Whatever you may be sure of, be sure of this, you are dreadfully like other people.                                             ~ James Russell Lowell

Ah, how I hated being told, "You're right where you're supposed to be," throughout those sometimes confusing early years of recovery! 30, 60, 90 days, 18 months, the "year of the tear" (2 years), and who can forget being a 3-year wonder? In hindsight, I'm grateful for the markers, and the wisdom of my elders letting me know I was right on schedule, but at the time I was insulted. You don't understand...  Thankfully, they did.

I'm thinking about identity on this sunny January day, prompted by attributes shared about me over my sobriety anniversary, the whispers of "should" that have crept into my consciousness, as well as an old letter I came across from 1978 (age 24) where I tell my then-new boyfriend what I knew about him and what I knew about myself. Twice, alcohol comes up, as in, "I enjoy drinking" and "I lack self-confidence when I'm sober," along with "I have trouble discipling myself" (no s**t). While some of the list is silly ("I have ugly feet") I'm mildly surprised at how much still fits: I don't like hot weather; I love autumn and rain; I want to travel; I keep everything; I need to be alone sometimes. While I may have thought my character wasn't solidified until I got sober, it would seem that at my core, I am who I am and was probably always.

In my "victory lap" meetings, a few people described me as a "rock," and while I pointed out that, rather than a rock, I am an introvert, I do know that I am consistent (thank you, dear Mother). I am a planner; not spontaneous, and I generally do what I say I'll do. I can be bossy (ask the cousins I grew up with), and sentimental. And, while my individual characteristics may be slightly different than yours (or my extroverted spouse's), I am "dreadfully like other people," which is a blessing and a curse - the "we" again and again. 

That being said, I am experiencing something of a psychic rearrangement, an identity shift as I more fully settle into this life of not working. These first seven months have been delightful, a relief, and I've recently felt the whispers of "should," as in I should be more productive, I should be doing more. (Again, I'm right where I'm supposed to be in the adjustment phase.)

The speaker in our Friday meeting said, "'I don't know,' is sometimes the most spiritual thing I will say in a day." That's a tough one, but liberating in the way that Step One is liberating. Surrender. I don't need to know. I don't have to know. I can't possibly know. I can attempt to heed friends' descriptions of being gentle with themselves as they find their way, asking, "What works for me, today?" 

For the last few years I craved  time. Time to do what I want, when I want. Time to actually clean out the fridge, de-clutter the hall closet, time to read a book in the middle of the day or go for a mid-week hike with a friend. What else may rise to the surface? What might happen if I simply sit still (metaphorically!), waiting to see what's next instead of trying to push ahead?

My sponsor pointed out that this is truly a place to let the process lead me. Another good friend pointed out that those she knows in the helping professions are often hard on themselves - the "never enough" syndrome. I'll take a look at that. I can honor the aspects of my upbringing and my own treatment experience that resulted in a calling to serve, while knowing that I cannot fix all the need there is in this world. And, I was reminded that service starts with self-care. 

Going in to this new year, I will take stock of my strengths, places where the edges are a little rough, and characteristics that simple are part of who I am. There is an AA wallet card titled "My Daily Moral (ugh) Inventory" listing personality traits that are liabilities and the corresponding asset, for example Self Pity - Caring for Others; Impatience - Patience; Isolation - Participation, the idea being that nearly every trait can be viewed on a continuum. I can drop the sledge hammer of "should" and move towards self acceptance, using the 12 Steps, meetings, and conversations with trusted others. 

What traits do you appreciate in yourself? If you are in transition (new job, new home, new schedule, maybe a milestone birthday - sobriety or "belly button"), how are you allowing the process to proceed without expecting yourself to be further along the path than you might actually be? How are you being gentle with yourself vs hammering with the "should's"? What does it mean to accept that you are "dreadfully (or wonderfully) like other people?

** Please note the new resource listed: amotaudio.com for free streaming of program speakers as well as downloads and CD's for sale.

~ Just in time for your new year inventory  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). (Price break for locals who can pick up their copy - $15)

My program feels ignited after listening to an amazing New Year's day talk by Lila R, as well as celebrating my 35th year of recovery on Sunday. "Grateful" does not begin to describe the joy I feel at having been given a second chance at life all those years ago.

Before signing on to my home group Sunday, I said a little prayer that I be open to hearing the nice things that might be said. Funny that after all this time I can still sometimes feel like an imposter, the "if they really knew me," stuff. As I settled in to the various shares, I understood that any compliments coming my way were simply a means of paying homage to the program, to the "we" that keeps us coming back and doing what we need to do, one day at a time. And I know that any successes I've had are strictly due to your examples of courage, strength and hope as you deal with life on life's terms. 

