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? 

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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