Respect

 Having worked in a couple of hospitals in the way-back time machine, I've always had respect for nurses, but being a temporary, full-time caregiver has massively increased my regard for those who do this as a job, whether RN's, CNAs, Home Health Aides, and all those caring for a family member. My Alanon sponsor advised that this would be a Master Class in service, as well as self-care. And we're told that the first week or so after knee replacement is the hardest as far as pain, and attention needed. ODAT, applied in a whole new way.

I got out for my first walk two days after the surgery, leaving hubs in bed before his morning exercises and ice session. It was pouring rain when I went out, feeling like Mother Nature is making up for lost time in what was a very dry start to fall here in the PNW. I loved it, remembering sloshy runs and walks, all the way back to my school days (long before all our fancy water-resistant outerwear was available). I'd just read part of an article that talks about nostalgia we may have for our younger selves with the suggestion to question what it was that makes these memories sweet. I have nostalgia for 20 mile trail runs and traveling to do a race ("race" being a relative term). Boiling it down, what I sometimes miss is the camaraderie of training and the sense of accomplishment when done. And as I ponder further, I notice that I don't have anything on the docket, after training to walk the Camino in 2025 and a 5 day walk in Italy in 2026. What will 2027 bring? Knowing I like having something to look forward to - a trip, an event - I can pay attention to what moves me, not in an "I wish someday..." way, but in a "I'd really like to x,y,z. I'll look into what's involved." 

And in the "hmmm" category, as I pondered what I might like to do, and with whom, I got a group message from one of the women I really liked from the 2025 Camino, making plans for next spring. That wouldn't work for me, but I threw out later dates and she forwarded a link to something I'd been thinking of. Interesting timing. Thank you Universe, for reminding me  that when intentions align with my heart's desires, opportunities often show up in unexpected ways. 

Several people I know in long term recovery have recently talked about growing into themselves, about confidence in who they are. Some of that is likely age-related, but I'd say more likely about working the Steps and the growing self-knowledge that comes with each go-round.  At the beginning, I really wasn't too sure about my characteristics, while these days I know which ones trip me up. I hadn't realized that I like structure, or that I'd love going to university. I had absolutely no idea I'd take to running, slow or slower, or that I'd be led to a life-partner after telling myself I was broken in that department. I was only semi-aware that I can be bossy (ask my cousins, with stories of me being large and in-charge from 2nd grade forward) with my own versions of pride and self-righteousness. I'm a future tripper, not spontaneous because I've already filled my calendar. And, both the ups and the downs, the good and the not so great, are part of the deal.

I re-read a piece by Matt Moberg (link to his Instagram below) that had me in tears, inhaling the recognition of the beauty of this life, and how we so often are too caught up in the daily grind of bills and surgeries and politics that we/I fail to look up at the wonder of the moon, the moon that has been rising and setting since long before we were even an idea. May I do my best to stay present today, or to get back to center when I'm tied up in the To-Do list

Thinking about your younger self, are there components to that person you miss? How could you reignite some of those aspects? Self-knowledge is certainly not a cure for alcoholism, but how has self-awareness increased your ability to move through Step 10. And, this being Gratitude Month, what tops your list?

Matt Moberg's Instagram.  (it's a 5 page poem of sorts, too long to cut & paste here) If you're  not an instagram person, you can just google his name and it will come up

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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

Breathing

 As I was leaving my massage appointment last week, another client asked if it was my car in the lot, proceeding to tell me she'd clipped my driver side mirror. She hoped to avoid insurance, so followed me to my auto place (fortunately just a few miles away) to get an estimate, and made arrangements to pay. I was able to get the work done later that day. She thanked me profusely for being reasonable, and I thanked her for not just driving off. When picking up the car, the young tech told me ours was the nicest story he'd heard in quite awhile, and that it restored his faith in humanity. 

