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?