Trust

 In the daily reader, Beyond Belief, by Joe C, the February 9 entry notes that we share in meetings, not so much for others, but for ourselves. "When we express ourselves we are having out-loud conversations with ourselves. If we are authentic, new realizations flow in real time." As I've often said, sometimes in meetings I hear what I need to hear, and sometimes I say what I need to hear, the magic of the unscripted - often silly but sometimes profound. And I never know until it happens.

The other day, in one of my in-person meetings, I heard just what I needed to hear about staying in the moment, with the reminder that fear takes me out of today. Boy howdy, does it ever. As a well-practiced future tripper, staying in the moment can be a challenge, though I understand the value. 

I had a biopsy on Tuesday, not unpleasant in and of itself. And now the wait, the limbo of wondering whether the thing that showed up on my scans is benign or malignant, and in either case, what is to be done? We're frequently reminded in meetings that learning to be comfortable with discomfort is a primary task of recovery - not just in early sobriety, but always. I'm certainly not contemplating an escape via substances, but how else might I check out or try to outrun my tendencies towards prediction? Coffee, beyond my daily half-caf cuppa, is an option, though any more than my usual tends to upset my stomach. Same with sugar. My mom died in a long past October, just as Halloween candy was on the shelves. At that moment, and for a few months, I was defenseless, stuffing my emotions with chocolate. I don't think that would work today, as I'm way more aware that one is too many and a thousand not enough.

What if I practiced the truth that the only way through is through? What if I practice what I know is a pressure valve, like a walk in Forest Park, or my own neighborhood, a coffee date with good friends, journaling, inventory? What if, instead of running, I held still, paying attention to both the still, small voice as well as those who've traveled this path.

My sponsor wished me the energy of curiosity and faith. Faith is easy - faith that all will be well, even if it isn't; faith that I can do hard things; faith that a bunch of people have my back; faith in my as yet to be identified medical team. Curiosity? That takes some thinking. Curious about what's next, without obsession, curious about the arrows pointing to my core beliefs (the "It'll never happen to me" stuff), curious about my body and healing and what this little (big?) wake-up call could mean? 

For starters, on a practical level, my vague intentions to get my desk in order now seems like a priority. What of other, more nebulous intentions? Do I really, truly want to visit India, or is that mere fantasy? What about any lingering or new hopes and dreams? Many years ago, the therapist I saw after my dad died gave me a worksheet titled, "Everything You've Ever Wanted To Do" with the idea that writing something down with intent could equate to manifestation. This was true in some cases. Well before getting sober, I wrote I wanted to walk on the Great Wall of China, and a couple of decades later, ran a half-marathon on the Wall. Some of the things on that list fell off - my dad was right about not buying a beach house, with his belief you'd then be tied to going to that one place needing repairs - and some things have been added. I've long said I don't have much on a bucket list, but now that I've settled in to retired life, are there any longings simmering to the surface, just waiting for a bit of attention to rise to the top?

I won't know anything more on the biopsy until next week. Annoying, and an opportunity to simply get on with life, in the garden, visiting a friend, lunch with Mom's 93-year-old cousin. I will note that growing up in 12 Step programs, one of my coping mechanisms is sharing in meetings, so I've been talking, in either vague or specific terms, about what's going on. What I'm seeing, and have learned from others earlier on the path, is that there are a lot of opinions and experiences out there. Yay, and I get to choose what I listen to, as in "take what you like and leave the rest." 

Some very helpful indirect comments in a recent meeting helped me get back on the beam - the reminder that if the Universe, Spirit, Whatever, lifted the compulsion to drink and use drugs, the same energy can help me walk through whatever is ahead. I may not believe in a deity on a throne, but I do believe in the fellowship of the spirit, yours (and my) example of lives changed from despair to hope, one day at a time.

How do you practice staying in the moment when your insides say, "Run!" How do you practice self-acceptance for the whole of it, the positives and not-so-much? How do you discern the differences between "take what you likes" and leave the rest? What might go on your list of "Everything I've Ever Wanted to Do"?

