Memory

 

I recently went through my God Box, which I’d heard is a good thing to do every so often, just to see what had me worried and has since resolved, and which situations I couldn’t even remember. It had been nearly 6 years since I’d done it, so there were notes about the pandemic, my spouse’s cancer and mine, my 1^st husband’s passing, retiring… And, as expected, all had been resolved, one way or another, in my time or not.

I know the God Box, or God Can, or call-it-what-you-will receptacle is merely symbolic, but I am a person who appreciates ritual, a concrete representation of what my psyche is reaching for – clarification, resolution, letting go, whether that’s writing a letter to someone who has passed, writing my worry on a piece of paper, lighting a candle… For me, there is healing, healing and a means of definition, if I put pen to paper or talk it out with someone else, or imagine my concern going up in a puff of smoke. My brain can still be a sketchy neighborhood if I go there alone.

Case in point – one of my spouse’s sponsors attends a meeting I go to regularly. Rightly or wrongly, I tend to temper my shares if I’m in a room with people who know us both – especially Alanon, since most of my “isms” in that department are related to my interactions with hubs. Well, this week I decided to out myself and my likely needless worries, so I approached the guy, only to find out he didn’t even know who I was. “Who’s your husband??” he asked. “Oh.” So, one more time, I’m nowhere near as important as I sometimes think (!) and now he does know who I am. And probably not paying much attention to me. Years ago, a friend surmised that after 3 or 4 minutes of a share, people tend to check out so it doesn't really matter all that much what I have to say. I tend to believe she's right, thinking of a few times I was literally crying my eyes out during a share, only to have someone come up after the meeting and say, "So, how's it going?"  Of course, sometimes I say what I need to hear, with the truth I may not have recognized until the words were spoken. 

In our monthly Old Codgers coffee date, a friend wondered about memory and our tendency, as we get older, to talk about our youth, or with her kids, about their growing up years. Is it because there's so much in there? Lovers and travels and conversations of long ago, people who moved away or passed on, books read...  Some of those memories are poignant, some faded and some sharp and clear as a bell, like the old-timer Norm B welcoming me back to my second meeting, remembering my name. It's not that life isn't interesting today, but "Do you remember the time?..." takes me many places, to many people.

Speaking of, yesterday was the anniversary of my first marriage, in 1973. I tend to post online about it, and about him. I'm friends with his family, he was part of our high school crew, and maybe most importantly, my current husband welcomed him into our family.  Coincidentally, I ran into our best man at the grocery store the day before - definitely a voice from the past.

I had a co-worker who talked about her "starter marriage." I find that term dismissive, but it kind of fits as a description of the immaturity that had us thinking we were grown ups but acting like high school kids. I do remember the excitement, the hope, the belief in "happily ever after" that propelled us to a wedding, back in the day when my mother didn't want us simply living together like couples were starting to do in the 1970's. The weekend dance parties on the green shag carpet only carried us so far as depression struck for me, realizing that I didn't know how to cook (at all) and that my young spouse had no intention of vacuuming. We plugged along for about 5 years as my alcoholism took hold (he was the first one who said, "Why can't you stop with one or two?!"), and both our infidelities tore apart the flimsy vow we'd made.  A lot of water went under the bridge from then onward. I'm so grateful we reconnected in the last few years of his life - he was a better friend than he was a husband. And, I'm forever thankful that, when he knew he was dying, he told me, "Just so you know, I have no hard feelings - for any of it." And he sure could've, but for the healing power in living amends. 

What of your amends have been especially meaningful, whether a direct conversation or the changed behavior variety? Whether or not you use a "god can," what are some situations that had you in a knot but have since resolved? Are there particular rituals or tools that help you release the illusion of control? 

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Grow or Go

 "Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tip toe if you must, but take the step."   from Sermons on the Couch, 8/23/26

A few weeks ago I mentioned an acquaintance who said she loves a spiritual nudge, in response to my saying I've felt a bit off. I'm realizing that I don't necessarily welcome the nudge, the nudge that often means stepping outside my comfort zone. That comfort zone is WAY bigger than when I first got sober, but the edges are still there, whispering, "No!" or "Beware!"

Many years ago now, a friend introduced me to Runes, the small stones that can be used to access my inner wisdom, much like Tarot cards. When I got my own set, I repeatedly pulled the stone described as "disruption," and within the next couple of years, the boyfriend left, the job ended abruptly, I moved, people died...In retrospect, other than losing people, the endings were gifts, the Universe doing for me what I couldn't do for myself. And.... there is still a part of me that imagines the "nudge" as a push off a cliff. I'm not a great fan of the unknown. Sure, give me a nudge, but maybe along with a preview or a map!

And then one of those crazy coincidences showed up. For a year or so I've been vaguely considering attending lectures a local university puts on for seniors (as in elders). It's near my house, some of the topics look interesting.... maybe someday. I'd gone so far as to track down the webpage last Sunday morning and penciled in the upcoming orientation - one step at a time. And then, in my Sunday in-person group, a woman came over to chat about the Eugene conference, morphing into chit chat about being introverts. Seemingly out of nowhere, she mentioned that she participates in the adult learning program I'd just looked up. A cosmic connection, or perhaps a spiritual nudge??

And, on Friday, when I reminded the meeting acquaintance about her spiritual nudge comment, she replied, "I said that??" and we agreed that it's probably best to pull that nudge in close, just to keep an eye on it! Always the reminder that I'll know what I need to know. In the meantime, I'll attend the orientation for the adult learning program...

I recently read The Measure of My Days by Florida Scott-Maxwell. Written in 1979, when the author was in her 80's, it is essentially her journal of aging. While parts felt dry, and I'll admit to skipping ahead, I was interested in how she described "the paradox of old age, where the physical body grows frail, yet the inner mind and passions burn brightly." I'm not there yet, but I will admit to having books and papers and boxes of photographs that I imagine myself spending time with "when I'm old." 

Before I get "old" - ha ha, "older," I am committed, right here on the page, to getting my affairs in order. Essentially they are, in that I've prepaid my funeral expenses and have a will, but would my spouse or brother know where to find those documents? What about the bills that come to my personal email? I often tell my husband that I need to know what of his belongings and collections are important, but I need to do the same. What of my trinkets or tchotchkes are actual collectibles or have family history significance and what are simply memories that only have meaning for me? 

 I'm not exactly on the verge of Swedish Death Cleaning or becoming a minimalist, however, I certainly can tidy up. A friend once told me how he and his siblings labeled items in their mother's house, so they'd know who got what when she passed. I could do the same. For example, who would appreciate the 2nd edition Big Book that a cousin passed on to me from her grandmother? Is my box full of ticket stubs worth anything more than the stories I attach to the events? In a box, somewhere in the back of a closet, sits the pair of shoes I wore climbing inside one of the pyramids at Giza in Egypt, the absolute coolest thing I'd done in life up to that point. And... essentially, it's a pair of old shoes in a box. Should I frame them in a shadow box? Hang them on a wall?  How about take a picture, then put in a donation box? Even thinking about digitalizing the photos from that time, I ask, "Why?" To look at when I'm "old"?  To save for who?

On one of those many pieces of paper floating around my desk are notes I took from a de-clutter post. What strikes me today is "Memories live in you, not in things." That can be tough for this daughter of a Depression Era mom. Things can act as a prompt for memory, whether my original Big Book with treatment pals autographs or an ashtray from my first trip to the UK.. I guess part of it might be to consider that if I don't have a memory without seeing the thing, maybe it isn't such an important memory after all. 

Some memories will likely never fade - like those triggered by the 40 year old scars from shooting up , or the photo that reminds me of the time my brother and I smoked pot together for the first time (after burying our dad in the sand at the beach). I drove to the coast yesterday for brunch with my first sponsor, and that particular stretch of highway has many memories, from childhood to the drinking days and recovery. 

It was great to connect with my former sponsor. She had three-ish years when we met, and I though she walked on water! I'm grateful for the wisdom and gentle guidance she shared and that I still draw on. It's pretty simple - don't drink and go to meetings, and "you either grow or you go." Like me, she's a meeting go-er. Why would I stop doing what works?

Where in your life might you be feeling a spiritual nudge? How might you remain open to whatever the Universe is trying to tell you, however subtle that might be? Are your affairs in order? If not, what is a small action you could take, "just in case"?  What did you learn from your first sponsor, or early meetings, that still ring true today?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Relieve me...

