Amends

 My mother has been on my heart lately, as in bursting into tears when I talk about her, or describe the time the disease of addiction whispered to me when I was handling her pain meds near the end of her life. Why now, nearly 13 years later? Her birthday is in February, and the anniversary of her passing in October. Why now? Is her spirit trying to tell me something from beyond, or am I just missing my mom?

Many years ago, in one workshop or another (John Bradshaw or something similar), we were instructed to write a letter to ourselves, perhaps with a question, and then reply while writing with our non-dominant hand, with the theory it would allow us to access a different part of the brain - the feeling rather than thinking section. I decided to try that with my mom, writing a short letter asking if there is anything she wants me to know. I attempted to use my left hand, but I'll tell you, as I've gotten older, whatever skill I had in that department is long gone! My mother had beautiful handwriting, so it didn't feel right to scribble. Returning to my right hand, the message I got (from myself or the great beyond) is that grieving has no calendar and isn't limited to specific dates or anniversaries. Touche, Mom. Instead of trying to figure it out (which I'm often reminded is not one of the Steps), I'll simply enjoy the feeling of nearness, even if it means crying. 

I recently read about something called a "wind phone" - installations around the country where an old rotary dial phone is set up where people can dial their loved ones. The phones aren't connected to anything, and obviously, one isn't actually calling the deceased, but the article described the catharsis of dialing the old number and talking to one's person. Yes, definitely woo-woo, and I intend to do it. I so often get the urge to pick up the phone to call her - why not?  (for local people, it is at the Skyline Memorial Cemetery - in other places, look up Wind Phone for an installation near you).

On another note altogether, when newly sober, I struggled with Steps 8 & 9. Not quite, "Ain't it grand, the wind stopped blowing!" but it really did take some years for my part in fractured relationships to become clear. One of those situations was with a woman who'd been a close part of our friend circle - her boyfriend was my boyfriend's best friend, both of them in Portland from the Middle East. Lots of drama I won't go into, ending with me banishing her from our house (oh the hubris). As I made my first go-through of the Steps, I knew she belonged on the list, though couldn't articulate what I needed to make amends for. I decided to get all dolled up and go to where she worked, waltzing in with recovery as my shield to make amends and show her how great I was doing. Fortunately, I ran it by my sponsor, who said a great big "whoa!" and suggested I might want to reach out to see if this woman was interested or willing to see me. So I wrote a letter, no reply, and followed that with an amends letter. Within a few months, I saw her on the street downtown, and in a moment of spiritual inspiration, decided that the best amends I could make was to leave her alone. I've never seen her since, though a few years ago she showed up in a dream - I was genuinely glad to see her and talked with her about the absolute insanity of our past. 

Fast forward to this weekend when in reading the local Sunday paper obituaries, I saw that her younger brother has died. I didn't know him, but recognized the names of the two older siblings, each bartenders at clubs we frequented. Seeing her name in print was a definite jolt, and I must admit that one of my first thoughts was to go to the memorial being held at a local event park. Of course, I won't - how weird would it be to show up, not knowing the brother, solely to see her after 45 years? But, the thought was there. I need to acknowledge that my name hasn't changed and I'm not that hard to find, so will settle into the fact that this still isn't a door that needs to be opened.

A door that doesn't need to be opened, and I have been engaged in a bit of morbid reflection on the selfish, self-centered and entitled person I was back then, and how my actions hurt those I cared about. As I've often said, I cannot un-cheat, un-steal, un-lie but I can live in such a way today that I never hurt anyone in the same way again. I'm glad I haven't totally forgotten the pain of those memories. 

Sometimes amending relationships means staying away, despite my desire for some sort of closure or connection. Working the Steps isn't always neat and tidy. Sometimes Step work is messy or feels incomplete, though that's usually because I'm trying to repair history from my present vantage point. While I don't believe in a higher power pulling strings or arranging the furniture, I do believe that letting go of the illusion of control allows nature to take its course, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly and sometimes not in any way I might've imagined. 

I recently read that the last words of Michelle Obama's mother were, "Wow. This went fast." I shared this with one of my closest friends, and we almost cried in recognition. Wasn't it just last year that we met on your 18th birthday, that we watched the fellas play tennis, danced in the living room? Wasn't it just last week that you drove my mom to family days at treatment, when she asked you, "Do you think she'll make it?" and you said, "Of course she will." Wow. This went fast, and here we are, here I am, 70 years old, with a whole lotta life-on-life's-terms under my belt, and, I'll assume, more on the way until there isn't.

What kind of relationship do you have to your deceased loved ones? How about your relationship to any amends situations that might feel incomplete? How might you experience a sense of closure if you can't see the person, either by their choice, or maybe they've died?  At the end of it all, what would you hope your final words to be? As an exercise in treatment, we'd have clients write their own obituary, focusing on accomplishments and regrets. What might yours say?

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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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. 

Here and Now

 I'm re-reading The Grace in Aging, by Kathleen Dowling Singh, seeing if the pages I marked when I was 60 are still relevant today. Not always, but sometimes when I read spiritual or self-help-ish books, I need to remind myself that I have the benefit of the 12 Steps and years of inventory - much to learn, yes, and I'm not starting from zero.

What did jump out at me was the question, "What is the most meaningful use of this time in my life?" as we, as I, move closer to death. I didn't have children, and my stepdaughter has indicated (at this point anyway) that we may not become grandparents. One of the developmental tasks of later adulthood, besides getting comfortable with loss and grieving, is the whole piece about legacy, which for many has to do with passing on the DNA. (The whole topic of how milestones and markers of adulthood are different for those of us who didn't reproduce was what prompted my Master's thesis).  

