This week I had coffee with two long-time friends from early recovery when we were peas in a pod - meetings, slumber parties, conferences - all the stuff of those exciting days of new sobriety. And, time marches on, with weddings and moves, changing habits (meetings/no meetings), changing activities - and yet, the history is there and the bond is real. Maybe not hang-out-every-weekend real, but still, a definite connection.
I had no idea when I went into treatment that I'd be making lifelong friends. I'm fortunate enough to have friends I've known since grade school, and my bestie who I met when we were 18. And then the sober pals, some long gone, a handful still in my (digital) address book, though we may only see each other once or twice a year, and those I'm close to that I met in treatment. Grateful that I no longer feel the need to jettison people from my life for one imagined offense or another.
I'm working the Steps with my new AA sponsor, currently on Step 4. She'd asked if I wanted more time for writing inventory - no. These days I put pen to paper and see what flows. Gone are the days when I felt the need to go at my psyche with a pickax. As speaker Lila R points out, if I'm current with Step 10 there likely won't be too much to write about. A couple of resentments, a few fears, but what I mainly do these days is more a narrative of what is troubling me. I find that the act of writing eventually brings me to an understanding of underlying causes and conditions, as well as solutions. As was mentioned in a long-timer's meeting last week, over the years it has become much easier to be gentle with myself.
Easier to be gentle with myself, and I hope, with those around me. I have a regularly scheduled brunch date with cousins on my dad's side - his half-brother's 2 daughters, their half-sisters, another cousin of theirs by marriage, and sometimes, dad's sister's remaining kids (I say "kids" but we're all in our 70's!). I was close with my immediate cousins, but the others, saw mainly at Christmas. It is nice knowing them as adults, discovering what we have in common (one is an avid fan of Jeopardy on TV, as am I), sharing our sometimes-twisted family sense of humor. None of them are people I see regularly. I don't need to approve or disapprove of their politics, their chosen lifestyle, what they order for lunch. While I crave and thrive on deep conversation, sometimes superficial is just fine, with the occasional deep dive.
It's vaguely interesting to me that neither my brother or myself, or the two offspring of Dad's half-brother have reproduced (though the rest of the clan made up for it). Are we consciously or unconsciously breaking the chain of alcoholism? Whatever the reason, this particular strain of the family name ends here. Which, goes back to the ongoing conversation about legacy. Does it really matter in the long run?
And, as the fates would have it, I had to skip the brunch to go to Urgent Care, on the suggestion of the phone advice nurse. In the past I likely would've told myself to ride it out, but as a breast cancer survivor, I pay closer attention to anything that doesn't seem right. As a past distance runner and current semi-distance walker, I nearly always have some aches and pains - the trick is to discern the usual from the unusual. Something felt off, so I made the call and have followed directions since then, with a two more appointments on the docket. More will be revealed, and I'm once again very grateful for good insurance that I know is a huge privilege.
I will admit to having a hard time falling asleep the night before making the call to the advice nurse, running all sorts of scenarios through my mind, doing my best to rein it in to the Serenity and 3rd Step prayers. I'm not a doctor, so my midnight ruminations are pointless. Yes, powerlessness sucks, and I can strive for the cosmic exhale that comes with surrender, no matter how many times I need to remind myself I'm not in charge.
And with now one of the appointments done, I can say "Whew!" with the radiologist's "all clear" after a mammogram and a second ultrasound. I cried tears of relief when she said everything is ok. I've been mostly positive with an underlying dread. I do know that with the principles of the program, I can walk through anything that comes down the pike, and I'm very, very grateful to be over this small speed bump of uncertainty.
How do you stay positive when the whispers of "what it?" work their way in? How do you use the inventory process today? Has there been any change in your ability to be gentle with yourself for characteristics or blunders, real or imagined? How about with other people?
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The NOW WHAT workbook is 78 pages of topics and processing questions, great for solo exploration or in a small group. Go to the WEB VERSION of this blog page for the link on ordering (PDF for those outside the U.S., or who prefer it, or hard copy mailed to you).
Contact me at SoberLongTime@soberlongtime.com or shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. A reminder that the workbook is available at Portland Area Intergroup, 825 NE 20th. for local folks. And Jackie, of TMar, has a supply as well, if you're at a conference where they have a booth.
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