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