 When thinking about, and telling, my story, I know that I spent most of my life (pre-recovery and some time after) looking for something/someone/the next thing to fill the empty space inside that we read about in the Big Book. In our literature, it's described as a god-shaped hole but whatever its configuration, I very much, and very much without knowing it, was reaching, grasping, searching for something that would make me feel OK inside. Forget about feeling whole  - I just wanted to feel OK. I wanted to feel OK, but didn't have the ability to put words to the search, getting swept up in the next infatuation, the new drug, the new dance club, the next new idea and on and on.

I feel for that girl, and for those who got swept up in the tornado. Hence the amends process, and the very slow amends to myself - the amends that have to do with sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly coming to understand what propelled me. I'm grateful for all those in the rooms who spoke to the different avenues our dis-ease could take once we stopped the drinking and drugging - spending, gambling, food, sex/relationships... I'm not coming up with a fitting analogy, but in my mind I picture the cartoon Tasmanian Devil, whirling and whirling while trying to grab the next shiny object. 

And here I (we) sit, in long term recovery, way more aware of the discomforts when they show up. This week I've been feeling conference let-down. After the adrenaline high of the past few weeks, what I call my tuning fork energy, "normal" feels a little flat. A massage, acupuncture, my regular meetings, a hike in the woods are all part of my regular routine, but/and extra helpful as I settle into the here and now. Kind of like after running a marathon, completing a term at school or a big project at work- the sense of gratitude and accomplishment plus the emotional release. Always, always, self-care is key.

As a friend in a meeting mentioned recently, I've never been here before - this age, this much recovery, this particular situation, which for me these days includes witnessing and supporting friends and family who are walking through age-related change. It truly is one day at a time, and evidence that we all age at different rates with different challenges. I can get into comparison mode -better here, worse there - but my first sponsor used to caution that the only comparing I need do was with myself, as in where I came from and where I am now. My mother's 71 looked different than mine, which looks different that so-and-so's. And, so be it. 

The topic of a recent meeting was "time" and its various applications. As a friend and I looked at our busy retirement calendars to make a coffee date, they reminded me of the long ago speaker we saw who said, "Time is my higher power". I can certainly relate to that, and not necessarily in a good way as I track the number of minutes I walk, keep an eye on the clock as I go about my day - a habit from my work life, or simply part of who I am. As I've mentioned before, I had a boyfriend who dubbed me "the human clock." I own that today (!) and have gotten better at relaxing my grip. 

It keeps coming back to, "How do I want to spend my remaining time on the planet?" It's not about things to do - I tend to live my bucket list. There aren't too many places I long to visit, or accomplishments I hope to achieve. It really is about how do I want to "be"? What energy do I want to both expend and draw upon? How can I be part of the solution today?

I've shared this before, and didn't note the source, but once again: "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." Talking with a friend who is increasingly frail, both physically and mentally, they said that the Serenity Prayer is essentially their talisman, with the emphasis on "change the things I can" being expectations - the expectation that my body will always do what I want it to, that my friends, my spouse, my frame-of-reference icons (farewell Dolly) will always be there, that I'm in charge. 

It helps to talk about it, as we say in Alanon, "reason things out with someone else." On my long weekend walk, I stopped by my brother's merely to use the bathroom, but then he decided to walk half-way back towards my house with me, uncharacteristically. I say uncharacteristically, but he is in the process of finding a new way of being since his wife died. It was good to walk and talk with this man who shares many of my memories, but who sometimes has me wondering if we grew up in the same house.  Same with my cousins. I recently remarked to one of them how much I enjoyed their house because of all the fun and commotion, while she preferred my house because it was quiet. Perspective.

How do you get centered if you're feeling off track? What feelings does the word "time" conjure up? What is included for you in "change the things I can?" 

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Connections over time

 Oh  man, I've had an emotion-packed weekend. Several months ago I was asked to speak at Summerfest, an AA/Alanon conference in Eugene, Oregon. I obsessed a bit, like I do, wanting to do right by the program, and on Sunday, did my best in the moment. True to form, there were three talks - the stellar pitch I gave while on a long walk last week, the actual talk, and the "coulda, shoulda,woulda" on the drive home. And...I gave myself permission to fret for the rest of Sunday, and then "poof" let it go into the Universe. I doubt that anyone else was thinking, "She really should have said _____" or "Gosh, she left out _____." Relieve me of the bondage of self.

Above all, way above all, were the connections made at the conference - old and new. The other speakers were great - it's fun meeting fellow members from around the country, sharing ideas and experiences. We have a good friend in Eugene, a good friend we often just connect with at the conference (I love our AA friendships that can go months without talking and then pick right up where we left off). We shared a meal and laughs and several conversations with her and another friend - equally fun to introduce friends to each other. And, to run into a friend of a friend, who got her pal on the phone in order to listen in on the workshop I did on relationships (Hi V!)

Friday evening, the local pal walked me over to introduce me to a good friend of hers. As we said our "hello's" I looked very closely at her husband, and with a couple of questions, realized he was the spouse of a dear supervisor in my early work life who died far too young of ovarian cancer, probably 35 years ago. I think of her often, and had frequently wondered what ever happened to her husband who walked those final months with her - and there he was. I cried just a little, and he may have too, as I told him how much I'd loved Kathy. To another friend, who also knew her, I said, "Higher Power in the house," to which she replied, "Always is." Always is, making connections, providing just the right reading or conversation or river path or seemingly chance encounter that reminds me I'm not in charge.

After my talk Sunday morning, two fellows I'd known through another couple, both now deceased, came up for hugs and memories. And then another friend of my closest friend was there for a hug, showing me photos on his phone of me and my bestie in the 1990's. Oh my, we were young.

The topping on the cake was when a young woman stood in front of me and I realized she was the daughter of another close friend, now with nearly 18 months clean & sober after years of struggle, years of her two dads' struggles and prayers, years of in and out, now in a speaker meeting with her daughter and grandchild, and working at a treatment program. I've known this woman since she was a little girl, and while not directly impacted by her disease progression, was well aware of the hell she and her parents went through. Higher Power in the house - the Universe's timing, not ours.

Last week, as I packed for the weekend away, I started to cry with gratitude, thinking of the shivering denizen I once was - the "we don't get here from there." Recovery has given me a full and rich life, not without heartaches and challenges, but a beautiful life of being present, a life of strong friendships, a life of service in one form or another. I never would've imagined the gifts I have today when I stopped on the Sunset Pass on the way to treatment to shoot up for the last time. Grateful doesn't being to describe how I feel. 

And, back to reality, I treated myself to a massage in an effort to get out of my head and back into my body - it can be hard to stay in busy-mind when my tight hamstrings are being stretched. So, back to reality with an eye to intentionally leaving space in my weeks - space for the slowing-down garden, the closet that needs attention, just sitting. I know I keep returning to this theme. As a friend told me years ago, I'll keep getting the lesson until I learn the lesson. 

What lessons are on repeat for you? Can you give yourself grace as you trudge the road? How does gratitude show up in your life today?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Time...

 Last weekend, the Lloyd Center mall here in Portland closed after sputtering along the last few years. When built in 1960, it was the largest mall west of the Mississippi, and as a kid, offered a myriad of opportunities for fun and mischief and everything in-between. My cousins and I slid down the garbage chute in the big department store, waded in the fountain, slid down the escalator railings. My first date with my first  husband was there, and very likely, our last meal out together in the food court before the pandemic shut everything down. Last week, six of us who'd gone to grade school and high school together wandered the nearly empty hallways, remembering, laughing, getting misty with the sheer volume of memories. 

And soon, something else will take its place, and we old timers will drive by and say, "Remember when..." like we do at the site of a neighborhood high school that was torn down, the space where my first apartment burned down, and on and on. Years ago, my boss and I were on a work trip in Maine, and when asking for directions, the old guy we talked to said, "You turn where the Dunkin Donuts used to be." I can relate.

We spent the weekend in Seattle to attend a friend's wedding, a friend of a friend I first met at the San Antonio International in 2010. It was a sweet service, and very cool to meet several other AA folks with 40+ years, and several more in the 30's. I love seeing us out and about, living the dream(s) of long term sobriety (which includes the rollercoaster of good and not so good life-on-life's-terms). 

And on Monday, my closest friend, the friend who left treatment when I'd been there a mere 5 days, celebrated 41 years of continuous sobriety, one day at a time. As I tell him, my recovery wouldn't have been the same without that chance meeting that led to living together briefly (twice), travels, meetings and more meetings, losing loved ones, breakups and make-ups, moving and staying put and on and on. Much has changed in our lives over the years, but our friendship as well as our commitment to the 12 Step way of life has not. "Stick with the winners" applies as much today as it did at the beginning. 

