the 12 Steps for a long time. It is good in its simplicity and relative calm. It is good in that I know, I know who my trusted others are. I know in my bones that I am alcoholic, and I know what works for me (which is pretty much what has worked all along).

Again, a very happy new year to you. What might come up if you ask to hear what you need to hear? Is there anything whispering that you'd just as soon ignore? How might you know if you slip into "resting on your laurels" land? Who holds you accountable (and vice versa)? How do you utilize the Steps and principles as tools and not weapons?

* * *

Is it time for a new year inventory as we enter 2025?

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