I have a small following for this blog, the workbook and my novel, but nothing that will likely be remembered years from now, and isn't that ok? Might the whole idea of leaving a legacy be largely that of the ego, the desire to not be forgotten? My charming brother, when we spoke of not having kids, reminded me that in a generation or two, offspring or not, we'll merely be a photo in an album - "Now what was her name?"

And so what about the here and now? What is the most meaningful us of my time today? Years ago, a friend said that one could do good without being a "do-gooder" (she turned her helper-gene toward our local community radio station). Our program encourages service, which these days I read as at group level (or higher, if that's your thing) but also in the greater world. And, lessons I take from Alanon have to do with not over-extending, not saying "yes" when "no" might be more appropriate, being mindful of balance. 

What if my "legacy" is related to leaving a tidy, decluttered house for whoever has to clean up after me? That's something my mother worried about, and boy, was there some cleaning up to do after 50 years in the same house. I was grateful for the boxes of letters and old photos, to a point, and could see where I got the tendency to stockpile paper products. Not much keeps me up at night, but I do shudder to think that if something happened to both my spouse and myself, said unsentimental brother would hire a dumpster for all those items big and small that might mean something personally, but not really to anyone else. 

Something else Singh reminds me of is that "the moment that changed everything" usually arrives unannounced. I'm thinking of an AA guy, Ronnie, who died a few years ago in an auto accident; another friend whose adult child died suddenly; my husband getting a cancer diagnosis the day after our annual holiday party several years ago... I heard in a meeting long, long ago, "Always be on guard for the unguarded moment." Not walking around with fists clenched and my doctor's office on speed dial, but more about getting/staying centered so that when the unexpected happens, I can return to balance without too much flailing about. 

We had a pleasant enough time at the International, hitting several off-schedule meetings, upset that I couldn't get into a room that had filled up, time with friends from near and far, a chance to practice the principles in the crowd and when my HALTs were out of whack (sometimes gracefully and sometimes not). I loved the Old-Timers meeting - all 12 with over 50 years sober Their shares have me questioning my own dedication. Am I dialing it in, or actively participating? It's one thing to cut myself some slack; another to rest on my laurels. Going back to the "What's the best use of my time" question, who do I want to be in this world as I approach 40 years (!) sobriety?  More will be revealed as I reached out to a potential AA sponsor, and connected with an Alanon newcomer (dual member) this week. Funny, how putting something out to the Universe so often results in a specific reply, not always on my schedule, but the answers are there if I wait, and pay attention.

What is the most meaningful use of your time, right now, today, or in this phase of your life? Are you living your values? What do you think of as your legacy? When you slow down and listen for the still, small voice, what is your inner wisdom telling you?

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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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. 

A day early...

 I'm posting a day early this week, as we're heading up to Vancouver, BC for the AA International Convention. I've been to every once since getting sober: Seattle 1990, San Diego 1995, Minneapolis 2000, Toronto 2005, San Antonio 2010 and Atlanta 2015. Like so many of us, I was ready for Detroit in 2020, but the pandemic had other ideas. My husband and I did visit Intergroup there in 2022 and have the t-shirt to prove it!

We hope to see friends in Vancouver that we usually just see on Zoom. I think it was in Minneapolis where one of the long-timers shared that what kept him coming back was "the love-vibe of the people." I relate to the joy I see on fellow attendee's faces as we make our way through various cities over the years, standing in long lines for coffee, holding hands for the Serenity Prayer with 40-60,000 of my peers. Talk about an infusion! I look forward to workshops and speaker meetings, both AA and Alanon, and simply soaking up the positive energy.

I'm at one of those lulls where I'm evaluating my meeting schedule and life in general, as in what is feeding me and what isn't. I can be very habitual, which isn't a bad thing when related to program, but when I start to feel an internal groan about a particular group, whether related to content or even the drive there, I know it's time to perhaps mix it up, or to take a look at my expectations. Am I looking at what I receive, or what I can pack into the stream of life? For me, meetings need to be a bit of both.  Conferences can be good in that way - a chance to soak in program (and put principles to work with big crowds) and reignite my passion, ODAT.

So, safe travels to all who'll convene in Vancouver, whether you're coming by plane, train or automobile. Hope to see you there! Hope to see you there, and I do understand that conferences are something of a niche within AA. Some like them, some don't. I'm grateful for the "all inclusive" aspect of our 12-Step programs, as in "take what you like and leave the rest."

A friend recently sent me the huge volume, The Writing of the Big Book."  I'm slowly wading my way through, some a bit dry, but some fascinating, especially in the context of there being not much other than lobotomy and the ice bath cure before AA.  It is interesting to read that as the book was being written, Bill W. felt that a person needed a spiritual experience in order to get sober, while Hank P. just as firmly believed that it was sobriety and changed behavior that led to a Higher Power. I used to wonder about that - did "god" bring me to AA, or did AA bring me to "god," back when I wanted to put god in a box of a firm definition. I've always loved my friend's definition of "god as I don't understand it." Indeed. If I could understand the powers in the universe, I would need them. I will say that my ideas about a higher power have shifted and changed many times over the years, and today I'm less inclined to worry about the particulars. To me, HP shows up in the warmth of people in meetings, or the smile shared with a fellow walker on my route, the small acts of kindness I see in my own life or read about in the news (I try to steer myself to positive reports rather than the doom and gloom that sells). As I've read in one publication or another, "God is a feeling, not a thing." 

Whether you're a conference go-er or not, how do you experience the "love vibe of the people" you meet in AA or in the greater world? How do you re-evaluate when life or program feels a bit stale? How would you describe your higher power today, if you were to describe it at all?

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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. Note that I will have a supply with me at the Convention in Vancouver, BC this week

Life on life's terms

 I just spent a few days in Chicago with my good friends and travel buddies, once more recognizing what a gift it is to have compatible travel companions with similar interests, endurance and tastes in coffee and food. Until we meet again...