As I walked in the rain the other day, it struck me that the worst part of walking in the rain is sitting in my warm home imagining how miserable I'll be. Once out in it, properly garbed, the rain simply is. For me, the worst part of getting sober was standing on the other side of that canyon, imagining how scary or miserable I'd be without a substance to buffer my insides from your outsides. Lo and behold, once over that hurdle of day one, I began to understand that all I really needed was the strength to get through that day, and then the next, and the next. Reality is rarely as bad as I anticipate it might be.

As it is January, I am focused on Step One, the admission of powerlessness, which I'm translating into a daily surrender. I am not in charge, and started my new Step notebook with a list of all that I am powerless over. It can be tempting to simply write, "everything," but I find it more helpful to be specific: the corona virus, my spouse's sleep schedule, my brother's health, zoom vs in-person meetings, the grieving process - and more, including the appalling display in Washington, DC today.

The 12x12 Table Contents describes the admission of powerlessness in Step One as "the first step in liberation." It certainly was that for me. I'd thought I was supposed to be able to control (and enjoy) my drinking, that I was weak-willed for not being able to do so. Thank goodness for Leonard C's instruction that "Will power will not keep you sober, but want power will!" True 35 years ago, and true today. Want power keeps me on the beam.

In her talk, Lila encouraged us to read the literature with passion, like someone who wants "more." As a practicing alcoholic, I always wanted more. As a recovering person, I want more serenity. I want more spiritual connection, more happiness and contentment, more inner peace. I will admit that I am not a Big Book scholar. I tend to skim, focusing on the sections I've already highlighted, a "greatest hits" approach. This year, however, I plan to study the Big Book with journal pages I bought a few years ago  - a fresh start. Who knows what will grab my attention this time through? The eyes I read with at 35 years sobriety are different than my perspective at 30 days, and I value my recovery as much, if not more, today than I did back when I wasn't really sure what I was getting in to. Let me remain teachable. Let me remember that honesty, open-mindedness and willingness are essential however many days I've managed to put together.

What is your frame of mind going in to the new year? What will you do to shake up your program, to keep it fresh? Is there someone who could benefit from your experience, or perhaps someone you can learn from?

~ Just in time for your new year inventory  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). (Price break for locals who can pick up their copy - $15)

 I attended a great meeting this week where a friend pointed out that, while this time last year we had no idea what was coming, in reality, we never truly know what's coming. A global pandemic, a diagnosis, a forest fire, fender-bender, falling in or out of love, losing a pet-companion - we just never know. 

Residing in that place of not-knowing, of daily surrender, is a prime challenge of my recovery. It's that sage advice of keeping my head and my butt in the same place vs time traveling to some distant experience (what I imagine that experience to be). This is similar to a new year's resolution I once heard in a meeting - the vow to only talk to someone who is actually in the room. Right here, right now, is all we really have.

Old thinking tells me that life will be better/smoother/easier when...  things calm down, I leave that job (or start a new one), I get back from vacation (or leave the country), this or that person changes (which they don't), I finish the Christmas candy, the rain stops (or starts) - you get the idea. And, I'm probably not alone in bringing this mindset to the pandemic, as in "life will get back to normal (define as you will) when everyone is vaccinated, when everyone wears masks, when we can leave home without a plan (mask in pocket? where are the bathrooms? who will be there?). The truth is, this looking forward to post-pandemic time is really just a variation on the theme of my life, sober and pre-recovery - looking ahead to the mirage of smooth sailing.  

And it is a mirage. Life is life. I had a wonderful holiday, and spent some time sobbing over those no longer here. I don't really mind "stay home, stay safe," and I mourn the mountain of loss we've all experienced - so many lives lost, plans cancelled, businesses closed, people in line for food boxes, racial reckoning, unfathomable destruction from wildfires, social unrest that still scars my city... this has been hard. Much harder on others than on me, and it is important to acknowledge my own sense of grief.

Which brings me back to my seemingly innate desire to predict, while at the same time, looking to the horizon for better days. These are the better days. I'm sober and healthy, as are my family members. And even when me and mine are up against it, I have the foundations of recovery to walk me through. Even when the world seems to be untethered from sanity, I can choose to focus on the kindness of strangers coming together in times of need, the beauty of one hand reaching out to another. 

Today, I am at peace. Sunshine helps, as does the glimmer of hope leading to the new year. I'm coming up on 35 years recovery, and am looking forward to various zoom shares. I'm looking forward to the incremental return of the light, and re-starting my walking group. I'm looking forward to my appointment with the resale shop, to see how much of my former office-wear they'll be interested in. I look forward to the fresh pages of a new journal and calendars as I create space, psychically as well as physically.

