Learning...

 Just when I start to think that no one is reading these posts, why do I bother, who cares anyway, someone reaches out to say that my words that week mattered. Truthfully, I do this blog as much for me as for the sober public, but it is good to know that I'm not merely blowing in the wind. I know that a blog is somewhat old-school, but I'm a reader, not a podcast person, so this is my venue - for today at least.

The person's comments caused me to think about all the words and bits of program I carry with me, some from members who shared maybe decades ago: It's not the "yet's" that scare me, but the "again's"; If things were supposed to be any other way, they'd be different;  Instead of reaching for a drink, I reached for the phone; Will power will not keep you sober, but want power will. And maybe most important at the time, the old guy who remembered my name and welcomed me when I came to the nooner a second time.

We just never know how our experience can benefit others, whether sharing our good fortune or the painful bits. It was hearing someone say that she drank when her mother died that solidified my intention to stick extra close to the program while my mom was ill. It was a speaker saying that listening is a much a part of the program as sharing our story that helped me release the idea that I had to perform or be brilliant when I shared, that it was ok to sit quietly in the corner. I learn from the people who keep showing up as well as those who wander away, those who share their successes as well as their failures - in other words, from all of it, including the person who goes on and on, or the one I look forward to hearing. 

And that's why I keep coming back - for our individual human drama,  the comedy, the truth that is stranger than fiction. I don't get that level of reality elsewhere - maybe in bits and pieces, but not in such as way as in program where it is our express purpose to share, freely and openly. That used to make me cringe, this baring of one's soul. Cringe but also weep with recognition. Oh yes, I've felt that way too, but didn't have the words to express myself. Thank you AA and Alanon, for expanding my emotional vocabulary.

And thank you for the "more will be revealed" aspect of our programs that can still surprise me, decades into sobriety. As part of an amends process for long ago hurts, a friend shared compassion for her younger self - her younger, intoxicated, unskilled self who made poor decisions that impacted others. As she spoke, it hit me that I've been holding my younger (intoxicated, unskilled) self to today's standards. In so many ways I've forgiven myself, and had extended living amends to both of the people where I do regret the past, and... there is a level of maudlin regret that is a component of my grief. Instead of the self-flagellation I sometimes do when I think about the individuals and the pain I caused, might I instead move to gratitude for lessons learned, and the relationship repair that occurred over time? As with so much of our program, it's about perspective, even the slightest shift. There is a sticky note here on my computer, asking "What else might be true?" I can apply that to a judgement/fear that comes up today and to my sometimes skewed view of the past. 

What is true is that my history contains episodes of joy as well as pain. Even in relationships where I acted out, there was fun and laughter, love and connection.  I got in trouble at school, and earned good grades; I was a stellar employee and called in with the "Monday flu" more times than I'd like to admit. Step 7 references "all of me, good and bad." I might restate that to skilled and unskilled, selfish and selfless, unconscious and awake. However I frame it, we're talking about the whole ball of wax. I haven't yet earned my halo - thank goodness. How boring would that be? 

What program nuggets of wisdom do you carry with you? What keeps you coming back, whether to meetings, the literature, or your own spiritual practice? Have you forgiven yourself for past actions, accepting that the past cannot be changed? If not, how can you broaden your view to see the whole picture, the positive and not so much?

   * * * * * *

Time for a new year inventory?   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 table.

Later is now...

  

                When we understand that each day isn't one more day but one less, we'll start giving more value to the things that truly matter.                     (FB/BuddhismPage)

I've been thinking about the whole Pippi Longstocking thing since she popped into my mind - attempting to channel her positive and inquisitive nature on my morning walks, for example. How might she view the world, vs my sometimes cranky outlook born of my HALTS being out of whack? 

I so often read about how in retirement transition or lifestyle changes, one can look back to what they wanted to do as a child for clues to the "now what?" question. My concrete brain thought they meant specifics, like "I've always wanted to be a concert pianist" or "I wish I'd worked as a florist" etc. and I didn't have that. I'd wanted to write a book (check - Shadows & Veins, available online), I wanted to be a secretary out of admiration for my aunt's glamorous wardrobe (I've done my share of clerical work, with or without nice clothes); I wanted to be a teacher (much of my work in treatment involved teaching). But I didn't go through life wishing I was sitting at a different desk.  I came from a fairly average middle class family (if average includes alcoholism) and had fairly average, if modest, dreams.

And then there's Pippi, or her cousin, Ms. Wanderlust, though my version always includes coming home. Maybe that piece of looking to our younger dreams for direction has more to do with attitude and orientation. Maybe it's more about "how do I want to be" vs "what do I want to do?" And OMG, how long has it taken me to get that?? Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly.

The re-siding construction project on our house was supposed to wrap up after three weeks of incessant banging, us with window shades drawn, and cats under the bed, but wouldn't you know it, a big chunk of rotted wood was discovered. Groan...  Time and money and the joys of being a homeowner. And trusting that it all works out. I suppose we could ignore it, or I could worry and fret, or... I can be an adult and know that stuff happens. 