In the "small world" connections department, I learned while away about a friend whose dementia has increased to the point that she requires 24/7 care. Both her mother and a sister had Alzheimer's, so for years she worried about her own trajectory, and here she is. The only solace, for me, is that she has caring family looking out for her, and before the disease took hold, she had a rich and active life. She and I traveled to China, Ireland, Paris and NYC with other friends, participated in biking weekends and hiking adventures, and countless AA meetings and gatherings. I have no idea if those memories are still with her, but they are with me, and I'll always think of her quirky spirit and sense of humor. And here is yet one more reminder that you just never know.

While away I had a bit of traveler's tummy, so opened up "Pocket Pepto" Bismol (which used to be my morning beverage in the drinking days!). One of the uses is for "upset stomach due to overindulgence in food and drink." Bingo. Why is it so darned easy to "overindulge" while away from home? Well, lack of a kitchen for one, and, for me, a bit of peer pressure/peer enjoyment - I rarely eat ice cream at home, for example. Apparently I'm not alone. A medical email I get regularly just listed "15 healthy foods to eat after a binge." Geez-Louise. Our culture seems to both encourage and chastise over-doing it, at least in the food department, which can be tough for those of us with addictive personalities (as well as slowing metabolisms). And, here I am back home to my usual routines, once more seeing how I only "cheat" on myself when I throw caution to the wind.

The notation of "overindulgence" did make me think of the places where I do, or might, over-do, whether with food or caffeine, television (though I'm not much of a binge watcher), obsessive thinking, staying up later than is good for me... The whole deal about recovery is reining in those "instincts gone awry," which can and have been a problem well into sobriety. One day at a time, I can evaluate my choices, knowing that sometimes, ice cream or cupcakes enjoyed with friends on vacation is a very OK decision, while most time, a piece of fruit serves me better.

Beings as it is June, I've been thinking about Step 6 and those pesky characteristics that can put a wedge between me and others, especially the self-centered fear that triggers my anxiety and attempts to control. At this stage, the effort to control people, places or things is often more subtle than overt, but it's definitely there. How do I continue my attempts to pause, even if I don't necessarily feel agitated or doubtful? How about simply "pause" as a way of being? I used to joke that I should have "pause" tattooed on my inner forearm as a reminder. Do I really need a visual cue, or can I utilize self-discipline? I often hear "Listen to your heart" or "Pay attention to your gut," which implies being quiet enough to hear the still, small voice, which doesn't always happen at the split second I'm being challenged to choose a thoughtful response. I'm not blaring through life like a bumper car, but there are places I can take a look at myself and my behaviors, which is the whole point of Steps 6,7 and 10. I'm so glad that recovery is an ongoing process, and thus I say, "Onward!"

Are there places you overindulge that would be better served by restraint? How do you practice self-discipline without being rigid? How do you apply Step 6 and 7 in your life as a person with long-term recovery?

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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. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

 

What do I truly want?

 I just read a book review that started with "What do I truly want?", a guide for those who might be in jobs or relationships that don't make their heart sing, or otherwise feel at a stalemate. What do I truly want? What indeed?

I want peace on earth, goodwill towards all living creatures. I want the US government to make good on treaties signed with Native American peoples under duress. I want to feel proud of my country, my state, my city. I want to know that differences of opinion about our country, our state, or our city doesn't mean we can't be friends or have civil conversations. I want everyone, everywhere to be able to go to sleep at night without fear and with a full belly. I want glaciers to stop melting. I want business and political leaders to put people and planet before profits.

I want our zucchini plants to produce this year (why am I the only person I know who can't grow zucchini?!). I want the new neighbors across the street to be friendly and the young people next door to be quiet at night. I want my baby brother to get some sort of cosmic gold star for being so loyal to his wife as her dementia worsens. I want all those I drive to their radiation and chemo appointments to sail through treatment with positive outcomes. I want the laundry to fold itself. I want my parents to know that I love them and I'm sorry that in the years of "recovery/discovery" I blamed them for my today's woes. 

I want to live to be a healthy 100, ODAT. I want to grow old with my spouse. I want my stepdaughter's dreams to come true, even the ones she doesn't know yet. I want the new woman in our meeting this week to keep coming back, to catch the fire that is recovery. I want to see the world - not all of it, but those places that whisper to me, especially those that say, "Please come back."

I want to be consistently confident in my abilities - to navigate in new cities and countries, to know when to speak and when to not. How to both enjoy the ice cream and say "no" to food I that doesn't actually feed me. I want to go to sleep at night knowing I did my reasonable best, whether that was out and about, or reading an engaging book, and if I didn't do my best, that I made amends where needed. And at the end of it all, I want to rest easy, knowing I fully participated in my life.

This list shifts and changes over time, sometimes day-to-day, but I want to stay tuned to my joy-meter - what makes my heart sing. Obviously, not every task or every situation calls for bells ringing, but on the whole, I seek contentment and the ability to pay attention when that feels missing.

Something I've realized this past week is that I haven't yet connected to being 70. Someone was saying, "My 30's were great," to which I added, "The 40's and 50's were good too. So are the 60's," catching myself on the "are" great vs "were" great. I am no longer in my 60's and that reality hasn't quite caught up to my psyche. But then again, what is "70" supposed to feel like (or 50's or 60's for that matter)? My mother at 70 seemed old. while my father-in-law in his 80's seemed young. Does it really matter how I feel about my age? I certainly don't fight it. I'm semi-amused at having grown old, though I've been told I don't act my age (again, whatever that means). ODAT I can focus on the here and now, releasing labels and "should's" as I go along. Sure, I've got a bit of arthritis in my hands, and yeah, my knees are sometimes creaky, but I'm of the "use it or lose it" mindset, so I'll keep using it until I can't anymore.