It is the connections over time that prompt my gratitude, from the casual to the intense. In a recent meeting, a couple of people shared about having had time, going out, and now trying to make their way back. I hope to never have that experience - obviously for the pain of active addiction, but hugely for the people. What would I do without you? 

How would you describe the gifts of long-term sobriety? If, like many of us, you came to AA to get the heat off, what have been the unexpected joys of a life in recovery?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Letting Go

 I attended one of those meetings last week that caused me to catch my breath with recognition, the connections available despite my thinking I'm the only one - the only one who forgets to turn it over, the only one who is sick and tired of thinking about my weight/diet/fitness, the only one who is face-to-face with the aging process. It has felt for awhile now that a shift is due, but a shift from what, a shift to what? I've long described myself as someone who'd rather be busy than bored, but that no longer seems to fit. But if that doesn't, what does?

Is all this merely the continued settling in to being retired? The deeper understanding that I'm now in my (early) 70's? The desire for space in my days? The chair person last week said that she tells herself to bring curiosity and oxygen to the situation (whatever that is). Ah yes. Relax and take it easy. Take a breath. Stay open to whatever is on the horizon. Call on gratitude for the whole of it. 

I mentioned my general dis-ease to a friend as we were leaving a meeting and she exclaimed,  "Oh! I love a spiritual nudge!" pointing out that I will know what I need to know when I know it. Maybe the "letting go" isn't necessarily about something specific but about letting go of the whole darn day. I can do the "upon awakening" routine, set an intention, and then proceed. Chop wood and carry water. 

On another note, sort of, a friend who is in her fifties was talking about aging and how for those of us who did not have children, the timeline feels different. Lacking all the markers of children- starting school, finishing school, getting married, becoming a grandparent Etc - can feel like we are in perpetual, if not adolescence, at least younger adulthood. That was exactly the topic for my Master's thesis way back in the year 2000- the idea that our culture continues to view the life narrative of adult women as being synonymous with motherhood. How do we, men and women,  measure time if not parenting? I can "borrow" a friend's journey, noting when they become grandparents for example as a reflection of aging perhaps, and my own creaky knees. And then there's recovery and our noting of time passing, time passing as a sober person, living longer than we'd likely anticipated.  

I'm a bit off- center this week. My new and old computers are in the shop undergoing the tech equivalent of a Vulcan Mind Meld. Yeah, sure, the smart phone is great, but I'm accustomed to the bigger screen and keyboard (yes, a luxury problem). And, our city has one of the worst air quality in the US due to wildfire smoke, with strong recommendation to stay indoors as eerie light filters through the windows. I can write a gratitude list z that I have an indoors to stay in, a computer to take to the shop, a working phone, doing my best to stay in the moment. Onward!

When did you last feel a spiritual nudge, and where did that lead? How do you let go when you notice your fists are tight? What's on your gratitude list today?

Family, of chance and of choice

A friend, new to retirement, and I have started a weekly walk and coffee habit, solving the problems of the world (or at least, sharing our opinions!). I like our new ritual. It can be too easy to one day think, "I haven't actually talked with anyone in person other than my spouse and the grocery clerk for weeks! That's part of why I'm glad to be back at an in-person AA meeting (and my in-person Alanon), as well as summer music-in-the-park that several friends and I attend. As my introvert brother might say, I don't need a lot of people, but I do need them every so often. I am very grateful for the technology that lets me have daily contact with two good friends who live elsewhere, and, face-to-face keeps me tethered to the here and now.

The in-person friend sometimes asks, "So what are you doing the rest of the day?" Uh, taking a nap and cleaning the kitchen? Hitting an online meeting and watching Jeopardy? Not all that exciting, and I'm getting more and more OK with that. 

My dad's sister had six kids, and from my age 8 forward, we lived near each other. The two youngest girls were my best friends, one in grade school and one in high school and beyond (that shifted when she got married and had kids and I got strung out). In any event, of the original six, just three are alive, and the remaining brother and his wife are moving to the southeast to be near their daughters and grandkids. That seems to be what people do. He and I don't see each other much, every few months at our cousin's brunch, but I'll miss his being near - he who walked me down the aisle when I got married, and who once drove four hours to surprise my mom with a "happy birthday." 

Dad's sister was my mom's best friend.. Over the years, after out mothers died, we cousins drifted - some moving away, busy lives, our social and political beliefs on different paths - and yet, we've maintained a connection born of history. And, as I keep noting, the beat goes on. On the other side of the family, Mom's sister's son moved closer once his mother passed - he and I see each other monthly during symphony season (he's a subscriber). There are other cousins on that side that, once their mother died, I knew I'd likely never see again. History matters, and not having reproduced, all those family stories mean less. Interesting to contemplate my foremothers and fathers, and no one to pass the family lore on to (which is why I donated a lot of my mother's papers, photos and artifacts to the Museum of the Oregon Territory) Funny enough, neither my brother or I, or Dad's half-brother's daughters have had kids. Some Freudian something-or-other there, I'd imagine, or maybe an unconscious desire to stop the family disease in its tracks.

What does all this have to do with recovery? My cousin moving has me thinking about family and what that means. In recovery, we talk about Family of Chance vs Family of Choice - I feel lucky that I do like my birth family, but in many respects, over the years I feel closer to my12 Step family (as well as my bestie, who's been in my life since we were 18). Kind of like birthdays - sure, the belly-button birthday means something, but it is my sober-versary that is the bigger deal. My birth family knows my history (and participated in much of it), but/and it is my sober friends who have walked with me in the day-to-day.

After thinking about family and history and connections over time, I came across the following:

 Yes. They'll forget us. Such is our fate, there is no help for it. What seems to us serious, significant, very important, will one day be forgotten or will seem unimportant. And it's curious that we can't possibly tell what exactly will be considered great and important, and what will seem petty and ridiculous...   Anton Checkhov

More and more I find myself contemplating my mortality, triggered by many in my age range who are doing the same (and writing brilliantly about the shifts in consciousness). What will seem important when I get to the end? Probably not the externals - the education or career, the travel, the marathons, other than how they've indicated my priorities... What I'd hope to leave as legacy is kindness, connection, an example of walking the talk. We humans want to know that we mattered, that our time on earth was more than just a blip, more than just taking up space. We used to do an exercise in treatment where clients wrote their own obituary. What might mine say? I've seen wonderful obits in the newspaper about sober AA's, those that don't mention recovery, and those strangers that do list alcoholism as the cause of death (GSO in NY has guidance on how to handle a person's AA membership in an obituary). Grateful that, just for today, I have the opportunity to contribute to what my legacy might be. But, who knows? In the meantime I'll continue to suit up and show up for whatever the day may bring. 

How have your daily routines changed over the years? How has the idea of Family of Chance/Family of Choice played out in your recovery?  My mother wrote out her own obituary, wanting to make sure we didn't leave anything out. What would you write?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Marking time...

 And the beat goes on... both positively and not so much. A cousin back east recently shared the successes of her grandchildren as they become adults. Another cousin, closer to home, let me know that her adorable newest grandchild has a form of eye cancer and just got fitted with a port for chemo. She's a sweet child, just a toddler...  again and again, you just never know.

In the beat going on and on and on department, an old friend pointed out that our high school class of 1972 turns 72 years old this year. Dear God, we blinked a few times and are now old people. We'll gather for a very casual get together at the park where a lot of us smoked pot and drank the cheap wine we'd stolen from the corner market. We were a class of 500 (baby boomers) with close to 100 passed on, accidents soon after graduation, a couple of people from the AIDS epidemic, illnesses, suicide...   Many have moved, out of state or out of country, and many are here in the old neighborhood or nearby. I was definitely a park-rat in high school - got good grades, but spent most non-class time getting high or smoking cigarettes. Thanks to lessons learned in sobriety, I'm one of the gatherers, with the email list and Facebook site, the one with the stick-to-it-ivness that makes me great for the task of invites. Who would've thought, in those long ago days when I craved attention but wanted to be invisible? I ran into a friend who was getting ready to take his 93 year old dad to Texas for his high school reunion, likely only 2 alumni left. I wonder how long my group will keep meeting, as our numbers and health decline. 

It is sweet and a little eerie to see those I've known since I was a kid, or, in the world of AA and Alanon, those I've known in the rooms for decades. I was with friends listening to music in the park last weekend. A woman and I kept eyeing each other, then realized we'd gone to Alanon together pre-covid. I recognized another woman at a meeting recently who'd been out for 10 years, just now making her way back. And, the guy with 5 days I mentioned last week was at the meeting again, this time with 11 days! Keep coming back (stay - it's easier)!