The Project Manager teased my spouse and I, commenting that big home projects are often a source of consternation for couples. Ah yes, another f***ing growth opportunity for two sometimes bossy people. However, a long-term marriage is sort of like long-term recovery - we are quicker to recognize our personal triggers, own our part and move on. Team work makes the dream work.

In addition to my regular journal, I have a small 5-year volume I picked up at the start of my cancer treatment, now three years ago. Each day, one is to simply make a brief  note of the day's events. Wouldn't you know it, exactly one year ago, I wrote about de-cluttering my desk, which is what I did this week. OK, some things need to be done periodically, but how long am I going to write about decluttering before I feel satisfied I've done it? If I shift my mind set to "one less day" and can do so without panic, I can focus on what I say matters. So, a clean desk doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but leaving my papers in such a way to be less hassle for those left behind does. (An early supervisor once said, "Always leave your desk as if you'll be hit by a truck tonight." A scary thought, but I can tell you it was no fun cleaning up after someone who left the workplace abruptly, with files buried in a bottom drawer or a drawer full of opened snacks in another.)   Borrowing from Marie Kondo, as I go through various closets or look at shelves, I am asking, "Do I use this?" and/or "Does it spark joy?" or is it just something that I've held on to for no reason whatsoever? Maybe it had meaning at one time, but if I can't remember what that was, into the donation box it goes. 

That makes my think of my mother, an Avon Lady for decades. As a top seller, she had a collection of prize figurines. At one point, someone offered her $200 for one, so she, and we, thought we were sitting on a gold mine. A year or so after she passed, I put in a call to her former manager and was told, "Oh honey, nobody wants those dust-catchers anymore. You'd be lucky to get $5 or $10." Which reinforces my motto, "Later is now!" So, wear the pearls (that no jeweler wants to buy), use the good dishes (that no relatives want), read the "maybe someday" books (or add them to a local kiosk).

What does all this have to do with long-term sobriety? Life on life's terms stuff,  practicing the principles, doing my best to stay in today and determine what really matters. One more day, or one less? It's all about perspective. 

With long term recovery, is how you want to be in the world congruent with how you are most days? What are the growth opportunities that are coming up for you this week? Are there things, adventures, books, projects, etc that you're saving for later? Is later now for some of that?

   * * * * * *

Time for a new year inventory?   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 table.

the grand adventure

 I don't consider myself agnostic, but I do appreciate a lot of what is published on the weekly AA Agnostica page (substack).This last week (1/4/26), guest author Paul Pellet compared our alcoholic recovery to the classic hero's journey, noting that not much in AA is actually new, but draws on wisdom from many sources. Joseph Campbell also wrote about the hero's journey and how we all have times in our lives that take us on a archetypal path.

The first part of the journey is about separation, leaving the known, not sure of what lies ahead. That was certainly true for me - I understood that how I was living wasn't working, so took a leap of faith by turning my will and my life over to a treatment program, having no idea what a sober life could be.

Next comes the liminal state, the in-between where we've let go of the old but haven't quite grasped the new - the monkey bar analogy a past therapist used where I've let go of one rung, momentarily in mid-air. For me, this was the scary but exhilarating time of discovery, of following direction because I didn't have any better ideas, the "take what you like and leave the rest" adventure to see what worked for me. 

And then we return - to our daily lives, jobs, family, etc,  now able to guide others through the process, with rites and rituals in the sharing of our stories.

I've long appreciated the ritual aspect of our program. I can be in any meeting,, anywhere, and find comfort in the cadence of the Steps (even if I don't speak the language), the knowing that the meeting will follow a general, recognizable format. Even if I'm not actively listening, I can feel safe with the rhythm of the process. 

And that feeling of safety can often lead to tears, like in my Alanon meeting when the mere act of sitting in the circle brought tears to the surface as I thought about my brother and loss and the passage of time. I'd just visited with him after he'd been to pick up his wife's cremains and saw his attorney to adjust his will and financial intentions. As I sat with him, I could feel the family dynamic of not sitting still urging me to cut the conversation short. Why? I had nowhere else to be, other than being a support to him, listening to this man who isn't very social (an understatement) and now lives alone for the first time in decades. As Lila R said in her new year talk, pause, pray, proceed and sometimes the "proceed" means holding still.

I'm usually involved with my walking group on Saturday mornings, but we're on break until mid-February, so enjoyed the open space that let me attend a meeting that several friends like. The topic was related to identity, and how that (potentially) changes once we're sober. The discussion made me think of my cousin, who asked his sister, "When did Jeanine get a personality?" when I was a few years into recovery. Drinking and drugging me was either in the corner, trying to be invisible, or metaphorically dancing on the table tops. The true "me" is somewhere in-between. As a social introvert, I can hold my own at a party or meeting, but am usually very happy to get back to a cup of tea at home. 

