A friend and I hiked in the Olympic National Forest this weekend. I say, "a friend," by which I mean one of my closest and dearest. We were in Quileute to search for the One Square Inch of Silence plaque in the Hoh Rain Forest, and, more importantly, to celebrate his 33rd sober anniversary. We met when I came in to treatment in January, 1986, where he'd gone with 4 months sobriety under his belt. He left a week after I arrived, one of those chance encounters that has ended up being one of the sustaining relationships in my recovery, and in my life.

Somewhat in jest, as we made our way back to the Seattle Ferry early Sunday morning, he asked, "How did we stay friends all these years?" I think a lot of it has to do with being "litter mates." We share a "coming-to" story, were taught similar lessons in treatment, and we've both stayed on the path of 12 Step recovery. We lived together for a time, cementing our new friendship, along with another treatment alumni, Ruth. He was 21, just a kid, though a kid who'd seen more than his share of alcoholic drama. I was 31, coming out of the meth fog, and Ruth was 60, my mom's age, who's drinking increased when one of her sons was killed in a car accident at Christmas time. Together, we traveled up and down the I-5 corridor, hitting meetings, going to dances and potlucks, and starting each day with our meditation books and the coffee I'd learned to drink in treatment.

We know each other's families, so that when my best friend talks about his grandmother, I remember sitting at her kitchen table in Montana, eating the bacon and eggs she'd fried up. He remembers my mother's laugh. He knows my ex's and I know his. We've cried together over heartbreak, laughed and mourned together, and everything in between.

I'm blessed to have several dear friends who fit this category of shared history, where we can talk every so often and it feels like just yesterday. And, this has been a summer of reunion, from the official 8th grade event, to music in the parks or hikes with friends I don't see so often anymore. Staying connected seems to take more of an effort these days. Life gets complicated, or so we tell ourselves. Where we were once a roaming band of singles, most are now familied-up with grand kids and nieces and nephews, spouses, step kids, in-laws, and aging parents vying for attention. Our meeting habits have changed - no longer do we insist on a meeting a day, with fellowship before and after. We are reaping the benefits of long term recovery, one day at a time. And, with a bit of  "been there, done that" that comes with aging, there is no longer the need to attend every opening, see every movie, hear every band. I joke that I love making plans, and I love when they get cancelled. Home is definitely where my heart is, along with my books, our cats, and various projects. A cozy night with my dear husband wins out, nearly every time.

We never did find the One Square Inch of Silence, though not for want of trying as we splashed up and down the undulating Hoh River Trail in the pouring rain. It was truly a weekend of "the journey, not the destination." Much like true friendship, which is a journey of intent, commitment, and picking up the phone.

Who do you connect with regularly? Who do you want to reach out to? Where is the journey taking you this week?

After a two month absence, I was back in my Step Group this weekend as we reviewed our efforts at working Step 7 during July. Always a meaningful discussion, and so helpful to hear how others apply our principles to daily life. It’s one thing to read about the Steps, and quite another to do the deal in the cold light of day (or the dark and gloomy night).

I was particularly struck by the reminder that when I act out of a place of anxiety and fear, others’ anxiety rises, and we’re off to the races. Like meets like, which certainly applies to the emotional energy I bring to a situation. It always comes back to me, and the vital importance of staying centered. Self-care isn't just bubble baths and candles. Self-care means prayer and meditation, saying what I mean (without saying it mean), along with doing my best to take my own emotional temperature before pointing the finger of blame. And yes, it is a lifelong process. If I were to rewrite Step 7, I'd say something like, "HP, please increase my awareness of my defenses and challenges, and grant me strength to do something different in the moment." It is that increased awareness that is both the gift and the curse of seeking maturity and internal peace.

On to Step 8. At face value, we make a list, but deeper, this Step is about amending behavior going forward. When first working the Steps, I made a list of people I had harmed: Who did I hurt, and how, intended or otherwise? Who did I lie to, cheat on, steal from (whether that was material goods or time and affection). Over time, my Step 8 grew to include those relationships I shortchanged by not being genuine, by not speaking up, by saying “yes” when I meant “no.”

At this point in recovery, and with most of my sponsees, the 8^th Step list is small, as in maybe one or two people, and generally includes oneself. When I do my yearly housecleaning inventory, not a lot new comes up because I’ve done my best to stay current with Step 10. So Step 8, as a practical matter in long-term recovery, means being kind, keeping my mouth shut when there is no real reason to speak my mind (1. Did they ask? 2. Am I the HP? If the answer to either is "no," then stop talking).  

I don’t expect to like everyone I meet. I can respect someone’s recovery without wanting to hang out. However, if I find there are relationships, past or current, that cause me an internal cringe, what do I need to do to get and keep my side of the street clean? Don’t gossip, for one. No one else needs to hear about it if I’m not crazy about someone. Don’t gossip, and cut the other person some slack. We’re all just out here being human, which, according to one of my Alanon readers, is not a character defect.

I can also practice cutting myself some slack. So I’m not perfect, even with all this sobriety? Thank goodness – wouldn’t that be unbearable? But, or rather, and, I can be mindful of my particular “isms” and do my best to think before I speak, pause before I act, pray before making a decision. It only takes a couple of seconds to check in with myself and use the THINK – is what I’m about to say Thoughtful, Helpful, Intelligent, Necessary and Kind? 