And then, I just learned that someone from my former home group died last autumn. I didn't know him well, but we sat around the same table for years. He was only 76. There was a time that would've sounded ancient. These days, not so much. The beat goes on, until it doesn't.

I get Sermons on the Couch, a weekly email of inspiration and information. This week the author reminds me that somewhere there is someone who'd give anything for the ordinary day I've woken up to, with the encouragement to celebrate, even quietly, the beauty of this life in all it's glory and pain, excitement and boredom and everything in-between. One day at a time, one day at a time.

How do you both acknowledge the passage of time and live in the moment? What are you grateful for today, both big and small?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Time keeps on slipping into the future...

 A good friend was here for a week, a week of urban adventures, a hike and a trip to the coast with our other travel buddy. The three of us were supposed to be out of the country for 10 days. That fell apart, but we decided to fill the time with her visit. She used to live here, but not for a while, so it was fun being a semi-tourist in my own town, as well as connecting with her old friends who are mine too, though I rarely see them these days. Covid changed so much. Covid and simply getting older, when staying in has more appeal than doing the latest thing. But it is about balance - being super busy/out and about with my friend caused me to compare my usual days of mostly being at home. Too much of either can be draining. Home time, meetings and sponsoring, my volunteer gig, errands... the days and weeks definitely fill up, but/and for me, the challenge, always, is to avoid busy for busy's sake, intentionally leaving open space.

There was a fellow with 5 days sober at our in-person home group this past week, 5 days after going in and out for the past 15-20 years. That must be pure torture. I realized early on that I didn't have it in me to bounce back and forth, out of fear I just wouldn't make it back. I don't have any magic formula - just the "don't drink and go to meetings" instruction. I am convinced, purely by observation, that chronic relapsing changes one's brain so that it's harder to make that surrender that marks Step One. I never want to forget that I've fully conceded to my innermost self that I'm alcoholic. No reason whatsoever to test that.

And so, I'll keep doing what works - not with the urgency of early recovery, but with the steadfast commitment to this way of life. Is it merely a habit? Maybe, but not a bad one to have. Three good friends are celebrating time this week - 24, 32 and 39 years. Who would've thought, when we were shivering denizens, that we'd be here all these years later, happy, joyous and free (most days).

Short post today as I get back into the day-to-day groove. On a fun note, again about long-term relationships - 4 of us from the way back time machine are planning a reunion of sorts, all attending the same home group in the 80's and 90's. 2 of us are back at the meeting, frequently thinking of the ghosts in the room - the old timers who were there when I arrived, demonstrating "keep coming back" by example. Now I can be that person, showing that it truly does work over time, and that recovery is about so much more than putting the plug in the jug.

How do you keep "fully conceded" fresh in your mind without it being a morbid reflection or obsession? What would be on your gratitude list today?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

History

 One of my daily readers this week made the distinction between "have to" and "get to," as in, I'm sober now so I get to go to my job vs "Ugh. I have to go to work." Goes back to the "remember when you wanted what you now have." As someone in a meeting recently said, "I used to spend rent money on cocaine and now I own a home." Indeed. I have to vacuum and clean house vs I get to host a good friend coming to stay for a few days. Closely related is the whole idea of choice. Running a race once, a few miles from the finish someone held up a sign: Remember, you chose this! Ah yes. I used to supervise a person who, nearly daily, shared that she didn't like her job and didn't like the agency. Listening to her rants got old. Sure, sometimes people need to keep a job they don't like in order to survive, but if you hate it that much, look for something else (or at least stop grousing). I can remember than when/if I'm tempted to complain about something I have a choice about. 

I got together with friends I've known since grade school for our monthly "old codgers" date, with conversations veering between medical procedures, travel, music and traffic, deciding that back in the day we mostly talked about boys and weed (Who has it? Where can we get it?). Looking around the table, three of us are sober (three are "normies"), a couple have hearing aids, one is a widow, three cancer survivors, two are grandmas...  And back in the day, we would've been sitting cross-legged in the park, passing a joint and a bottle of Bali Hai. I so appreciate our history.

Another good friend had a sober-versary last week. As I told them, I love their story, and that they lived to tell the tales. Probably all of us have points in our story where we think, "Oh, that could've gone really badly" yet here we are, getting old, reasonably healthy, sober. And then a dear man I know, but don't see often enough, celebrated 51 years sobriety at our in-person home group this weekend. Wow! We are definitely the fortunate ones - the ones who've stayed sober, who didn't die of AIDS or at the end of a syringe or in a car accident, the ones who've been given this gift of a life longer than would've been expected.. 

I saw my Primary Care Physician this week for a general check up, which involved a blood draw. I very much appreciate how phlebotomy has evolved. 40 years ago, those nurses insisted on trying for a vein in the traditional spots, despite my saying, "That's not going to work. No really, please trust me" after the third poke. These days I can say, "You may not like it, but this is the vein you need to use," and they say, "OK. Thanks for letting me know." It was funny, this time, when I told the person I was 40 years clean, he asked, "So what were you doing 40 years ago?" and we had a little conversation about recovery. 30-40 years ago I was more embarrassed and ashamed. Now, it's merely a part of my history.

Speaking of history, all this 4th of July stuff reminds me of when I left my first husband and moved back (temporarily) into my old bedroom. My brother showed up one day with a copy of the Declaration of Independence, insisting I was declaring my own independence, and that I had the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness (he's a good egg).My pursuit of what I thought was happiness ended up leading me to some very dark places and I appreciated his support for the decision to leave that marriage. (and I'm glad that part of early recovery included redefining "fun" and "happiness" ) 

Has your definition of happiness changed at all over the years? How might you look at your days differently if you reframed "have to" to "get to?" How do you recognize your freedom of choice today?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Willingness

 A sponsee and I read Step 3 in the 12x12 last week with its focus on willingness. I used to struggle with the idea of willingness, which can seem nebulous. You're either doing or not doing, right?  And remember how we prayed to be willing to be willing? So many mental gyrations in early recovery, often looking for an out, a back door, a way to sneak in a little self will...  And then, later that day, a young woman with maybe 6 months sobriety phoned, reaching out because her sponsor told her to call women on the meeting list. Willingness personified. 

What does willingness look like for me in long term recovery? A few weeks ago it meant following the lead of a group member who'd set up an accountability text chain related to her intention to back away from social media. I jumped on the bandwagon and used the group for accountability related to sugar, as in "just because I'm out of town doesn't mean I need to dive into chocolate," texting them from outside the candy store in Seaside while my spouse went in. It worked - imagine that!

I came across a note where I jot down things heard in meetings that I want to hang on to: Remember when you wanted what you have now?  Yes, I do remember. I remember in the way-back time machine, while married to my first husband, thinking about taking classes at the community college, growing tomatoes and having friends that were mine, not just his buddies' wives. Years later, when that simple dream had come true, looking forward to being done with college so I could read books for pleasure. I remember longing for retirement, when the only things on my schedule were those I'd chosen. Check and check. I can sometimes feel my life is too busy, or not busy enough; that I "should" be doing more, that after this or that happens, life will calm down or resume. As I've read, this is life - this doing laundry and reading the news, weeding the garden, planning a trip and taking a trip, sitting on the couch to watch my show, and yes, long and interesting conversations with like-minded others, meetings, my volunteer stuff, walking in the neighborhood. There is no "out there" when "life" will begin or settle down. There is a definite end, but no crystal ball. This very moment is what it is, this very moment of hearing a song from the 1970's that transports me back, this very moment of exchanging texts with my stepdaughter, this very moment of feeding the cats. I've often said I wish I'd paid more attention when I was younger, not realizing how quickly time would pass. Well, hello - that applies today just as much if not more so. Pay attention. Live in this moment. Appreciate the small wonders, like the zinnia seeds I planted a month ago now reaching green shoots towards the sun, the look on my spouse's face when he comes through the door at the end of his workday, my brother calling to share something funny, "good morning" texts from two good friends, rain. As Bonnie Raitt sings (Nick of Time) "Life gets mighty precious when there's less of it to waste." 

4th of July coming up here in the US. I'm not going to dive into "what does it even mean?!" What it means, superficially, is that summer is finally here, and that there will likely be very loud, illegal fireworks in the neighborhood. I will put in earplugs and try to sleep at my regular time, after helping our cats feel safe with the noise. As I wrote about last week, I'll contemplate the freedoms I am privileged to enjoy as a sober person (it won't be me with a hangover on July 5th).