Someone asked themselves the question, "What did I want to be when I grew up?" Though I'd never thought of it before, my immediate, internal answer was Pippi Longstocking - adventurous, independent, imaginative and joyful. When I was little, I had a recurring dream that I was in the Navy, in charge of uniforms and supplies before we set sail. I loved that dream - my own nighttime movie - and often went to sleep hoping to go there again. I also wanted to be a pioneer, like the Sager children who continued on the Oregon trail after both their parents died. 

Obviously I'm not a fictional character, and a century or so too late to be a pioneer, but what is it about those early wishes that might speak to me today and/or has informed my choices over the years? I'm not intrepid in a risk-taking sense, but I've had many grand adventures in many places I'd only read about or seen in a film. An ex could never understand my spending money on travel, preferring to have something tangible in hand. I'd rather have the memory, the experience of a shared smile with a stranger or a conversation with someone who wanted to practice their English. I think Pippi would want to come along.

How has the Hero's Journey played out in your life and recovery? Might you be on that path today in some form or another? What did you want to be, or do, when you were a kid? Has any of that played out in the here and now, whether you work life, social life or ???  

   * * * * * *

Time for a new year inventory?   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 table.

a new year...

 The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order - Eudora Welty

And that significance seems to come and go, from monumental to mere memory; from a small blip to a turning point. On New Year's Eve, I took a neighborhood walk with several women I've known since grade school. We met at our high school, then naturally gravitated towards the park a mile or so away where we spent many a weekend night as teens, smoking pot and drinking stolen wine, usually until we puked under a tree or the booze ran out. On the way back to my car, I passed the house where I hit bottom, the one with the meth lab in the basement. Time marches on.   

None of this stroll down memory lane had much of a pull, like it might've at one time. Maybe my reactions, or lack of, are related to spiritual fitness? Maybe simply the passing of time? I do know that there are times I think of my mother, for example, with tears, and other times, simply a recognition or pleasant memory. Sometimes I think of my ex, the man who married someone else but still put me through treatment, crying for the pain I caused, and sometimes the memory is simply sweet, or neutral. Sometimes the sunrise or sunset triggers a sense of awe, and sometimes I barely notice. The beat goes on.

The beat goes on, and this weekend I marked 40 years of continuous sobriety. 40 freaking years. I celebrated by throwing myself a dance party followed by a meeting focused on gratitude, and how recovery turned out different than perhaps anticipated in the pre-sober days. We are definitely not a glum lot. And way more than a celebration of my recovery, this was a celebration of of our recovery, of community, of people coming together who may not have seen each other in years (oh how the pandemic changed things). It wasn't the "happy anniversary!" wishes that got me, but the "Oh my god! I haven't seen you in forever!" as people walked in the door,  shrieks of joyful recognition. and  connect-the-dots moments - my sponsor realizing she used to work with a grade school pal of mine; two separate groups who'd been at morning meetings that day talking about a 40th anniversary party they'd be attending, only to have someone they didn't know (yet) say, "We'll be there too." It's like Huey from Nova Scotia said in the Long-Timers meeting at the International in Toronto years ago - "What keeps me coming back is the love vibe of the people." Indeed. Grateful doesn't even begin to describe the joy in my heart.

I chaired my in-person homegroup on Sunday, and could remember almost glossing over when someone shared about having 10, 20, 30 or more years sober. Even 5 years seemed ridiculously out of reach in my first weeks and months. I'm not one of these people who tends to lead with how much time I've got (unless it's a birthday meeting, of course). I subscribe to the belief that we all just have today, having been in too many meetings over the years where a long-timer goes out and struggles to come back - maybe triggered by medication, maybe from simply forgetting they're alcoholic, maybe just deciding they're done with the sober life. I don't want to be one of those people, and I know that I'm sober today based on how I work my program in the here and now, not there and then. 

So, back in the saddle after a very full and fun social month of December, with entertaining, holiday events, house guests - a joyful time of love and laughter shared. Back to the gym, back to salad for dinner, back to not keeping sugary treats in the kitchen! And always an eye to how I can be part of the solution  today, with my morning readings and journal, regular meetings, and contact with trusted others. 

To that end, someone asked me, only partly in jest, to be their "retirement sponsor" as they make the transition from the daily routine to more freedom of time. That can be challenging, with shifting priorities and often a "who am I now?" focus. The part about seeing where our experience can benefit others doesn't just apply to staying sober. As a long-timer, I have a lot of life to share, when asked. And therein lies the key to my Alanon program - Did they ask?  One day at a time I can utilize what I learned from Lila R in a New Year's talk: Pause, Pray, Proceed. One day at a time, one decision at a time.

How did you enter the new year? How can you strive for peace and serenity when the outside world seems to be way off kilter? How can Let it begin with me ease both personal relationships and relationship to news of the day? How can I utilize the tools of the program to deal with uncertainty?

   * * * * * *

Time for a new year inventory?   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