I keep coming back to the importance of the pause because it is where I struggle. I can run for four hours at a stretch, I can show up to work on time every single day, but pause for three seconds? What an order!  But, from what I hear in my meetings, I am not the only one. What a relief. I gain such comfort from sitting in a circle of like-minded others as we trudge the road, laughing at our foibles, crying together, celebrating our accomplishments - such a gift. 

What is your particular "ism?" What trips you up in your efforts to practice the principles in all your affairs? How do you apply the Steps in your daily life?

A friend recently talked about their struggles with feelings – more specifically, with allowing vulnerability. I joked that I’m the opposite – I’ll emote all over you, if you're not careful! I’m a feeler, an empath – which can be positive in my chosen profession, and can sometimes lead me down the garden path of melancholy or impulsive joy (This feels good! I want to feel even better!) In early recovery, I was advised to learn balance between intellect and emotion, head and heart. Too much of one or the other, and I’m off kilter. Living in my feelings, I’m more likely to be reactive, way up or way down as I ride the waves of emotionality. If I reside in my brain, I either feel detached or over-engage in the machinations of thinking, thinking, thinking with 3AM ruminations on what I can do for the situation du jour. Avoiding the see-saw is why I do my best to incorporate the Steps in my daily life - start the day with 1,2,3, end with 10,11, and do my best to practice the principles throughout.

How do I walk that tightrope, or the road that narrows, with pure feeling on one side, and intellect on the other? In most of my day-to-day, this doesn’t even come up. I go to work, do laundry, grocery shop, peruse Facebook... on something like auto-pilot.  It’s when I’m triggered that I can veer into the dark valley of feelings, or towards figure-it-out-ville.

A wise friend once told me that “an adult gathers information.” That can apply to buying a car or a washing machine, evaluating a job or a move. I can also apply that to my emotional and mental state. The gathering of information can involve putting pen-to-paper, purposefully sharing in a meeting, or with a sponsor or trusted other, in an effort to gain clarity. The act of speaking my confusion takes the power out of whatever has me tied in knots. So, gathering information can mean mining my internal well, looking underneath whatever distractions or defenses might be up. It can also mean talking to the person (or institution) that might be involved in my dilemma – do I truly know everything I need to know, or am I making assumptions?

If I’m struggling with balancing my thoughts and feelings, slowing down is never a bad idea. And part of the deal is accepting who I am - a feeler, much like my mother; a feeler who sometimes over-thinks. I am less impulsive than I used to be - age and experience lend themselves to slowing down. If what seems like a good idea today is sincerely a good idea, it will still be so tomorrow, or next week.  I know, too, that the person who talks about being uncomfortable with vulnerability is demonstrating vulnerability in the telling. Every time I take one tiny step past the outer boundary of my comfort zone, I move closer to healthy integration of who I was, who I am, and who I hope to be (one day at a time). 

Today, I am wrestling with a family member's uncertain medical issue. It's the in-between of not knowing that sends both my mind and my heart racing. I've called in the prayer-warriors, and have utilized my "God Box," and, more will be revealed. In the meantime, I will meditate, try not to think about it, and practice the Serenity Prayer. I can be there for my family as needed, which entails practicing my own self care.  

Are you more of a thinker, or a feeler? If your natural inclination sometimes feels out of balance, how can you strengthen the opposite trait? How might self-acceptance and a gentle touch ease your way?

The 50 year 8th grade reunion this past weekend was a grand success, with laughter and tender moments the prevailing mood. I was struck, as I participated and listened in on various conversations, by the fickle nature of memory. There was collective memory, of the way our 3rd grade teacher ran her tongue around her mouth before talking, for example. and selective memory, impacted by our specific wounds or triumphs.

Events may or may not be recalled objectively, but emotional memory is always subjective. I think of our saying, "more will be revealed," as applied to the inventory process. My first inventory was focused on what I'd done wrong. The next few were what "you" did wrong to me. Over time, with each revisit, my perspective shifted and changed so that, bit by bit, I've been able to see more of the whole picture (though, still, the whole picture from my viewpoint).

In thinking about those childhood years, when school was fun and my acting out fairly innocent and prompted mainly by boredom, I recall my introversion coupled with kinetic energy.  I remember sneaking candy, passing notes, and talking about that week's episode of The Monkees, or Laugh-In, knowing that most of my peers had watched too. Kind of like what happens in the rooms - we're different in so many ways, but have shared experience that allows our connections and conversations.

The day after the 8th grade gathering was my high school's yearly "all-alumni" reunion. Again, a chance to connect with people I see only once a year, or once every 40 years for some. But high school had a different tenor all together. For one thing, alcoholism had sunk its claws into my psyche. And, with full-on adolescence came the hideous four horsemen of terror, bewilderment, frustration and despair. Parts of high school were fun, and this is when I started confusing attention with validation, attraction with approval. It would be a long time before I understood that those attributes needed to come from within.

It was telling being part of a conversation about a particular person - they were involved in debate, football, this and that. I was involved in the park scene - smoking cigarettes, getting high, cutting class. Hindsight is 20/20 of course, and without some sort of intervention, I doubt I was capable of doing much differently. And, the friendships and associations I made during that time, and in those illicit places, continue to feed my soul. Different experiences, different perspectives, and here we are today.

How has your perspective on the past changed over the years? What has "more will be revealed" uncovered for you?