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See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample of the "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" workbook with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. Available in PDF format for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Focus

 One of my daily readers tells me "There is a spiritual reason for everything." I'm not buying the implication that the Universe is so ordered as to blast out lessons to each and every human on the planet. I do, however, believe that there are opportunities and choices inherent in what happens in my daily life. For example, I can keep my nose in the phone while the young guy replaces my windshield wiper blades, or can initiate conversation, a brief and pleasant connection. I can freak the "F" out over medical questions, or use tools of the program to calm the inner rattle.

It's funny - it used to sort of annoy me that my mother, who rarely talked about physical limitations, did so in her final few years. And now I find my long-term friends and I doing the same - Medicare and procedures, this ache or that pain. I now realize that we humans tend to talk about what we are doing, what is most present in our lives, and for many, aging brings noticeable change - humorous if we can share it with our peers. I don't especially welcome this over-focus on my blood pressure, diet, sleep or lack thereof, although in my running days, I was very aware of every slight muscle twinge, so I suppose it's merely a matter of perspective. 

So, where is my focus to be? On the narrow this-is-how-I-feel-in-my-body or the glory of sunrise? The numbers on the blood pressure cuff (important but not obsessively so) or the green shoots starting to appear in the garden? In the book, The Invitation, by Oriah, she says (and I paraphrase) that she's not interested in your GPA or income level, doesn't care about where you're spending the month of January or where you picked up that stunning little purse. She wants to know what you dream about, what wakes you in the middle of the night, what or who are you longing to become? She wants to know what scares you, and where you go when you feel frightened and alone. In essence, she asks, "Who are you?" And isn't that what recovery is all about? Who am I when the labels are dropped?  Wife, sister, former professional, friend, AA member, fill-in-the-blank... 

I used to be fearful of those moments just before sleeping, when there was no one in my mind but me and the still small voice. I was fearful, because if I really listened, I'd hear the voice whispering, "So what exactly are you doing with your life, you with that highball on the bedside table, you with the coke mirror in your underwear drawer, you with the massive hangovers?" I knew, even before I knew, that if I truly paid attention, I'd have to do something in order to make peace with myself, and at that point, I had no frame of reference for what that might be. So, I'd take another slug of whatever booze was on the table, hoping to fall asleep/pass out to Johnny Carson on the TV. In the cold light of day, I could distract myself with the hangover, with breakfast, with the ever-shrinking to-do list, but at night, it was just me and my thoughts.

I don't fight those nighttime demons today. Long term sobriety has given me the gift of myself, pretty much the same no matter who I'm interacting with (though I must admit I cuss more with my friends than in other public places). As time goes on, I do sometimes wonder what kind of old lady I'll be - funny, cranky, daft? Ha ha - maybe I'm already there, and a little of each! I do know I'm not great with small talk, never have been. Every conversation doesn't need to be about our innermost thoughts, but at least some of them do. Maybe that's part of why I appreciate meetings so much - it's where I'm privileged to hear your hopes and dreams, fears and joys. 

I had the opportunity to spend time with good friends this past weekend, with a couple of exceptions, friends I haven't seen in person for three years. I'd forgotten just how sweet it is to sit around a table with people who know me, people I've shared meetings with for decades. We are definitely not a glum lot, though can seriously and sincerely walk each other through hard times when needed. I have a few such groups, from school confidants, to the interstate fellowships I participate in via zoom. Long term recovery and long(ish) term life bring gifts I hadn't known I'd wanted. And I hope I always remember that, especially on days that might veer towards the negative. I don't need to live in Pollyanna Land, but as was pointed out in my monthly Step Group when we started to moan a bit about aging, this life is a gift. I could've died at the end of a syringe, or behind the wheel or any number of other alcoholic ends. This aging journey is unexpected and untraveled (by me, anyway), either an adventure or a trial. Again, perspective, which can shift on any given day. Would I rather be running 10-minute miles on steady knees, with blood pressure below 120? Sure. And, how will I make friends with this process, this unmapped terrain? I can listen and read about others' experience, but like with recovery, the journey is mine to make, one day at a time.

Where is your focus today? Work/finances, romance or relationships? Physical concerns or maybe other people? Is that where you want to spend your emotional energy? With the noticing, can you shift your focus just a bit? When someone asks, "How are you?" how would you answer today?