Along those lines, I'm on a quick adventure to Chicago with my travel buddies - a baseball game (Go Cubs!) and the Institute of Art on the docket, exploring a city I haven't been to in decades, with someone who grew up there. This week marks the 5th anniversary of retirement. Will my months and years always be filled with travel? Probably not, but this year I'm enjoying the heck out of it. And while too often these days it feels like the world is going crazy, I do my best to take a deep breath and be part of the solution where I may.

What is on your list, today, of "What I truly want..."?  What makes your heart sing in the here-and-now? If you're retired, is it turning out how you'd hoped? If working, what do you look forward to in your retirement years? Does your inner life match your physical age? How has it felt to hit those milestone years?

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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. Note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

To thine own self, be true

 I attended a thought-provoking meeting last week, on the topic of "To thine own self be true," a quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet that has been adopted and printed on many AA anniversary medallions. The full quote ends with "And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." So, honesty with myself, first and foremost, and if I'm honest with myself, I can't very well be dishonest with you - if I want to sleep at night.

Neither my spouse or I shared in the meeting, so we had our own "meeting after the meeting," discussing what was triggered for us. Like several in the group, I had no idea what "self" I was to be true to when I first got sober. Many years prior, the meth cook boyfriend had described me as practical. I am very practical, but at the time, hearing that felt foreign. I had little connection to my own spirit. I may have thought I was being true to myself, doing what I wanted when I wanted, but in reality, I was blowing in the wind. 

Our discussion circled around to "the road gets narrower," thinking that perhaps that's because the path is more clearly defined over time. I no longer have to stop and ask myself whether a certain behavior or action is right or wrong. I often go back to Marieanne Williamson's statement that I get myself in trouble when I allow myself to go unconscious with my motives. That happened a lot before getting sober, and sometimes after, but these days rarely comes up. I know myself today, I trust my gut, and I surround myself with people who live with integrity. 

My spouse, a night owl, has, for several years, worked a modified swing shift, which is in keeping with his internal time clock. This summer, he's going in before dawn, the prize being a three-day weekend. Talk about an adjustment, much easier for this early bird than for him. The other day, I'd walked to and from the gym, watered the garden, fixed breakfast, and checked email- all before 8am. I think about the decades I got up at 4:15am in order to run 4-5 miles before work. It took a while after retiring to learn to sleep in just a bit, and that it's OK to wait until the sun is up before walking. It's been 5 years ago this week that I left my job, and I don't regret a second of it. Bored? Never. When did I have time to work?!  But I'm thinking of flexibility during this time of household transition, and how grateful I am, now and always, for the tools of Honesty, Open-mindedness and Willingness (and naps!) 

Speaking of program tools, yesterday was Founder's Day, counted as Dr. Bob's sober date. I am forever grateful for this chance meeting that might've gone any other way if Bob had said "No!" to the proposed conversation with a stranger, or if no one had answered the phone when Bill called looking for someone to work with in order to avoid the temptation of the hotel bar. Chance encounters, random conversations, a left turn or right - it goes back to those monumental situations or events I wrote about last week. This one was definitely monumental, for me and countless others.

Genius musician Sly Stone died this week, he of the soundtrack of my life. He struggled mightily with addiction - oh how terrible the 70's and 80's were for those of us with the disease of addiction, especially those with vast sums of money and lackeys at their beck and call. I was so very happy to read in his autobiography that he'd been clean and sober the last 8-plus years. I was always told, "where there's life, there's hope," meaning it's never too late to find recovery. And as I watch icons and idols age and die, I am grateful for how their talents enriched my life.   

What does "To thine own self be true" mean to you? How has honesty with self and others become part of your life? How do you react or respond to change, whether your choice or imposed?

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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. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

Goodbyes...

 This past week, our monthly Cabal gathered to honor the memory of our friend who'd recently passed, sharing sweet memories with his sister. It is sort of a fluke that I even met his sister, having connected with her Instagram profile without knowing who she was, then seeing her notice of our friend's death. There was no formal service - a lot of water had passed under that bridge - but it felt right to sit in our sacred circle and share stories of laughter and love. We all expressed gratitude for the sense of closure it brought.

My dear father, very much an introvert, specifically did not want any kind of gathering or service when he died, and unfortunately, we followed his wishes. Unfortunately, because we had no formal avenue to process our feelings or for his friends to process theirs (other than me in therapy, three years later). This was before hospice became a thing, so there was just Mom and me and our tears, and my brother closing himself off, and me, drinking myself into a stupor.

Rites and rituals around death are not for the dearly departed. There is a reason all cultures in all times have ceremonies and processes around death. Some may seem minimalistic and some over the top, but we humans crave a way to say "goodbye." In the old days, part of the ritual was spending time with the body, evidence that this person is no longer in their mortal shell. These days, with death having become a business, and so many choosing cremation, that piece has shifted, though I will say that it was good and right that we sat with my mother's body, in her bed, before she was taken away. There was some sort of psychic shift that took place, recognizing that whatever energy it was that made her my mother was no longer there. 

But back to my friend - it felt good to share funny stories from early sobriety, the dances and warm hugs and deep conversations, and for his sister to hear how much he meant to us. To my friends and family who say they don't want "anything" when they die, I say "Fie to you!" You'll be gone, and if your belief that there is nothing afterwards is true, you won't know one way or the other. 