What does willingness look like for you today? Do you remember when you wanted the life that you now have? How can you remind yourself to pay attention to the here and now?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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 tabl

Freedom

A recent meeting focused on the topic of freedom - all the freedoms we gain by putting down the bottle and the bag (and efforts to control other people - that's a tough one!). I've long thought of it as freedom from the insanity of the disease - the hangovers, driving drunk, making decisions based on the next drink - as well as freedom to explore what I might want to do in the world, like go to school, throw a sober party, go for a hike... At first that freedom felt expansive - the whole world had opened up and so much of it felt new and exciting as I left the basement meth lab for road trips and sober dances and into-the-night conversations about this way of life. These days, freedom is definitely one of my values and what I appreciate, and it is quieter, gentler. Today I value the freedom to say "no" to some requests and "yes" to others. I value the freedom and privilege of reasonably good health  and living within my means, the freedom of choice in many areas, big and small. 

And as I recently heard others say, freedom emanates from our design for living. With the Steps as my guide, I don't need to question every single decision. Not always automatically, but the signposts are there. It's only in hindsight I realize I was hungry for structure, an instruction manual. I got the basic rights and wrongs growing up, I know I was loved, our home was fairly consistent as far as dinner on the table and holiday traditions, and as I made my way in the world, drinking and drugging and the resulting hangovers disrupted any sense of the structure I craved. I tried, thinking of times I'd attempt to go through the motions, eventually giving up any pretense of regularity. It's not like that was a conscious decision, and not like I knew myself enough to understand how I best operated in the world. But, there I am, going to bed as the sun came up (oh how I hated the morning birdsong), coming to at noon or later, drinking a protein shake thinking it made me healthy. 

Today I know what keeps me healthy, emotionally and physically. That doesn't mean I don't veer into the dark forest (self-centered fear, pride, ice cream) but it's easier to find my way back. As one of my sponsors brilliantly put it, "It's not all about me, but it is all about me," and my choices. How free do I want to be?

I will say that my new daily 10th Step practice has been eye-opening. Many days are neutral - nothing especially positive or negative, just a day. But/and some days my defenses/defects/characteristics are front and center, the same characteristics I've likely had since I was a kid. Lack of power, that was my dilemma, but too often I forget that, which can show up as judgement, impatience, or the ever-present bossiness. As my first sponsor might've asked, "What are the patterns? What are the motives?" Where have I anointed myself as the one who is "right" when perhaps it's my own self-righteousness that could benefit from a deeper look, an acceptance of responsibility for my side of the street?  As I used to hear in meetings, I no longer have a drinking problem, but I do have a thinking problem! Relieve me of the bondage of self, oh please!

What are the freedoms you enjoy today, whether freedom from or freedom to? What are the practices that move you towards good health, whether mental, emotional or physical? Are you able to cut yourself some slack if you falter? What characteristics do you continue to bump up against? How do you balance between efforts at change and self acceptance?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Dreaming...

 The other night I had a dream. I was in France, standing at a fence/barrier overlooking a raging river. I turned around for a conversation with a friend, and when I turned back, the river had reversed direction and was so gentle and smooth that people were swimming in it. 

What does it mean? Maybe confirming it's a good idea that friends and I cancelled a long trip planned for July? Maybe a general message that I can exchange inner turbulence/worry for calm? Or maybe it was merely what I call, "Jeanine TV," a mish-mash of random thoughts and memories from the day.

Sometimes dreams are just dreams, and sometimes I tap into the archetypal mind, the collective unconscious where the dream does carry a message. When I was a kid, maybe 8 or 9, our family was driving on the old Santiam Pass from Bend to Portland when our car ran over a boulder. My folks got out to investigate and the car started to roll - just a bit, but it was terrifying for me in the back seat. That feeling, and sometimes dreams, of no one being in the driver's seat followed me into sobriety. And then one night, after many inventories and extended outside help, I had the dream. Me and Dad were in the back seat with the car rolling. I indicated that he should get in front and drive - he shook his head "no," and with just a moment's hesitation, I took over - I drove the car. Just a dream, sure, but at the time (and still) it felt like an internal shift. I am responsible for my safety. I can drive the car. 

I've had other meaningful dreams, like asking  my ex to stay, him saying he couldn't, and my learning the next morning that he'd just died. I keep pen and paper near the bed to jot notes as soon as I wake up. I learned years ago that if I wake up with wisps of a dream in my mind, hold very still and review the plot, since moving, even in the slightest, will cause the memory to vanish. Like I said, not all dreams mean something, but many do, if I'm paying attention. 

I have an on-going text conversation with two close friends and this week, the matter of the questions we ask ourselves came up - the big-ish ones, like "should I take this job?" or "is this the right relationship for me?" to smaller ones, like "should  I accept this invitation, take this trip, move?" One friend brilliantly pointed out that perhaps it's a matter of reframing the really BIG questions. For example, instead of asking, "How long before I die?" the more helpful query might be, "How can I best use my remaining time?" My brain often seeks answers, thinking they'll provide insights into concerns that are totally out of my control. Instead of the "what if's" maybe I could re-set to what's here and now. Instead of trying to figure out the unknown, perhaps I could focus on gratitude for what is. My questions are often based in fear of the unknown when what I really wonder is, "At the end, will I feel I've had a good life?" (and if not, what do I need to change to move in that direction?) This one day at a time stuff makes more sense the longer I'm around. 

I participate in a small online fellowship meeting, usually all women, that started in the pandemic and has continued. Someone does a "cosmic pick" from the Daily Reflections book and shares. This week, the chair read April 8, "An Inside Look," that says, "I must look inside myself to free myself." For so long I looked outside myself to define myself, looking for answers in the next relationship, my dabbling in organized religion, seeking some sort of structure. I have the structure I need today as guided by the 12 Steps, not as a straitjacket of "musts" but as a framework. Unsure about a decision? Run it through the Steps; reason things out with someone else; put pen to paper. The same things that worked in 1986, 1999, 2016 still work today.

Do you remember your sleeping dreams? Do some of them come in a language that speaks to you of important things? What questions are you asking yourself, or that come up in conversations with friends? How might you re-word the unanswerable ones in order to get at the core concern? What does the structure of your program, your guiding principles, look like in long term recovery?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Happy Founder's Day

 A topic in one of my meetings this week was the 9th Step Promises, with the reminder "they are being fulfilled among us, sometimes quickly sometimes slowly," not that I, personally, will wake up one day with all having come true for me in that moment. I did have an attitude and outlook change, almost from the beginning. Funny how being sober gave me the energy to live according to my morals and values. I always had a moral compass, but did my best to either outrun it, or ignore the still small voice all together because it just wasn't any fun. Initially, staying true to my values took concentration - those "is this my will or HP's?" questions. Today, without "resting on my laurels," I can rest assured that I have decades of walking this spiritual path, and if the way forward isn't obvious, I have sponsors and trusted others to help me get clear.

The part in the Promises that tends to catch me is "we shall not regret the past." I've often beat myself up for regretting the past, but I've just realized that it is OK to regret the past - not in a morbid reflection kind of way, but as a teacher and a reminder of how I never want to be again. 

Along those lines, I worked a Step 10 with my sponsor last week. She gave me the assignment of doing a formal, written Step 10 each night - not something either of us have done with regularity. I often say that my gut is my Step 10, but I like the idea of noting positives and negatives from my day, seeing which behaviors and attitudes are repeat offenders. I can get comfortable with my old ideas, because they're my ideas - the superpower of rationalization convinces me I'm right. Pen to paper can provide hard evidence of, oh look - this is how judgement shows up, or there is "me, me, me" in living color. Now, what am I to do about it?

What I'm to do is definitely related to Steps 6/7. I had a mini-spiritual awakening as I read about Step 6 in one of my daily meditation books. I'd long thought of Step 6 as me sitting on a lily pad, gritting my teeth, trying to muster enough willingness so that sunbeams from heaven would surround me and vacuum up any character defects. What the reading suggests is that Step 6 is simply about being willing to change. In 1,2,3 I acknowledge a problem that I can't fix on my own. With 4/5 I get a clear(er) idea of what I'm working with - how, specifically, did my behaviors harm myself and others? What is my modus operandi? OK then, 6 is moving, even incrementally, to being willing to change those characteristics that impact my relationships, and then in 7 I'm flat on my back on the floor, looking at the whole of it - the good, bad and the ugly. The prayer asks Creator to remove whatever is in the way of my usefulness, but for me, it's more like, "OK self, I now see where I bump up against the world and its people. Please, let me be willing/self-disciplined enough to pause and do something different, even if just a little bit." And for me, this means that whatever has been troubling me will be in my face. What? Impatience is your problem? Well here's a very long train on your path, forcing you to sit and stew or perhaps sit and think of a gratitude list. Is it judgement? Ah, well, get a load of the person who pushes all your buttons. Your choice - accept them for who they are or internally steam about how they should be. 