The woman's "thank you's" seemed unnecessary. A gift of perspective, gained by years of working a 12 Step program let me see this as an annoyance, and in the grand scheme of things, a luxury problem. No one was hurt, the car was driveable, the culprit has the means to cover the damage. Our city isn't under siege, we aren't expecting tornados, etc etc etc. My first real job after recovery was at a large insurance company. I'd usually get to work early, making my rounds to pick up files for the day. A co-worker once remarked, "How do you stay so happy?"  I wanted to say, "Because I hit my knees every morning and thank god I'm alive," but probably said something more generic. But really, as the Big Book says, we have recovered - why wouldn't we be happy, or at the very least, relieved? Which takes different forms on different days, but oh man, it could've turned out a whole lot worse.

And so, hubs knee surgery was yesterday and all is well, with pages and pages of instructions for pain  management and exercises. Last week I shared my worries in my Alanon meeting. Another member's spouse is in line for the same surgery, and they shared how being a caregiver can be stressful. Yes, triggering my old, very young fears about doing "it" right, feeling responsible for another's well-being. I do have some responsibility (the medical team has made us aware of that!) and I can only do what I can do - monitor meds, exercise reminders, driving to physical therapy...  One day at a time, we can both strive to trust the process (and his medical team). The procedure was successful and we're told the first week is the hardest. We can do, and have done, hard things

As always, I aim to stay aware of being in this moment, here and now. I had time to take a walk the morning of the procedure and at one point found my mind two weeks in the future - will I be able to join my walking group? Will dinner plans with friends need to be rescheduled, and on and on. I was able to rein it in, reminding myself of what a treatment counselor said years ago: What time is it? Do you know where you're sleeping tonight? Have you had enough to eat today?  Well then. Right here, right now, all is well.

How does the perspective(s) of long term recovery inform your day-to-day life? What do you do if you catch yourself turning an annoyance into a catastrophe? How do you bring yourself back to the moment, to this breath, when your brain is in race-mode? How do the Steps help you get re-centered?

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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

Imperfect Prophets

 Whatever the actual topic was, conversation in a recent meeting wound its way to the balancing act between self-acceptance and holding oneself accountable, surrender and taking action, along with the ever present reminder to be honest with my motives. That part was reinforced in one of my daily readers - am I doing good/being nice/volunteering out of genuine desire to be of service, or am I looking for kudos? Am I saying "yes" to others in a way that equals "no" to myself? Valid questions, and one more reason to employ the pause.

On another note, Bill D, a member of our Now What community, has written a book about Hank Pankhurst, a pivotal founder of AA that we don't hear much about. Hank is the person who steered Bill towards "God as we understand God" or as I say, don't understand, and championed inclusivity. And he relapsed, dying from the effects of alcoholism, buried in a pauper's grave. For more info and/or to purchase the book, go to: http://imperfectprophets.com (Click Hank's photo on the main page for an "at cost" discount) 

Relapse is an interesting and sometimes painful topic. Does one "lose" whatever insights gained during periods of sobriety? Do people start over from when they drank, or from zero? A lot of people with long term recovery had slips or lapses before this thing took. Does the person with a "one and done" date differ from the person who struggled? 

In my experience, or rather, from my observations over the years, the more times one goes out, the harder it is to come back. I do believe that chronic relapse changes the brain, the ability to make healthy decisions, but that is me on the outside attempting to look in, trying to understand the person who can't/won't/doesn't stay sober. Then again, what is "success" in AA? On-going sobriety, or the "keep coming back" no matter what? 

In thinking of my own decision to go to treatment, with absolutely no expectation or desire for ongoing sobriety, I did some kicking and screaming, some "Don't tell me what to do!" But I now wonder if some of that was performative, habitual. There was definitely fear of the unknown, but/and underneath the false bravado was a tiny shred of hope that life, that my life, could be different. At the moment, that meant different  than sticking a needle in my arm and hanging out with ex-cons. Over time I saw that to also mean different than wishing and hoping, different than making my relationship my higher power,  different than being scared to step beyond my comfort zone. I'm thankful I listened to the still, small voice that whispered, "Just see what happens if you say 'yes'".