Over the weekend, our bi-monthly cousin's brunch gathered, our first since the eldest of one family passed last month, and included a couple of folks who don't usually attend. So yes, get together to grieve when I'm gone, but more importantly, let's spend time while we're all still here. I don't always say, "I love you," to those that I do, but "Please, join us," or "It's so good to see you," or "Here, sit next to me," all suffice. It felt good to raise a toast to all those not there, including all our parents and too many siblings, each one contributing in some way to who we are today.

And so the beat goes on, as summer approaches. Our neighbor/friends across the street are moving, with an anticipated closing of the house sale at the end of the month (with me being encouraged to pick berries in their backyard in the meantime). A couple of friends and I will go for a walk in the woods tomorrow, before I meet with my grade school pals for our monthly date. And...drumroll... today is the 14th anniversary of our wedding! I look at those photos, making note of the few who are no longer with us, as well as how our social life has changed with covid, retirement, and the passage of time. As I told someone soon after our vows, marriage is way more fun than I'd anticipated. Being older, and having program as our base, makes all the difference - one day at a time.

Have you thought ahead to what you'd like to happen after you die? Does anyone else know your wishes? Thinking of friends and/or family that you may see only occasionally, is there anyone who'd benefit from knowing what they mean to you? How do you envision your summer unfolding (or winter, if you're in the southern hemisphere)?

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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. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

Monumental?

 First of all, huge apologies to those of you who've been leaving comments on these posts. My gmail account hides those comments in a different email folder from regular mail. Sigh. Now that I know where to look, I say, "Thank you," and "Sorry." I truly appreciate the interactions, no matter how untimely I've been!

So after attempting to process my post-Camino feelings, someone recommended a book called, appropriately, Returning from Camino, which I purchased, along with a journal with prompts. When in doubt, ask others for their advice and input, and then heed it! What the book suggests is that coming home is as much a part of the Camino as leaving, and to be gentle with oneself as I reacclimate to the day-to-day.

The journal is good. I've been spending time with it daily, while the experience is still fresh in my mind and heart. One thing it has asked in a couple of different ways is "What was a monumental experience?" I have several answers for that, including my friend's injury as well as my entering the cathedral square. The question made me think of my life in general - what has been monumental? (Maybe more accurately would be what hasn't been monumental!)

My father's death at age 56 from tobacco related cancer was monumental, taking years to process. Visiting the pyramids in Egypt was monumental. Meeting the meth cook and the resulting hitting rock bottom was monumental, as was crossing the threshold into treatment and recovery. The pain of break-up(s) felt monumental, leading to walking down the aisle with a good man.

What struck me, of course, is that "monumental" can be either a negative or a positive with the definition of "large, impressive in extent...marking a turning point or a major accomplishment." I don't think that we AA's and Alanons have a market on life-changing experiences, but we are definitely able to define a "before" and "after," for events that changed the course of our lives. 

I don't want to use the word lightly, however. Yes, the Camino was a wonderful experience, "and" in the grand scheme of things, I don't feel like I've changed like some foretold, as in, "You won't be the same," or "The Camino will change your life."  I made some new friends and solidified an inner strength I may have doubted, as well as forging a new relationship to "trust the process," and my life doesn't need changing, unlike those I met who walked seeking discernment regarding career or relationship issues.

I do have to chuckle at myself with the "trust the process," something I've struggled with since first coming into recovery. Here I am, 70 years old, 39-plus years sober, and I still have moments of questioning. I can chastise myself with, "This again?!" or can recognize that each time my old fears and desire to control gets triggered, I move a little closer to acceptance and letting go. 

While listening to the oldies station in the car this week, "the" song played, the one of wishful thinking that the cute boy would ask me to dance in 7th grade. I found myself a bit teary for the girl who, so young, looked outside myself for something to make me feel better on the inside. The cute boy, the perfect outfit, the correct weight or right makeup... definitely a product of my generation and my upbringing. I know, I know - if I'd known better, I would've done better. I just wish I'd known better a bit sooner. And, as a old(er) woman, I can give thanks for all that has brought me to this moment of relative peace - chasing a crush, saying "yes" when "no" might've been a better choice, turning left when I should've turned right... As the old t-shirt said, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood," which depends on my perspective. I can focus on the fun and freedom I enjoyed as a kid, or on the lack of direction and supervision. I can look at various choices as steppingstones, or roadblocks. I can remember that right here, right now, all is more than ok.

What stands out as monumental in your life, either before or after recovery? Has your relationship to your story changed over time?  What are events you may have viewed as tragic that you now see as gifts?

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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. And note that I will have a supply with me at the AA International Convention in Vancouver, BC in July. Can't wait!

settling in...

 Each day back I feel more and more tethered to home, but jet lag is real (!) and as my first sponsor used to tell me, "Re-entry is tough," encouraging me to give myself the space to reacclimate after a trip, big or small. I've been home now one week, tripping just a bit thinking about walking through quaint villages and rainy eucalyptus forests and now I'm at the grocery store. Did I leave some of my spirit on the Camino? Maybe, and I do hope I brought some Camino spirit with me - the energy of "go with the flow," "surrender to the moment," and most important, "one day at a time."

ODAT seemed both obvious and out of reach when I first came into the rooms, with future tripping a special skill that has been hard to release. The longer I'm in recovery, the more real "we just have today" gets - we really, truly just have the moment in front of us, and like I learned with my friend's injury, reality can turn on a dime. 

Attending my regular walking group over the weekend, it hit me that my mojo was gone. I was feeling a bit flat. After a year of hyper-focus on preparation - emotional, physical, material - being done has me a bit empty. Mentioning that to my adopted crew, most of who are younger, two said, "That just means you need to start planning your next adventure!" Sure, and jumping right into something else when I'm barely done with this thing feels like old behavior. Maybe, just maybe, I need to hold still and allow lessons from the Camino to arise in their own time.

