Getting ready, letting go...

 To feel extraordinarily small and unimportant is always a wholesome feeling.  Robert H. Benson

The above quote from one of my daily readers made me think of the long-ago tour friends and I took of Tiananmen Square in Beijing. The Square is massive, with huge structures and statues, and was designed, according to our guide, to make the individual feel "small and insignificant." That was very much a political imperative, but in some ways can apply to our 12 Step striving to be a worker among workers, loosening the grip on feeling "terminally unique." That seems easier as I get older, in both human and recovery years. There is a psychic gift in coming to understand that I am merely one among many, my life a very tiny dot in the history of humanity.

A tiny dot, but my tiny dot, intersecting with all I've come in contact with over the years, formally, familial, or simply a brief but raucous interaction at the grocery store like I had early one morning this week with two check-out clerks. The Reader's Digest was right - laughter is the best medicine.

My spouse and I are putting together our "GO NOW" earthquake kits, a couple of backpacks as well as larger containers to load in the car if there is time. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we keep hearing that "it's not if, but when" the "big one" will strike, like it did on the coast of Russia this week. I was never a Girl Scout, but I understand the reminder to "Be Prepared." Hopefully, we'll never need to outrun a wildfire or a flood, or dig out after a quake, but now, when those pesky public service announcements come on the air, I can say "check." 

In the process of gathering items (a hand crank radio, solar phone charger, etc) I came across a 45ish year-old transistor radio. The man I was officially with when I hit bottom (vs the drug dealer I was sleeping with) had a business relationship with Panasonic, and this radio is an example of what was, at the time, innovation. It still works. Still works, and makes me think of the various desks and shelves it sat on, long before wireless speakers and streaming were invented. 

Funny, how objects can trigger memories of connections. Many years ago, I was in a noon meeting, fairly new, when a fellow in a suit talked about how alcoholics often give personalities to inanimate objects. He was specifically talking about not wanting to throw away a favorite pencil out of loyalty. My grandmother's quilt had a personality, though now it is merely an old blanket with a cigarette burn on one corner, and a stain where I spilled calligraphy ink decades ago. I've carried it with me for many, many years, though mostly it is crammed into a closet. I'm close to letting it go.

Memories and meaning often fade over time. When my mother died, I took nearly everything that wasn't tied down, feeling her presence in various dishes and knick-knacks and towels. Today, many of these items have become simply things, things to release. My brother's criteria, when I'm attempting to foist something back into the house we grew up in, is to determine if there is a memory attached. Not quite "Does it spark joy?" ala Marie Kondo, but does it evoke a moment? If not, let it go. Let it go, let it go. I sometimes ask myself what I'd take were I to move into a single room in an assisted living facility, like I've helped people do. Perspective.  

As I prepare to meet with my new sponsor to discuss Step 2, and to meet with Step Group to talk about Step 7, I think about any old ideas I may need to release, still. Some of my old ideas are entrenched, harder to recognize, easier to justify as "the way I've always been." One of the challenges of long-term sobriety for this alcoholic is to continue the work of practicing the principles, one day at a freaking time. 

How do you recognize when comfort morphs into complacency? What old ideas of yours creep into the realm of truth when they might not be real? How might you balance honoring yourself and your experiences while recognizing you are simply one among many?

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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). I will bring copies of the workbook to SUMMERFEST in Eugene in August.

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. 

Pause...

 A poet I hadn't heard of died this week - Andrea Gibson - and from what I'm reading on social media, their work was beautiful, all the more poignant as death approached What particularly stuck me was this: "In the end I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks." Oh my. 

Yes. Stretch marks and scars, divots and dings, from love lost and love found, heartache and heartbreak and heart fulfilled, grief and elation and everything in between. I think of peak experiences and the depths of despair, the doldrums and excitements - the whole shebang. One day at a time, let me be awake to it all.

A meeting I participated in this week was on the topic of going deep, as in, "Do I need to go deeper?" For me that brings up the whole resting on my laurels vs contemplating my navel discussion. How much self-reflection is enough, and when do I need to put down the pen and get into action? Do I have enough periods of quiet so that I can hear the still, small voice, or am I making stuff up to fit my ideas of how things should be? All related to the Alanon suggestion to "reason things out with someone else," lest my crafty self-deception lead me into the land of justification and rationalization, the forest of "I'm right!"

I had a drinking dream this week. Unusual? Maybe. They are definitely less frequent than in earlier years and always contain a component of recovery. In this one, I was waiting for someone in a bar and ordered a gin and tonic. As soon as I put the glass to my lips and took a very small sip I thought, 'I should not be doing this" and put it down. I talked with my sponsor and a good friend, wondering if I needed to change my sobriety date since I didn't actually drink it. My sponsor suggested that yes, this was a slip as I talked about the strange mental twist that had me ordering a drink, but upset that she thought I should go from 30-plus years to under 30 days. And then I woke up. 

I've never had a G&T in my life, so it's funny that is what I ordered. I've never done LSD either, though once had a dream of doing so. As I heard early on, "It's alcohol-ism, not alcohol-wasm" and my dreams remind me that the disease is alive and biding its time somewhere in my subconscious. 

As July begins to wind down, I'm thinking of Step 7, the "humbly asked" part. I go in and out of "god" as an entity, but I do believe there are powers in the universe. Am I actually asking someone or something to take action on my behalf, or am I attempting to access my inner wisdom in order to raise awareness of the characteristics that get the way of my usefulness? The latter, I think, bringing me to a choice - same-old, same-old or try something just a wee bit different? Trying something different involves the often elusive "pause." If I think my responses/words/thoughts are automatic, I'm giving away my power of choice. Seems simple in a calm moment, but what about when my spouse's actions trigger me, or the person in front of me on the freeway has the nerve to drive the speed limit, or the neighbors are up late and noisy, or I read the newspaper? Acceptance doesn't mean approval, so how do I want to expend my energy? How do I move from thinking I'm in control to remembering my powerlessness over people, places and things? Again and again, PAUSE. 

 Do you ever have drinking or using dreams? How do you feel about it when you wake up? What could it mean to go deeper with your program and/or spiritual path? How is your relationship with Steps 6 and 7 these days? What about the "pause?"

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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). I will bring copies of the workbook to SUMMERFEST in Eugene in August.

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. 

 

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