Just see what happens if you sign up for a class at the community college, apply for the job that feels bigger than your abilities, say "What do you mean?" when your then boyfriend talks about taking the next steps. Just see what happens when a friend says, "We should run a marathon" or "I'd like to walk the Camino" or when an opportunity for service comes up. Just see what happens when I get out of my own way, my own ideas of how things "should" be. 

Speaking of seeing what happens, my spouse is having knee replacement surgery in a few days. The work-leave paperwork is done, pathways in the house cleared, bags of ice in the freezer, schedule cleared. And now we trust the process, trust his medical team, trust that "this too shall pass." As with all things, this isn't something he/we need do alone. SO many people have had the same procedure, and not one has said, "I wish I hadn't done it." And... like so much of life, at this point it is an unknown, it being the procedure and the recovery process. My brother wondered whether the pain meds would be an issue. I don't think so. My husband works a strong program and is talking about what's happening, and ODAT doesn't need to be a martyr but plans to wean himself as soon as reasonable (and is talking with trusted others about the medication like we're told to do.) In the meantime, I can create space in my calendar and look forward to this enforced quiet month, with home time, driving to physical therapy appointments and being the drill sargent for at-home exercises (the loving and compassionate drill sargent, that is!)

I shared at a small zoom meeting out of northern California yesterday - a really nice group of people. I found my eyes watering with the reading of How It Works. I've heard it, and read it myself, probably thousands of times, yet sometimes the enormity of what it was like and what it's like now hits me. I can whine about this or that circumstance, feel anxious about perceived lack of control, etc etc etc and I am no longer a shivering denizen. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

How do you hold yourself accountable without beating yourself up? Do you remember to check your motives before making a decision, big or small? What is your experience of relapse, your own or someone elses? How do you express gratitude in your daily life?

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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

Book website: http://imperfectprophets.com (Click Hank's photo on the main page for an "at cost" discount)

Muddling through

 As we flew back from our visit with family, I half-listened to the flight attendant instruction, thinking I know enough (though I do pay attention to exit door and floatation descriptions!). What struck me this time was the stern warning that there is no smoking on the plane, including the toilets, where there are smoke detectors. And while I do remember smoking my lungs out on flights, I was hit with gratitude that I don't have to tap my fingers in a nicotine fit on a plane. We often hear the word "freedom" as applied to recovery. Yes, yes and more yes - freedom from drugs and alcohol, from tobacco, from the active addict. Do I have my dependencies? Sure - caffeine, a sometimes unhealthy relationship to sugar - but nothing that would have me hiding in an airplane toilet to take a few drags.

On my morning walks, I often cross a street where one of my early sober roommates grew up. Ruth was literally my mother's age, so between me, at 31, our other roommate at 22 (?),we were the odd squad, wildly enthusiastic about the new life we were now living. I miss Ruth. She succumbed to tobacco related illness a number of years ago now, but I'll always remember our shared laughter. And regarding shared love and laughter, this week was the 14th anniversary of my mom's passing. Sometimes I'm hit with a wall of fresh grief, but this years feels more like a sweet acknowledgement. 

I stopped at a friend's today to pick up a pile of medical equipment related to my spouse's pending knee surgery: a walker, crutches, a toilet riser and grab bars. We laughed at the things we now borrow, as opposed to the cute dress or the latest album when we were young. I'm a little apprehensive about the recovery period, but very grateful for good insurance and his good overall health, side benefits of sobriety. And as my Alanon sponsor pointed out, for me, this will be a master class in service and in asking for help. In the meantime, I'll continue to muddle through the piles of paperwork, glad for a background working in hospitals and at insurance companies. The proverbial "they" don't make this stuff simple!