A friend and I have often talked about the time delay between outer circumstance and inner feelings. Someone dies, a job ends unexpectedly, one moves, or a good friend does, retirement. My psyche tends to hold on to the former reality while I acclimate to a situation. It seems to be about letting go - to old ideas, including my desire for consistency, as well as relaxing into the present. For me, today, that means acknowledging the big deal of covering 160 miles in 12 days as well as putting pen to paper regarding what came up during the contemplative stretches of the walk. 

One of my old ideas, rooted in experience, is that I don't have a good sense of direction. That has proven to be true, though here I sit at my desk, never having gotten so lost I didn't get home, but how much of that belief is actually true and how much feeds a self-defeating fear? What I learned on the Camino is that I could utilize tools (talking with English speaking teenagers, taking a photo of the streetcorner where I need to turn to get back to my hotel, asking for help) whereas in my drinking days I might've just stayed in rather than brave the unknown. I also drew on tried and true recovery skills, as in leaving a group dinner early as the wine and liquor flowed and making sure I kept hold of my water glass lest it be topped off with white wine. I never felt particularly uncomfortable around alcohol, but mindful and aware of my surroundings, grateful for years of practice.

So, last week I was there and this week I'm here, and "wherever you go, there you are." I am aware of and grateful for the privilege that lets me go off on a grand adventure, and incredibly grateful, always, that I didn't die at the end of a syringe or behind the wheel while drunk. As I settle back into my life of relative simplicity, I am aware of the sweetness of neighborhood spring blooms, our cats' purrs, dinner with my dear spouse, my regular meetings. Life is good.

Has the truth of ODAT shifted for you over your years of sobriety? What gifts might you be taking for granted if you don't stop to notice? If you are experiencing any sort of transition, how do you allow your emotions to catch up with the new reality? What old ideas continue to pop up for you? Are they real, or a habit?

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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.

in transit

As i started this entry, I was in the airport in Lisbon on my way to see good friends before the final leg home, drinking my 1st Starbucks in over 2 weeks. The coffee was too strong and the cookie slightly stale, but it felt like home, which really is one of my favorite parts of going away. 

I was told, " the Camino will carry you," and that was certainly true as I got up day after day to pound out 8, 13 or 15 miles.  But I will say that I was tired the final 2 days, facing each steep hill with, "Really?!" When I was getting the MRI at the beginning of my breast cancer diagnosis,  I was given a painted rock that says, "You are stronger than you think." It proved true then in the emotional department,  and true physically these last 2 weeks, much of which consisted of technical paths (steep, rocky, wet with rain). One foot in front of the other, stopping to catch my breath as needed.

No one ever did recognize the AA patch on my backpack, though near the end of the journey,  one of my new companions asked why I don't drink. I gave the very condensed version of my story, only to learn that her father and uncle died as the result of alcoholism.  We are everywhere,  directly or indirectly, in recovery or far from it. 

I'm not sure of your experience,  but once learning I'm sober, people ask if I'm bothered that they order a drink. I can appreciate their sensitivity,  but no. I truly have reached that place of neutrality, at least for today. And I do understand that lifting of the compulsion is a gift denied many. 

Stopping in DC to visit good friends,  I also had the opportunity to connect with a couple of other friends from my online groups and to attend an in-person meeting. I love connections over the years and over the miles. I went to treatment to get the heat off and stop hurting, with absolutely no idea that I'd end up with lifelong friends, an education, a career I enjoyed, a strong marriage - essentially the "keys of the kingdom."

And now, re-entry, as I do my best to remain mindful of Camino energy, taking each day as it comes. I see some inventory in my future as I further process all that occurred these past few weeks, continuing to ask myself, "Are you a tourist or a pilgrim?" 

How would describe the gifts of recovery,  your keys of the kingdom? Have there been times that "You are stronger than you think" has played out in your life? How do the tools of recovery help you remember that?

flexibility

Here I am with now two more days of walking followed by three nights in Santiago before heading back to the US. It has definitely been an adventure of putting one foot in front of the other with some fun and inspiring conversations along the way with people I will likely never see again. I am grateful for this common bond, however temporary.

I am the kind of person who likes to know the lessons of life while I am still in the middle of class. Years ago, when applying for my Master's program, the advisor said that many schools will give you a set plan but their idea was to give the individual a map to find our own way. That is kind of like the Camino, although we do have specific instructions which may or may not be factual, as a couple of times we've ended up on a tougher, hillier path than expected. Oh well, here we are today. Before leaving home, I realized part of my lessons had to do with trust, as in trust myself, and trust the planning. Along the way,  I've come to understand my state of mind is about surrendering to the moment, whether raining or hot, power outage or hungry - whatever the day may bring. For me, also, a lesson has been around flexibility. On Saturday,  with a long 18 miler planned and rain in the forecast, we decided to skip the walk and take transport to the next town. A friend asked, "Isn't that cheating?" but it really is "your Camino,  your way." There is a requirement that one must walk the last 100 km into Santiago to earn the official completion certificate, and that is the plan, one step at a time. 

We plan, and the gods laugh, with my companion falling over the weekend, cutting their Camino short. One just never knows. I have now had a ride in the back of an ambulance for the 1st time, and have seen the workings of a Spanish ER, grateful for kindness and good care. The gods laugh, indeed as this turn of events was certainly not anticipated. 

And the beat goes on. After discussion, it was decided I would carry on, completing in spirit for both of us. Me, who loves adventure but rarely, rarely travels alone, now on my own, fears of getting lost swirling in my brain. But, as Mr Rogers would've said, "Look for the helpers." A conversation at breakfast resulted in my being invited to tag along with a group of delightful folks from around the globe, and so, I carry on. 