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See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample of the "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" workbook with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. Available in PDF format for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

Respond vs React

Last week I had a routine health check. At the time, it felt like the tech was distracted, so I half expected to get a call to come back for a re-scan, which came this week - a stellar opportunity to practice the principles in all my affairs.

Even semi-expecting the call, my brain hit over-drive with the "what if's," pinging from total trust to thinking about where I'd want to travel before I die. Grateful for good insurance and an anticipated positive outcome jumping to thoughts of surgery and my elaborate, heartfelt funeral. Sigh. Normal, I was reminded by close friends, and... I am a believer in positive thinking, so have been doing my reasonable best to rein in the catastrophic obsessions. Feel the feelings while remembering that feelings aren't facts (being mindful of my tendency to move directly into competent mode). Stay in TODAY, since the re-scan appointment isn't for another week. And, I'm guessing that my provider gets lots of worried phone calls as the notice about results was quickly followed by a letter telling me that this doesn't mean I have the dreaded "C" word (cancer). 

I'm reminded, again and again, that the tools of the program aren't just for dealing with sobriety itself. First Things First, One Day at a Time, Easy Does It, to name just a few bumper sticker bromides, have been useful when I've dealt with work stress, grief (pending and actual), friends and relationships. Truths are truths, and a benefit of long-term recovery is that I've had a lot of practice in reaching for the phone instead of a drink. That reaching before thinking myself into a corner isn't always automatic, but the time and distance between react and respond is shorter these days.

I will say that thinking about death, as in mine (which Buddhists say we should do regularly), does prompt a list of all the things undone. So what, if I'm not here? Well, many years ago I was told to leave my desk as if I'd be hit by a truck on the way home - morbid, but a good reminder that someone else may need to finish something I started, whether a discharge summary at work, or paying the yearly homeowner's insurance. I'm the bills person in our arrangement, and I like to think I'm organized, but sometimes even I can't find what I'm looking for. I'm reminded of an ex's dad who was at a total loss when his wife had a stroke. My ex had to teach his dad how to run the washing machine and make iced tea. That is certainly not the case for me and the hubs, but like in the workplace, it's never a good idea when only one person knows how to do something.

Pre-recovery, I remember the sense of impending doom (probably because doom was pending), that sense of fear that I'd die before I'd ever really lived. In the exaltation of pink cloud sobriety, I thought, "OK, you can take me now - life is good," finally feeling like I was growing in to myself, though I will say, thoughts of mortality carry a different weight at 68 than they did at 38 or even 58. Life is short, seeming shorter and shorter as the years go by.

As I've sat with my fears, that tug of war between trusting and scared, I'm realizing the part of me that feels small can think, "Ah, see - the other shoe has dropped" or that there is some sort of higher power keeping score and I've had too much good stuff so it's time to even it all out. I know that isn't true, and, part of me believes that if I simply live a good life or pray the right way or go to a lot of meetings that life on life's terms won't happen to me - that I'll sail along unscathed until I die in my sleep after turning 100. Nothing like a slight tug on the rug beneath my feet to expose magical thinking. What does it say in the Big Book? That it's ok to keep our head in the clouds as long as our feet are firmly planted in reality? 

We had a counselor in treatment who often said, "Oh well!" to our complaints or whining. Bad news? Bad luck? Bad decision? Oh well. Oh well, as in "You'd best accept reality and move on." Oh well, as in "What made you think you could bypass life's ups and downs?" Oh well, indeed.

If everything that happens is a learning opportunity, I'm there. One of my daily readers tells me that "Waiting is an action." My usual M.O. is to keep moving, but in this case, there is nowhere to go. Nowhere but the rooms, my journal and my friends, one day at a time. And I'm a firm believer in the "Name it, claim it, tame it" club. After sharing in a couple of meetings, talking to trusted others, and writing this post, as well as having a good cry, my fears have essentially lifted. Today is today. I'll deal with the rest of it when it does or doesn't show up.