Just for today, I will take a deep breath and do what's in front of me. I will remember that I can't take care of anyone else unless I'm taking care of myself. HALT = hungry, anxious, lonely, tired, with hungry, tired and anxious the prime triggers for my less-than-stellar characteristics! 

Which of the HALTS is your major stumbling block? How do you stay ahead of the creeping discomforts? (It was years before I realized I'm at my best if I always have a snack on hand). What does freedom mean to you in the realm of long term recovery? What is your relationship to your grief these days? How are you able to be gentle with yourself when sad feelings arise?

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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

Trust

 Before my New Mexico getaway, I was privileged to attend an online workshop with Sister Bea, a recovery treasure at 91 years old and 47.5 years sobriety. Ah, the wisdom that comes from those years, and what a sweet surprise to hear that she struggles with the "pause" just like I do. How often do I wish I could grab words out of the air as they leave my lips? Thank goodness for the 10th Step, and for "reasoning things out with someone else" but would be so much simpler (and kinder) if I could do as Sister Bea recommended in a little song (to the tune of "Found a Peanut") Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut...

Speaking of northern New Mexico - it was great spending time with a good friend in those wide-open spaces, with incredible vistas of big sky and mountains, and aspen just beginning to turn autumn gold. At one point, looking out near the Rio Grande Gorge, I thought of Bill Wilson's question - "Who are you to say there is no God?" I can access, or strive for a spiritual connection wherever I am, but for me, there is no denying power(s) greater than myself  (however I do or don't define that in the moment) when observing nature's glory. Can I draw on that sense of serenity when I'm in the midst of the To-do list, or in traffic, or on hold with one entity or another? It's a choice, though it doesn't always feel like it when I'm on that last nerve...  

This is a month of short vacations, this week going to visit the in-laws as well as our AA home-away-from-home-group family. I love our connections over time and space, kept current with the wonders of zoom. Yes, I bemoan technology (we're still working on connection issues) and I love that I can see friends from around the country with the push of a few buttons. 

I've got several medical things coming up - two routine checks and a new diagnostic procedure (when did I get so  many "-ologists?!" I am so very grateful for good insurance, and a general feeling of well-being. I also appreciate being raised by a mother who didn't ignore health issues, but also didn't overly focus on what might be wrong. Her mother was a devout Christian Scientist. When she was nearing death, my mom sadly said, "You don't look like yourself" with Grandma chastising her, saying "You know this body isn't who I am," referring to her belief in her divine soul. Along those lines, I just watched Come See Me in the Light, the documentary about poet Andrea Gibson's cancer journey and death. She battled with fear and acceptance, identification with her body and with her soul, and the love shared with her wife that continues even though she is gone. Which is a long way of saying that today I will trust the process, and my stellar and very funny doctor, ODAT. 

The reality of powerlessness has been present for me lately (always?). How do you get or stay centered in a place of acceptance while striving to change the things you can? Are there places in your world where you feel the higher power(s)? How do you shift to trusting the process when the first instinct might be efforts at control? 

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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

spiritual freedom

 One of my daily readers spoke to "spiritual freedom" this week - the inner freedom that is available to me no matter the outside circumstance. All I need to do is hold still, get quiet within to hear the still, small voice, that may not be a voice at all. I say "All I need to do" as if it is easy, as if I don't forget, daily, to get out of my own way and release the illusion of control. 

An example: I tend to get edgy, a little cranky, when my environment is messy (which is too bad, because I'm not the world's best housekeeper!). These past two week have been chaotic with on-going internet issues and moving dusty furniture and items around for carpet work. Knowing that about myself doesn't necessarily mean I naturally move towards self-care, towards getting centered. It takes awhile, still... And yes, I'm very aware these are "No whining on the yacht!" problems, but knowing that doesn't stop the tuning fork energy as I, again, contact the internet provider, and look at the piles of books, etc, wondering how to rearrange our space so that I don't feel claustrophobic in our home.