When I was nine or ten years old, Mom put us to bed on New Year's Eve saying, "I'll see you next year!" I started to cry, thinking she was going away, struggling with the concept of one year becoming another while I slept. I can still get in a place of either wanting to stop time, or hurry it up, while amazed that in the blink of an eye, I'm 66 with long term recovery. My challenge in the coming days is to be here, and not put too much emphasis on our arbitrary markers of time passing.

I fully expect to be asleep before midnight on December 31, much preferring early mornings to late nights. How will you spend New Year's Eve or New Year's Day? Do you have a special ritual to help release the old and welcome the new? What do you look forward to in the coming winter months?               ~Thank you, for riding out 2020 with me. Here's to 2021!

~ Just in time for your year-end inventory  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time). 

 I chaired a meeting this week on the dichotomy of feeling like I'm not "enough" while also thinking I know what it is you need to do. The reading I referenced (Courage to Change, July 26) pointed out that my efforts at control are an illusion - I am only in charge of myself. And, as was pointed out in the meeting, the feeling that I'm not ok is illusion as well. 

What stories have I used to justify my actions and dress up my false beliefs as facts? I used to think that I was a defect of character, that I was broken, that the answers to my problems were outside of me - the right relationship, right job, right clothes, etc. Time, Step work, therapy and sponsorship, as well as simply growing up, have walked me down a different path - one of greater self-acceptance and understanding that, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz (which I recently watched for the 1,000th time), "There's no place like home." That which I seek is already in my heart, if I but listen. 

Another old storyline had to do with my ability to fix you. I remember buying a pair of snowshoes for an ex, who had depression, because we went once and he liked it, a rock polishing kit because he admired a friend's collection, and drawing supplies because he'd done that in the past. The illusion was that I could have his "ah-ha" moment for him and, thus, get him off the couch. Like with my dad all those years ago, I thought he'd be ok if I came up with just the right formula. It took our break up to realize my attempts at control (otherwise known as being helpful), trying to arrange the actor and the scenery to my liking, not because I'd been asked to do so. Lessons.

A sub-topic of the meeting was a question I heard years ago: What if god really is running the show? Or, from a secular viewpoint, "What would it be like to fully accept that I am not in charge?" What does it really mean to surrender? Not to an entity, but to the knowledge that I'm ok, that life has a way of working itself out, that if I focus on today, I can walk through just about anything by getting out of my own way.  I had a good talk this week with someone who doesn't know that yet, who has forgotten she simply cannot know how she'll be feeling next February or March or April. "2020" is all I'll say on the topic, as in, "Who saw that one coming?"

Which is the primary lesson I've learned this past year - I can plan, but I cannot predict, having to do with travel and parties and my own growth trajectory; with friendships and meetings and how I will navigate what's ahead. For the past 16-17 years I've hosted a women's Solstice circle where we talk about what we want to leave behind and what we hope to embrace as the new year looms. This year, like nearly everything else, we met on Zoom. I was inspired by our resilience in the face of personal struggles, and our ability to practice the principles of recovery even when things are crappy. I breathed in and exhaled deeply as women shared about letting go of outcomes, the importance of self-care, the gift of focusing on the positive, and the newly honed understanding that I am, truly, powerless over so very much. 

What I'm not powerless over are my actions, my thoughts, or my feelings. (As I've read, I'm powerless over my first thought, but not the second.) Along with how life has changed in the time of Covid, I think about the gifts of this past year: My relationship with my first husband's daughter that continues to deepen and grow, my spouse's recovery from cancer and our redefinition of what matters, the ability to get outdoors, alone and with friends; the gift of our online meetings and long phone calls, the joy of getting and receiving mail. The relative isolation of the pandemic has definitely highlighted the importance of relationships that I took for granted when connecting in person was easy. 

And so, as this year draws to a close, I look forward with hopeful anticipation. In our previous life, a long time member of AA handed out small white "surrender" flags for sobriety anniversaries. Mine rests in a mug decorated with a grid of the London Underground, along with a random collection of pens and dull pencils. Instead of looking past this little banner as I sit at my desk, I will use it as a visual reminder of the freedom I feel when I get to the spiritual place of letting go. 

How are you feeling about the approaching year? What hopes and dreams are quietly tapping at your door? During these darkest days of the year, try to take some quiet time to listen, and perhaps, to write them down.

** Just in time for your year-end inventory  (See the 11/17/20 blog entry  for a chapter sample)

I’ve Been Sober a Long Time – Now What? A workbook for the Joys & Challenges of Long Term Recovery” is a 78 page workbook, 8 ½ x11 format, with topics (such as grief, aging, sponsorship) that include a member’s view and processing questions. Available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 N.E. 20th or online through this blog page. If you would like to purchase online, you will need to go to the WEB VERSION of this page, at www.soberlongtime.com  to view the link to PayPal or Credit Card option.   Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com if you’d like more information. (my apologies, but with the link, you can only order 1 workbook at a time).