Where do you turn when life on life's terms deals a wild card? Do you allow yourself all your feelings, without using the "self-pity" warning as a weapon? If you were abducted by aliens, would anyone else know where you keep your passwords or your bank records? How do you bring yourself back to today when your brain races ahead?

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See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample of the "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" workbook with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. Available in PDF format for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th 

The Journey Continues

I've been reading articles lately about retired people who don't feel relevant after leaving paid work, who feel useless, like they don't matter. I also keep reading about the importance of staying engaged in life as we get older.  Thank goodness for our 12 Step programs. Anytime I take on a service commitment or reach out to a fellow member, I am engaging. Any time I talk or text with a sponsee or sponsor, I am engaging. Anytime I listen or share in a meeting, I am engaging.

In a recent birthday meeting, I was struck how this particular group tells the truth, the sometimes painful, not always pretty truths about how we muddle about on this journey of life. Truth-telling, solution-focused meetings are what bring me the quiet joy of gratitude, of connection, the permission to be real. I can enjoy the "AA on Saturday night" aspect of speaker meetings, with the cross between stand-up comedy, pathos and universal truths, as well as more general groups with newcomers where members tend to share their "pitch" and I'm starkly reminded of "what it was like." There is a place for all of it. The beauty of where I live, and now with online meetings, is that I have choices. 

Sometimes those choices have been around participating in home meetings where a select group works the Steps from the Big Book, 12x12 or various other sources (One Breath at a Time, a Women's Way, etc). One such group started as an Alanon Step Study but has continued over the years as simply a small support group, a place to be with others I've sat with over time. I gain wisdom from new-to-me voices, and, thrive with the cosmic exhale of being known.

I recently heard G.O.D. described as "Ghosts On Demand" - kind of funny, but kind of true. I have the ghosts of loved ones who reside in my heart, as well as the "ghosts of Christmas' past," the treasure trove of memories that either sting or comfort. And then there are the ghosts of stories about myself and my circumstance, wisps of beliefs that may or may not be true today depending on if I'm looking through the darkness of self-doubt or the light of recovery. Ghosts on Demand. How often am I pulling old ideas off the shelf rather than living in the here and now?

I shared recently that it might be spiritually arrogant to assume I've done all (most?) of my causes and conditions work but heard from others with decades of experience that they, too, feel done with that part of the journey. Done with the blame, with the focus on what was done, or not done, done with looking backwards to find the directional coordinates for today. Time takes time, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, and by putting in the emotional and spiritual work, today I am free. 

I drew on this realization when speaking at an in-person Alanon meeting over the weekend. I've come to understand my Alanon journey as having three overlapping phases. First was what brought me to the rooms - a relationship with a practicing heroin addict, learning all the ways I was powerless over his choices. After he died of an overdose, I could've stopped going, but I recognized part two of the journey had to do with the lengthy process of unraveling how I was impacted by my father's alcoholism. Part three of the concurrent journey has to do with marriage, as in who do I bring to the equation? I asked for a new experience, but am I using the same old strategies and dysfunctional tools? Bits and pieces of the past grab me every now and then, but these days it really is more about the here and now, about strengthening the "pause" muscle, about my spiritual fitness. 

And of course, just when I'm feeling super-centered, we get invited to a party, an actual post-pandemic party by a friend of my spouse's. My first thought was "Strangers?! Oh no!" I swear that my introversion has grown stronger during the last three years. Stay home? OK. And, I was able to do a reality check and perspective shift to "People I haven't met yet? Interesting!" It really is about self-care (HALTS) and being willing to ask myself, "What else might be true?"

Do you have at least one place (meeting, friendship, family) where you can be totally you, vulnerably real? Where do you get your spiritual and emotional nourishment these days? Where are you on the causes-and-conditions journey? Is there anyone you need to let off the hook today (including yourself)?

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January could be time to think about a new year inventory. See the Jan 13, 2023 post for a sample of the "I've Been Sober a Long Time - Now What?" workbook with 78 pages of topics, member's views, and processing questions. Available in PDF format for those of you outside the US (or who prefer that format) or hardcopy mailed to you. Email me at shadowsandveins@gmail.com with questions. Note that the workbook is also available at Portland Area Intergroup at 825 NE 20th