My brother is a minimalist (if you don't count his recorded music collection), once asking his wife to box up, or donate, all their kitchen ware save four plates and four sets of cutlery. OK, I kind of get that, though it would make for a lot more dishwashing at our house. He's kept many of her favorite items ( a few tea sets, little cat statues) and weekly buys a flower arrangement for the house in her memory. And, he's slightly appalled at what he sees as too-much-stuff when he comes to feed our cats when we travel. I'll never live as starkly as he, or as another friend who frequently moves and takes very little with him, but/and there is something to be said for simplicity.

Which points me to "Keep it Simple," both in my program ("Don't drink and go to meetings" still works for me) and in life in general. When working, I used to do food-prep for the week on Sundays, and still lay out my walking gear the night before, knowing the less I have to think about (regular) tasks, the more time I'll have for life in general. A past sponsee once said she thought of structure as constricting, but came to view it as a means to more freedom. I have more time for enjoyable stuff if I don't have to search for a clean pair of socks.

This week I'm visiting my good friend in the Land of Enchantment (New Mexico), here to attend the yearly San Geronimo Day festivities at the Taos Pueblo - ancient ritual in the glorious high desert as aspen leaves turn to gold. As much as I love the glories of home, and my daily routines, I very much love a change of scenery

What slogans are your fall-backs? How do you seek, and then recognize spiritual freedom? How do you consciously stay out of your own way?

Shifting seasons

 A cousin on my mom's side, who's lived on the east coast for decades, was in town last week, giving me the opportunity to pass on our grandmother's sewing basket, and a few photos from the 1920's. My mom was the saver of the four siblings, which means I have a lot - grandma's desk, with the little cubby holes for mail, photos (mom's grandfather was a photographer) and various small items. A lot of mom's stuff went to the Museum of the Oregon Trail, and I'm now glad to have identified a second relative who's interested in family history. 

And speaking of mothers, in one of my regular groups this week, someone shared about her mom's recent passing, and the question, "Who am I without my mother?" That brought tears to my eyes, now 10+ years since my mom died. This mother-stuff goes deep, whether it was a positive, negative or complicated relationship. When Mom first went on hospice, a meeting acquaintance pointed out that the journey of letting go is similar for us all, but very personal, depending on our relationship. And, what I learn from others, is that the relationship doesn't really die even though the person is gone. 

In another group, the topic was transition, along with downsizing as a friend prepares to move to a different city. Oh man - that one hit home as we prepared for carpet cleaning, which involved moving stuff off the floor - stuff, stuff and more stuff, including lots and lots of books, some read, some likely never will be. When my mom died, I ended up with three bookcases my brother didn't want. three bookcases just asking to be filled. One has mostly cookbooks, which I rarely open, another has a row of spiritual volumes, from my grandmother's Bible to the Koran to Rumi poetry, and another is chock full of recovery literature. I stopped buying books a few years ago (thank you public library) and am in that place, again, of asking myself, "If I moved to a one or two room assisted living place, what would come with me?" And yes, this is a recurring theme. I have to do a mini-10th Step with myself, asking "So how long are you going to complain about x,y,z before making a change?" Sigh...  how long, indeed.

Ans so, as the season changes (welcome autumn!) I will consider how this time of the planetary shift might open the door for a personal re-set. I've signed up for an adult "life long learning" program, with my eye on a few offerings, my seasonal elections work will begin soon, a couple of short trips on the docket, and, yes, piles of "stuff" to go back on the shelves when the carpet guy is done. I want to be more deliberate in my choices, both with physical items and with my time, as in how and where to spend this precious resource. What moves my Joy-Meter these days? Am I spinning-my-wheels busy, or busy with tasks and engagements I enjoy? I vow to pay closer attention to my gut, to my heart, one day at a time, one choice at a time.

What have you learned from loss? Has that shifted, as a person in long-term recovery? How might you utilize the energy of the season shifting to determine if any changes are in order? What moves your Joy-Meter today, and is there a reasonable balance between that and all the things that need doing?