One of my new friends suggests setting a word of intention for the day.  Yesterday I chose "bravery." She pointed out that bravery is on the continuum with fear - if I didn't have fear, there'd be no need to be brave. Today my intention was "endurance."

And so, I've walked up very steep coastal hills and wooded paths with new friends,  and have wandered in cities on my own for laundry and food, facing my fear of getting lost. And wouldn't you know it, even with Google maps, I did get lost (darned round-abouts) and a very kind senora walked me to my hotel with a pilgrim blessing. Helpers abound.

People on the Way aren't necessarily talking about their reasons for walking,  but the underlying question is, "Am I a tourist or a pilgrim?" A little of both, I'd say, as I've thoroughly enjoyed the sights as well as appreciating contemplative moments. So, my life lessons this week have been around trust, always, and about asking for and accepting help. Onward!

How hard or easy is it for you to ask for help? Do you recognize helpers when they appear? How do you integrate your spiritual life with the everyday, and are they actually separate?

on the path

After a couple of days to acclimate, we started walking on Monday, 11 days, 160 miles to Santiago de Compostela.

In talking with someone before leaving home, they shared their story of traveling with an AA symbol on their backpack, and all the fun and meaningful conversations it prompted along the way. So, I did the same, not at all shy about my recovery, knowing that, too, is a gift of long-term sobriety. (When I shared my plan with a newcomer, she was thinking that AA is something to hide. Not anymore, if it ever was for me). 

So, staying in the moment, literally one foot in front of the other, with the only concern of the day is where and what to eat, following the route markers, As much as I truly love my domestic life of home and hearth, I've been looking forward to this extended, walking retreat. I don't do that often enough - take time away from the daily routines. My spouse and I are conference go-ers, but I'm more thinking of time in nature, with blocks set aside for solitude. Of course, I could do that at home, but there is something to be said for intentionally taking an official break.

As of today no one has noticed or commented on the 12-step patch on my backpack, but I am having conversations with lots of people along the way. Whether English speaking or not we are on the same path.

And as we've read,  "Lack of power, that was our dilemma" as we were caught in the several nations power outage on Monday. It didn't impact us too much (no elevator at the day's hotel) and people were in good humor. We were all in it together, and such an example of not being in control. 

A very soggy walk today, yet another reminder to surrender to the moment (& grateful for all my running and walking in rainy Portland). So, Onward, odat!

Where has powerlessness shown up in your life this week? How do you put one foot in front of the other,  on the easy path or the tougher?

I'm walking here...

Rumi says, "As you start to walk on the way, the way appears."  Clarity doesn't come before action. It comes from action.

I've needed that message recently - the ongoing effort to stay in the moment. I leave this week to walk the Portuguese Coastal Route of the Camino de Santiago, a grand adventure and spiritual quest. I feel physically ready, with LOTS of walking under my belt these past few months, and am being conscious of being spiritually ready to walk through (literally) whatever the path may bring, knowing that there may be tears and there may be joy, frustrations and elations, literally one step at a time.

My prep included talking with two program friends who've recently completed the same trek, as well as following a social media group of women getting ready to set out. with a lot of attention in that group on what to carry, down to minutia of travel size shampoo, etc. My friends had some welcome advice and suggestions, but as one of the social network people wrote, "Just walk." I probably won't get lost on a marked path, and if I do, "Oh well" I can reset (heck, I get lost when walking in my own city, so I'm very accustomed to "Did I miss the turn?") 

And while it seems like every third person I've talked to has either done it, or knows someone who has, I will have my own experience. Kind of like early recovery when the old-timers would say, "You're right where you're supposed to be," sharing markers for 30, 60, 90 days and beyond. There are markers and maps for this phase of my spiritual development, and... I will know what I need to know, when I need to know it.

Somewhere in the last few months, someone posted on the Camino site that they'd realized the journey had already started while putting in the miles at home, thinking about their "why." Years ago, I heard circuit speaker, Pat Y, talk about her Camino, and that after all her preparation, she got there and took a nasty spill three or four days in, so couldn't finish. I asked about feeling disappointed, but she said, "No, not really," recognizing that the planning and preparation was her journey. I get that, especially when starting from zero, working up to six to eighteen miles per day. And, I can stay mindful of not getting cocky, Ms Marathon runner/walker that I am, or rather was, emphasis on "was." Like sobriety, my fitness (physical or spiritual) today isn't based on what I did five or ten years ago, but on what I am doing today. 

And so, off we go, a friend and I, into the wild, blue yonder. My intention is to post while away, though perhaps short and sweet. In any event, I will carry you in my heart. Please keep me in yours. 

How would you describe your current path? How might you undertake a spiritual quest, on an actual journey or in your own backyard?

*Note that sales of the Now What workbook are on temporary hold until I return home

Spiritual awareness

In a recent meeting, I found myself a little teary as the lead spoke to wanting a spiritual experience. Me too, as I think of my upcoming grand adventure, while realizing I can't simply conjure up an" ah-ha" moment. As I walked home from the group, through a gloriously blooming old Portland neighborhood, resplendent with crimson rhododendrons, tulips of all colors, lilacs and more, I realized this is the spiritual experience.  It's not like "life" is over here on the left and the spiritual experience is here on the right - it's all spiritual, if I but pay attention to the beauty, the smile, the potholes and the mud all around. 

And maybe it's spiritual awareness. I've definitely had moments over the years of the brain-exploding surrender, usually following inventory, tears and mental exhaustion, but maybe, just maybe the conscious contact we're encouraged to pursue is simply paying attention to the moment. I keep repeating that theme because I need to repeat that theme! Will it ever be automatic? Not sure, but that's why I keep coming back.