My spouse and I spent a couple of nights at the Oregon coast to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. We started in the town of Seaside, at the nooner at the Little Yellow House, where meetings have been held for 40 if not 50 years. We stopped in Cannon Beach for our favorite pizza (Pizza al Feta if you're in the area) before making our way further south to the little town of Rockaway. My step-pop used to have a place there, so we're familiar with meetings in the area, going to the 7pm. We made the group eight sitting around the table, then joined by a couple from Oahu who made it ten.

During announcements, the secretary spoke of a brand-new outdoor morning meeting, first time the next day. What the heck - we're game, so got up early and drove to where we thought it might be, only to go in circles until we saw a Park Ranger who told us of another park with the same name. Rather than tell us where to go, he said, "Follow me!" and headed off (to where we might not have ended up on our own). In the meantime, we'd called the hotline, and because it was so new, the fellow had no information, but said he'd call his sponsor. Just as he called us back with more specifics, the Park Ranger pointed to the Nehalem City park. Thank you, kind sir. Pulling into the parking lot, we noticed a couple of fellows, one young and tattooed, one older, playing frisbee and in the distance, what appeared to be a Big Book on a picnic table. Our people!

The four of us had a magical meeting - the chair had three years, three years of enthusiasm and gratitude. I nearly cried during the moment of silence with the symphony of bird song providing the soundtrack. I reflected on all of the odd little meetings I've been to over the years - the lone fellow on a lawn chair in Drake Park in Bend, OR during the pandemic, the few of us who sat on the stairs of the church for our home group when the secretary didn't show up with the key, the time four of us drove to our friend's family home in Montana, reciting How it Works then having a meeting on the road. In some meetings I see people I know and love. In others, I'm a stranger. Whichever it is, I so appreciate this way of life.

What is your relationship to the 9th Step Promises today? How about Step 6? Are you willing to make the effort to change whatever characteristic/defect/defense that still gets in your way? When is the last time you felt the enthusiasm of a newcomer? How might you reignite your program if it's been a while? On that note, today is Founder's Day, 91 years since Dr. Bob took his last drink. How can you express your gratitude for our program?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Time marching on

 One of my fellow walkers in Italy is a therapist. When she remarked that I didn't look my age, I half in jest asked her if age dysmorphia is a thing. It is. I looked it up when I got home, reading about the Peter Pan syndrome, as well as the general feeling of disconnect between one's internal sense and chronological age, whether that's feeling older or younger than what the calendar says. What I often go back to is, "What am I supposed to feel like?" I once read that while our bodies change over time, our inner self doesn't (though I hope I've matured!), so it makes sense that the reality of X number of birthdays doesn't always match how I feel. I have a poster from the 2014 Portland Marathon that I ran (& walked) in honor of my 60th birthday. As I dusted it off this week, it hit me strangely that the event was now over 10 years ago, a decade. Kind of like hitting 40 years sobriety - how did that happen? Yeah, yeah, I know - one day at a time.

And, one day at a time, I settle back into the current time zone, plant in the garden (inspired by the lovely flowers in Tuscany), eat salads for dinner, connect with my various meetings. This week contains Step work - my own and a sponsee's; Two for them and Ten for me.  I have two active sponsees at the moment (and another "as needed") and each, in their own way, challenge me to look at how I apply the principles of the program. Participating in another's journey provides the impetus to go deeper myself - not in the hope of staying ahead of them (like might've motivated me in early recovery) but as a gentle trigger to ask myself, "How am I living the Steps today?" 

I had lunch with two friends from early recovery on Monday, reminiscing about the crazy fun when we were 30-40 years younger - dances, parties, potlucks galore, when the excitement of sobriety translated into travelling in packs, making up for lost time, marveling at our new lives. And now, we are old women - two of us in meetings, one who stopped years ago; two who live here, one who's left the country, grand kids getting married (wait, wasn't she just a tiny girl?), joint replacements, life on life's terms. I'm coming to a place of being able to appreciate past connections without mourning the losses. None of us are 35 and single anymore. It makes perfect sense that our lives moved on, sometimes one step back and two forward, sometimes hand-in-hand and sometimes off on our own paths. I'm forever grateful to have connected with people who were serious about sobriety, serious and full of fun. Stupid, boring and glum? Hardly

Speaking of time marching on, I ran into a pal of an ex's at the grocery store. He and the ex have started running again, after several years off due to various injuries. It seems like whenever I see people out and about, the conversation invariably goes towards, "Where on earth did the years go?" Where, indeed. A few friends are working and several retired with a few more looking for work, And those of us who are retired are questioning what we thought we'd be doing in our so-called golden years. My house isn't spotless, and I haven't written another novel. How do I think about that? Am I lazy, self-indulgent with my walking events and coffee dates, meetings and Step work? Or maybe, what I thought at one time simply doesn't fit today. In my younger years and the workaday world, there were timelines and aspirations, places to go and people to see. Today seems more about (finally) living in the moment. I don't think there will be a test at the end -  "Oh, you never read War and Peace? Tsk tsk". Any "test" would be in my own heart. Did I live my values? Was I kind to others? Did I follow my dreams? 

How do you feel about your physical age? Does it harmonize with your internal sense of who you are? If you sponsor, how does that relationship inform your own program? How do you honor and appreciate past friendships without drifting into "What if?" land, or "I wish it were different?" If there is a test at the end, what questions would your heart ask?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Coming home...

 In the very early morning hours at the Rome airport, waiting for my flights home to begin, I watched a pigeon soaring through the concourse, seeming to do a loop and then back again. I hope she found her way out. Watching her follow the same path made me think of our recovery saying about doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Are there places I still keep trying what doesn't work, like trying to run the show or thinking I know best for someone else? Always a good point to ponder when I feel myself bumping up against a person, place, thing or situation.

While I was away, a friend asked if I was disconnecting from social media or contact with home in order to meditate while I walked. Not really....  I enjoy posting photos of my days (as I like to follow friends on their journeys), and kept in touch with my husband and a few friends. I remember the days of buying postcards on Day One, searching for stamps and a post office for mailing in the hopes the card would get to the sendee before I got home, along with buying a specific type of card in order to make a payphone call home. These days, other than accounting for the time difference, I can stay in daily contact if I so desire, which can be reassuring as a reminder that yes, I am connected to my life at home, and helpful for my spouse to know I'm getting along fine..

Last year's Camino walk was a celebration - of turning 70 and marking my 40th year of sobriety. This year's trek, shorter though definitely a challenge with very steep hills, was more of an adventure. Members of our group of 12, five of whom I'd met last year, ranged in age from 39 to 80, from novices to experienced trekkers. I appreciated the silent stretches along the way as well as the miles of intense conversation (family, politics, health)., and cheering on those who'd doubted their abilities. Will I do it again, with this particular goal and group? Hard to say. I've found that I do like walking through the countryside with stops along the way. More will be revealed, but for today I'm very happy to be home.

The recent Time magazine had an article describing how people talk less than we used to - we text rather than call, work from home, use the self-check out line at the grocery store, and I'll add my pet peeve - don't say "hello" back when greeted on the street. The article notes a study that measured an average of 120,000 fewer words spoken per year (16,600 words per day in 2005 compared to below 12,00 in 2019) and the personal and social consequences when we don't interact. (Even small talk with strangers was noted as important.) One more reason I'm grateful for our 12-Step programs, where talking is part of what we do - a community of like-minded others where we share what is on our  minds or hearts. 

It's been damp here in the Pacific Northwest as I acclimate back to home, allowing low-energy jet lag to guide my plans. Life goes on, and I can heed the inner voice that whispers, "Relax." To that end, I had a massage this week, in the building that used to house our family doctor while I was growing up. I saw our General Practitioner from about age 8 to 32, through many of my life's pivotal moments. I had pneumonia when I was 13, afraid he'd be able to tell that I'd started smoking. I distinctly remember him telling me, in 1980, that quitting smoking was the best decision I'd made, and then referring me to a counselor as I wept in his office after my dad died. A few years later, before a female-related procedure, I elected to tell him about my methamphetamine use, in case I'd need more anesthesia than normal. And then again, him praising my decision to get clean and sober in1986. He was something of a father-figure, a good guy, a holistic practitioner, and in a slightly removed way, a part of my story. (like the pharmacist who refused to sell me syringes, or that counselor who said she couldn't see me anymore unless I quit using.)