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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

We can do together...

 We were in internet purgatory for a week and a half, which involved lengthy phone conversations with robots and humans, changing appointment times, spotty connections, blah blah blah. Due to the type of phone plan I've had, and going over my allotted minutes, I temporarily turned my smart phone into a dumb but serviceable phone only (calls and texts). I'll live, obviously, but my discomfort is an excellent indicator of how accustomed I've become to having a brain in the palm of my hand. As much as I complain about technology (more accurately, my lack of knowledge) I very much appreciate being able to check the weather in Timbuktu, describe a symptom to Dr. Google, or throw in a few words from the Big Book to learn what page the passage is on.

Luxury problems abound, depending on where I steer my attention. Is it "me, me, me - wahhhh!" or can I shift to "Ah, well, now I have more time for reading/gardening/playing with the cats"? I can turn just about anything into a "problem" or  I can focus on the MANY positives in my day. Bottom line, I am alive, sober and reasonably healthy, today.

I mentioned that I ran into the best man from my first marriage at the grocery store. I posted our picture, and, as expected, got many comments from people we grew up with. As a friend once pointed out, he grew up in a small town, while I grew up in a neighborhood - a neighborhood that encompassed our high school and the 8+ feeder grade schools full of  baby-boomers. Many of us stayed in the area, or our parents did, so it makes sense that I so often see those from "back in the day" at the store, or sometimes out for a walk.  

It's kind of like that in AA, with "neighborhood" defined by area of town and meetings attended (before or after covid). We share meeting lore, from old-times to newcomers and everyone in between, like the stellar Saturday nooner where many of us were watching The Sopranos on TV, often quoting from that week's episode in our shares, or dinners after the Friday meeting where we'd laugh so hard we could barely eat. And then there were 6 of us from that Friday group, plus 1, who went to Paris, with 4 of us running the marathon. I can remember shares from long ago, bits of wisdom I carry forward, sometimes conjuring the one who shared who's now in the big meeting in the sky (or is nowhere, depending on your belief system). 

So, yes, I love the neighborhood aspect of our program, but also the anonymity that has me relating to someone I've never seen before. A fellow chaired our group this week that I didn't know, and if I'd seen him out and about, wouldn't have recognized him as "one of us." I love how we can go incognito, out living our lives as people in recovery. Of course, there's the guy with the NA keychains hanging off his belt, or the young woman I saw at a race with "I've been clean for 6 months" on her t-shirt, but usually we're just going about our business, then sharing stories around the metaphorical campfire when we gather.  

And the whole thing about "we do together what we can't do alone" keeps coming up. This week was now the second time I was asked to sign as witness to a friend's end-of-life planning documents, and as I've shared, several times I've helped a program elder move into assisted living. I've shared details of my cancer journey with those newly diagnosed, just like I reached out (reluctantly) and someone shared with me.

I recently unearthed a book I "borrowed" from our grade school library called Put Your Best Look Forward. Originally written in 1957, it was outdated by the time I got to it in 1966 or 67, but I was so hungry for guidance that just about anything would do, even this book that had very un-feminist advice about how to develop "feminine allure" (Geez, I was 12...) with instruction on diet and exercise, having a pleasant voice, make-up - the whole shebang. Couple that with pop songs of the day (as in "I'm nothing without you") and no wonder I was thirsty! Back then I didn't know I could ask for help or advice - from Mom, friends, friend's older sisters, etc. Again and always, so grateful that I've learned I don't have to figure it all out on my own, whether that's silly, like asking a glamorous neighbor how to wear a particular scarf, or more seriously, how to walk through mine or a loved one's illness. Oh how I used to complicate things...

Who are your go-to's for life advice or support? How do you feel about asking for help these days? How might you move the meter to gratitude if you find yourself in a snit?

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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

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?

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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?

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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?

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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