I believe it was Richard Rohr who wrote, "God comes to you disguised as your life." Always, read that "g" word as whatever the concept does or doesn't mean to you. What I read in that is that life is life, and in reality, there is no separation from the head and the heart (though I may erect internal walls), no difference between "the program" and the "spiritual part." Compartmentalizing was helpful during my working years, doing my best to leave work at work when I left for the day, but isn't necessarily a positive in general. I like to think I present the same in whatever sphere I'm in (though I really need to work on my cussing habit). Is that a gift of long-term sobriety? Of getting older? Maybe.

And I am getting older, though sometimes need reminding. In signing up for an upcoming half-marathon, I hesitated at the line marked "Age" with the weird sensation of not quite knowing what to write. I know I'm not 60, but 70 just didn't feel like the correct number. I joked with the women at the counter that I don't act my age, but I certainly don't feel like what I thought 70 would feel like, carrying around stereotypes of what it means to be old. The discovery continues. 

I attended my former home group a week ago, newly housed at a local club after its long-time home closed at the beginning of the pandemic, and after being online for the duration. Having gotten very comfortable with conveniently rolling into my office and getting online, I don't know that I'll re-up my membership, but it was good to see people in person who I haven't for some time. We've aged. 

We've aged, and the message is the same, whether online, in person, or in something I read (program related or otherwise). I'm noticing that as I've fully settled in to retirement, my daily habits have changed, which is to be expected. For the most part, I feel at peace with life, despite momentary blips of self-centered fears. I'm told that my cousin's last words were, "I'm not afraid to die. I've had a good life. I'm tired of the bullshit." Not sure which bullshit she was referring to (I could start a list), but the "not afraid" and feeling one has had a good life are all I could hope for at the end. When I've told a good friend about someone being near the end of the journey, he's known to say, "I hope they feel they've had a good life." Indeed. My first husband wondered if he shoulda/coulda/woulda experienced more, which makes me sad. As my current spouse's sponsor told him several years before he died, "Don't wait for a diagnosis to take care of yourself." He meant physically, but I'd say emotionally and spiritually as well. 

After my statement about the road getting narrow, a friend pointed out that, yes, the road gets narrower, but the horizons get broader (thanks PB). Exhaling into that image that definitely rings true. Onward!

What comes to mind, or to your heart, with the terms "spiritual experience" or "spiritual awareness?" How might those be different, or the same? What do you hope your last words would be? Do you feel you've had a good life thus far? How are you taking care of yourself, physically, emotionally and/or spiritually?

*Note that the Now What workbook sales are on a break until I return from my trip. 

Be here now

 A friend who winters in a warmer climate got home recently, noting that with packing done, the task at hand was to stay in the moment while awaiting their travel day. Another friend has given notice at work, now in that short-timer place of staying responsible but so wanting to be done, with two other friends on the verge of changing cities. I'm just about ready for my grand adventure, scanning the house for whatever small projects I can use to distract myself until it is time to board a plane. As a writer friend noted, with their own homecoming, "no-longer-there-but-not-yet-here-either." I'd amend that to not-there-yet, but mentally already gone.

Those liminal spaces, whether in between jobs, the ending of a relationship that is on its last legs (admitted or not), the time just after someone dies when it can feel like I, the living one, have one foot in both worlds, taking a trip/not taking a trip...can feel like a case of suspended animation. I'm generally one who prefers to forge ahead, uncomfortable with the feeling of being nowhere, unmoored, waiting., though one of my Alanon readers reminds me that "waiting is an action." 

Being mindful, in the moment, has rarely been my strength, packing for a trip while simultaneously making a To-Do list for my return, thinking about one thing while doing another. This whole one-day-at-a-time thing is a discipline. I suppose that's why it's advised to practice the principles, progress not perfection. Someone recently shared their perspective on living the program rather than working it. I like that. Working the program can make it sound too much like a task to complete, whereas living the principles implies a gentle flow, one day to the next, one decision or one action leading to another. That idea of the road getting narrower as we gain sobriety  used to scare me - I'm afraid of heights, and pictured a narrow, winding mountain road. Maybe the "narrower" could mean that there aren't as many choices - do the right thing or the sketchy one? That really is no longer an issue.

As I was reminded in a recent meeting, when I find myself in a conundrum, around future tripping or otherwise, I can ask myself, "Where is HP in this?" (however you do or don't define that). Am I obsessing when I'd be better served to simply take a breath, or pay attention to the task at hand? I try to do that when out walking, bringing my attention to spring's blossoms when I catch myself having gone several blocks without noticing the world around me. I am a feeler and a thinker. Can I also be an observer?

As I was in the midst of writing this post, I found out that a good friend died, a friend who'd suffered a mental health crisis several years ago and was never able to make it back. Several of us tried to be there for him, but he drifted further and further away. A tragic loss of a really good man.

As I was processing that loss, I got the call that my eldest cousin was dying, and a few hours later, that she was gone, with her two children and one of her sisters at her side. I'm only on the periphery of the inner sanctum, and hadn't known she was physically ill, so this, too, comes as a shock. She was six years older, a chasm when we were kids, but of shrinking importance as we got older, and from my perspective today, at her 76 years old, too young to go. But who am I to say? What I can say, and do say over and over, is that you just never know. 

And so what we do is come together, in small groups, online or on the phone, or with social media as it was meant to be used, to connect and share our grief, with family and friends spread far and wide. I'm feeling a little numb with these two losses, the cousin who remembers our grandmother (I was only 5 when she died), and the friend of AA dance parties and long conversations. Today I can hold sadness and gratitude in the palm of my hand, grief and faith in the cycle of life and death, over and over again. 

How do you live the program principles today? Again and always, how do you bring yourself back to the present moment if you find your thoughts drifting to either the past or the future? When something unexpected happens, how do you take that cosmic breath of acceptance?

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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 folk

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's, 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?

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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.