And, the beat goes on. I heard a 5th Step a few weeks ago, and this week, Steps 6 & 7. Such an honor to be trusted, and to be trustworthy. I'm working through the Steps with another sponsee, and with my own sponsor. As someone recently remarked, the Steps have become integrated into who I am and how I approach the world. "The road gets narrower," for me, simply means that I don't have to think too hard anymore about the right thing to do.

Are there areas where you engage in the same way, expecting different results? How can you detach from those old habits? Where, or how, do you feed your need for social connection? Are there people from your past who, while perhaps not directly impacted by your drinking or using, were a part of your story? How has practice of the Steps become more automatic as time goes on?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

Walking, remembering, moving along

 Here I am, in the countryside of Tuscany, walking, walking, walking. On the Camino last year, I discovered the joy and peace of simply walking, with nothing much to decide each day other than what to have for lunch. My life at home isn't all that complicated, but does call for decisions and choices and appointments and obligations - none of which are troubling, and are actually comforting, and being out of the normal routine can feel cleansing, a re-set.

And as I walk, I seek to spend time in contemplation, a walking meditation. I recently read Speaking of Faith, by Krista Tippett, an enlightening book about modern human beings' various approaches to the idea of faith, and how spirituality often gets complicated by the rigors and rules of organized religion. She speaks to the dichotomy of mystery and our desire for certainties, "what we believe we know, and what we can never know for sure in time and space," which she calls a creative tension. Like in our 12 Step programs, it's the tension between action and surrender, letting go and doing the footwork. How to hold the world gently, wear the program like a loose garment? For me, it's related to not expecting guarantees. Dang it. I want to know. I remember saying something to that effect in a meeting years ago, to which another member cross-talked with "What's the fun in that? If I already know how something will turn out, why make the effort?" I often hear or read about staying curious vs fearful. A reasonable goal.

And in the meantime, I walk along a path that pilgrims have covered for centuries, believing that the walking, the destination, would prove their faith. I don't believe in that kind of higher power, the kind that requires me to validate my beliefs, which seem to ebb and flow over time. I can appreciate my connection to humanity, whether to the medieval pilgrim or my own family tree, knowing I have my own path.  

I had a lovely time in Florence on my own for a full day of being a tourist before joining the walking group. Something the Camino experience last year taught me, or rather reinforced, is that I am much more competent than I give myself credit for. I did get "lost" a couple of times, but no big deal as I wandered the lovely streets.

 I couldn't help but remember the first time I was here in 1983 celebrating my 29th birthday without seeing my mother or my cousins, born on the same day, for the first time ever. I was lonely and drunk and argumentative with my boyfriend, who I would've told you meant everything to me, but I sure didn't act like it. I was dreadfully hungover and nauseous walking up the stairs of the leading Tower of Pisa, arguing in a restaurant in Rome, crying when the Trailblazers dubbed in Italian came on TV,  saying, "I just want to be home" hoping that meant he would be home too. It was one of those turning points I didn't recognize at the time, with the realization in hindsight that my sense of home and his were completely different. We went to Cypress where he had purchased an apartment so I could be there part of the year with him, which scared me. I didn't want to be so far from my mom and couldn't imagine what I would do all the time he was in Jeddah working. It was very soon after I got home that I was introduced to the meth cook and my total and utter downfall began. Not that my alcoholism wasn't already in the spiral, but that certainly hastened things along - the darkest period of my life, leading to the awful gift of desperation. 

And...I can follow that painful recollection with the two times I was here with a close friend,  making sober memories. You don't get "here" from "there," they used to say, but here I am. Two people in my group this week have asked about the AA patch on my backpack,  or why I don't drink. It's nice to share a piece of my story, and hear theirs and where we have similarities.  

When I cried myself to sleep in 1983, as the chilling vapor that is loneliness took over, I couldn't have imagined being here, in a nice hotel, having walked 12 miles today,  with my dear spouse holding down the fort at home. I am beyond grateful that my life, my sober life hasn't been limited by my narrow perspectives. Onward!

How do you re-set in your life or your program? What are the strengths you sometimes forget you have? How does your life look differently than you might've thought when you first got sober? Have you forgiven yourself for past mistakes? How about mistakes made in the here and now?

Onward

Here I am, killing time at SeaTac while awaiting my flight to Italy. I like airports - the hustle and bustle of people going here and there, joyous reunions and sad good-byes, the anonymity as well as the potential for camaraderie at the gate or in line at the coffee shop.

I've got my fingers crossed that I get to my destination in time for the 6pm English speaking AA meeting, which will be my only opportunity for 12 Step fellowship as most of this trip will be in small towns, and I'll be traveling with a group. I love going to meetings in other cities and other countries. I often think about a meeting a friend and I attended in Prague years ago where the locals were very hopeful one of us would share our story as they'd heard each other ad nauseum. In Beijing, China we saw a fellow we recognized from home, and in Shanghai, I was asked to lead at the meeting in a fancy hotel conference room - how fun is that? My husband and I shared our stories at our friend's meeting in Belfast when we were there a few years ago...  The fellowship is alive and well all over the world. And I know that travel isn't everyone's cup of tea, but it is part of what feeds my soul. As does then coming home. For me, it's the striving for that ever elusive sense of balance, of adventure and the comforts of home.

When I look at my life in bits and pieces, there have been some very hard times, times I felt that the Universe was misaligned. But stepping back a few feet to look at the whole of it, I have been very fortunate indeed, which I attribute to sobriety. Once, when I was involved with a chronic relapser and  had moved into my old bedroom at home temporarily, my mother expressed her sympathy for my hard life. She was thinking of my father's death, my divorce, the ending of another important relationship, my addiction. I remember pausing a moment in the kitchen, then saying, "Well, actually, I have a wonderful life," citing what I'd learned about alcoholism, my education and career, what I'd learned from the painful episodes. Perspective. Perspective and distance. Time really does heal all wounds. The grief is still there. some memories still sting, but more as reminders than a weight to bear. 

One of my online home groups moved to public from a closed meeting in the last year or so. This week, a newcomer was there, bravely sharing their journey up to that point. Oh man, it was a few years before I could say much more than  my name in a meeting without bursting into tears. I so appreciate how we let each other be where we need to be, whether hiding in a corner, or sharing our tears. Whether I'm sharing my spiel, my "pitch," or what's on my heart at the moment, I find comfort in my seat, my place in the circle. I recently heard a woman with 41 years say she is in more a place of listening than talking. I get it. There isn't much going on these days, though I use the Steps as my daily guide, not just in times of trouble (exhaling). I can certainly create drama, internal or otherwise, but overall, can be grateful for the calmness, knowing This, too, shall pass. I sometimes have a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop, but time and experience have shown me that's not how it works. ODAT I'll be grateful for what today brings, including a very long flight followed by a train ride. Onward!

What makes your heart sing these days? How do you view the whole of your life? Maybe a rollercoaster or a smooth ride?  If you are a meeting go-er, how do you carry the message, either overtly or by example?

Fears

 On a morning walk this week, I passed a stained and funky couch, half on the sidewalk, half on the street. It made me think of the old commercial (for Volkswagen??) where two young guys loaded a discarded chair or couch into their vehicle, realizing just a few blocks later that it was way too stinky to take home. That made me wonder how many people younger than me would get the reference, which made me marginally nostalgic for the days when there were three or four TV stations resulting in a shared frame of reference. Going to school, and those early jobs post high school, we'd talk about the previous night's episode of Laugh-In or maybe the Mod Squad. Never again, now with hundreds of channels and streaming services and podcasts galore.

Which is just one more reason I appreciate our 12-Step programs - the shared frame of reference. My "pitiful and incomprehensible" may look different than yours, but we all know what it feels like to put the bottle or the bag in front of everything we hold dear. Like Dr. Bob said about Bill W - Here was someone who spoke my language. I can go to any meeting anywhere and while the customs might be a tad different, the basic message is the same.

Speaking of language, I'm heading to Italy soon to do a five-day walk along the Via Francigena, the whole of which goes from Canterbury in the UK to Rome. I'm just doing a portion, in Tuscany, joining up with a couple of women I met on the Camino last year after my friend broke her ankle. An adventure! Due to some shifting circumstances, I'll have a couple of nights on my own in Florence up front, and one night in Rome at the end. I've been to Italy, both before and after sobriety, but it's been a very long time, so I've been checking out Facebook groups for tips (like, only use the white cabs that say "taxi"). Most of it is common sense, as in, be mindful of one's surroundings, but I found myself in a bit of a twitch with the "what if's??" Kind of like before the Camino last year, I've been picking up on other people's anxieties, so I made the decision to stop lurking on social media. I am a seasoned traveler. I appreciate specific instructions on catching the train, but don't need everyone's worries about wearing the right shoes, looking like a tourist (I am a tourist - I don't mind looking like who I am; I just don't want to act like a tourist), what to do about (fill in the blank). And, this time next month I will have gone and returned. 

And right on time, from Richard Rohr's daily email (4/30), "Ask yourself regularly, 'What am I afraid of? Does it matter? Will it matter in the great scheme of things? Is it worth holding on to?'” Am I afraid of getting lost, or of looking stupid? Well, I've never been so lost I didn't get home, and there probably are times I've looked stupid, which matters SO much less these day (A. No one is paying much attention to me and B.if they are, to heck with them!). Am I worried about pickpockets (a valid concern in tourist areas)? Well, I've taken the advice of how to care for my passport and cash.  Am I afraid of something terrible happening to me while I'm gone, or to a loved one back home? Well, all I can really do is make sure my papers are in order in case I'm the one with the problem, and remind myself that I can always come home early if needed. Of course, I could just stay home, forever, but don't most accidents happen within five miles of home?

The Big Book tells me what to do with my fears - set them on paper, and then ask if I'm relying on myself rather than the infinite Universe - not a deity on a throne handing out kudos or consequences. More like trusting that this life with its ups and downs has a way of working out. I can stay out of my own way and not manufacture my own misery. 

Last week I heard a Fifth Step, and did Step One work with a new-to-me fellow long-timer. Over the weekend, hubs and I spent time with pals, not in an AA setting, but with the program as the framework for who we are and how we came together. As an Alanon reader reminds me, gratitude is a spiritual elevator, and I so often feel that when I'm with like-minded others.

My faux step-daughter had a birthday this week (we say I'm her pre-step mom, married to her father before he met her mother). For a year or two after her dad died, we were in close contact, now that both of her parents are gone. She lives out of state, and as time has passed, our contact is more sporadic, but I'm grateful for the connection, the connection I certainly wasn't expecting when my first husband and I got back in touch in the few years before he passed. Some of the greatest gifts in my life are the ones least expected, like my actual step-daughter, now a grown woman living her dream.

Time marches on, in my own life and the lives of others. Sometimes, allowing for time zone differences, I'll imagine what my former sis-in-law in the UK is doing - having afternoon tea perhaps? Or what about all the 12 Step meetings that are occurring simultaneously around the world, some in the morning and some at night? So grateful to be part of the solution today.

What do you do to re-center if you feel yourself picking up on other's anxieties or moods? Do you utilize the fears inventory, or some other process when you find yourself focused on "what if?!" ? Who, or what, is on your gratitude list today?

Keep coming back

 I found myself a little teary in a meeting this week as the chair spoke to staying aware of how I make ongoing amends to myself with nurturing actions. After a week of extended "conversations" with chat-bots, a week of attempting to manage outcomes, a week of tuning fork energy, I felt my shoulders release as I thought about a day when I opened a window near the couch in order to hear the rain while I wrote in my journal, or the few moments I sat on the deck after pulling weeds. How often am I conscious of stepping outside the DO NOW imperative? How often do I stop to really notice those little things that bring me pleasure, like clean sheets on the bed, a cup of tea in a favorite mug, the perfect fine point pen? 

I'm thinking of one of my daily readers that reminds me to increase self-care when I'm feeling stressed, when the first reaction might be to skimp - on sleep, on quiet time, on healthy food. And, a tool I picked up awhile ago - instead of going in to Superwoman mode, stop and remind myself that any reasonable person would be stressed if X,Y and Z were going on in their life. And truthfully, it doesn't have to be negative stuff. I can get just as twitchy when positives are on the horizon. Now and always, remember that it's one day at a time, and that right here, right now, everything is OK. Sure, there are things/tasks that need doing, and I'm not in charge of the whole, entire universe (and I can only do one thing at a time).

And I hope I never get to a place where I'm no longer moved in meetings, no longer impacted by hearing others find their spark or share their grief, or describe what I hadn't had words for. Sure, over the years there have been times I thought, "Oh man, not another feeling,"  but I've never stepped away from meetings. Funny enough, when I'm feeling over it, the solution seems to be to go to more meetings, online, in-person, or out of town. I can be tuned out, then suddenly the room seems to levitate with someone's honesty and I think, "Oh yeah. That's why I keep coming back." 

A few times recently I've heard people share that they appreciate we long timers who continue to attend meetings. But, what else am I going to do? Where else will I find such a bond with like-minded others, or have the opportunity to practice the "carry the message" part of Step 12? I know meetings aren't for everyone - some of my favorite everyones don't go anymore - and, this alcoholic needs the human connection, especially with zoom, where I can regularly see people who live in other parts of the country. 

I heard a Fifth Step yesterday - always grateful for the honor of trust, the gift of being present for another's self-exploration. Later this week I'll meet with a fellow long-timer to start through the Steps with Numero Uno - always a wakeup, no matter how long I've been sober. What am I powerless over today? Or more accurately, where am I tying myself in knots with my efforts at power and control?

How do you, or will you, be conscious of on-going amends to yourself with nurturing actions or self-talk? Whatever the task, are you able to do it gently? Whether meetings are your thing or not, where do you find connection? How does Step One play out in your life today?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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

How am I living, today?

 I may have written about this guy before, but I recently saw an online article about Ron Shaich, the founder of Panera and his practice of doing a "pre-mortem," his version of inventory related to aging and thinking about one's end of life. I've read that Buddhists suggest contemplating one's own death regularly. Shaich recommends contemplating one's life, asking whether you'll feel good about how your spent your time, when the end is near. My good friend references that idea when someone we know has passed, saying, "I hope they felt good about how they lived." As I said to another friend, this stuff is no longer academic. I can deny that I'm human, that death is closer than my birth, I can obsess about the end, or I can try for middle ground - aware, realistic, conscious of time passing. If I can't answer "I'm good" to the "Any regrets?" question, is there anything I can do to change my views, my behaviors, my things un-done?

It goes back to the notion of cooperating with reality, which in some ways, points back to the HALTS. Am I tired, either from not sleeping well or just because? Well then, take a nap. Am I hungry, either for healthy food or a healthy conversation? Am I lonely, for people or for my own solitude? Angry (or any intense emotion)? It's so often related to paying attention - not to the triggers in my world, or the world at large (and boy, are there many in the public sphere), but to the still, small voice. Sure, the trigger(s) gets my attention initially, but what is under that? What emotion or longing is trying to get my attention? If I'm fortunate enough to be aware when the end of my life nears, will I be present? Will I have lived with integrity and honesty? Not perfectly, not without the occasional cranky mood or self-centered thought, but generally anchored in the principles of the program? 

I am noticing that I need more time to (metaphorically) catch my breath these days. The days and nights of six things on the agenda just doesn't work anymore. I am naturally energetic, but for a long time in early recovery, part of that was fueled by making up for lost time. As a friend once said, "I got sober to do shit, not just think about doing shit." Yes, and, the definition of "doing" has changed over time. I don't think I'm alone in that. I hear more and more people acutely aware of the passage of time, from a youngster in sobriety to now an old person. I will admit that I tend to think of "old" as someone 5-10 years older than me, but the truth is, I am gratefully old, in both human and recovery years. What am I to do with that?

While reading How it Works in a meeting this week, I thought about a few people in treatment who debated/wondered whether they lacked the capacity to be honest, that maybe they were incapable of being honest with themselves. I doubt they stayed sober, looking for an out before they'd even started. I used to do that - tell myself "I can't" in order to save myself from the embarrassment of failing. Realizing that no one who mattered really cared gave me the courage to take small steps outside my comfort zone, leading to college degrees, marathons, friendships, travel. What are the boundaries of my comfort zone today? No longer two inches from my nose, but what is a restrictive "comfort zone" and what is merely well earned "comfortable?" Again, paying attention. Is fear the underlying driver of my decision, and if so, what am I actually afraid of?  I shared a bit of anxiety about upcoming travel with my sponsor this week, and she essentially said, "It will be what it will be." Oh, right. Me worrying will not impact the outcome, whatever it is I'm concerned about. Turn it over. Get out of the way. Get on with today. 

What might be on your "pre-mortem" inventory? Are there any amends that need doing or conversations waiting to be had? What is that one thing you'd regret not doing/seeing/experiencing were it all to end tomorrow?  (and if there's nothing on that list, congratulations)  How are you getting to know your aging self? What fears and/or joys pop up when you speak about it? How does acceptance play a part in getting older?

 * * * * *

Feeling like an inventory, or a deeper dive into your program? 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