I Haven't Lost My Mind, Yet. Here's Why

Gratitude in my Attitude & Service in my Steps

A friend once said "Life isn't fair, you get what you get. What you do with it is the measure of your character." I miss him, and I get it. What I did with what I got has changed over the years and I'm extremely grateful for the hard times & the better times & for the privilege I started out with.

The truth is, even though I’m tired, completely comfoozled, even though there’s a lot of stress in my life, I come from a place of privilege. Every time someone tells me I’m doing such a good job with Mom, I remember I come from a place of privilege that makes it, if not easy, at least easier. That’s luck and I’m incredibly grateful for that.

Privilege

Privilege is not the result of actions taken or effort expended, it’s the roll of the dice that makes the playing field uneven. None of us share a starting line, everything in our history, our family history, the happenstance of our birth, location, skin color, time in history figures in. You don’t get to take credit for any of it. I don’t ever want to forget that, or take it for granted. While it’s not fair, I’m still grateful for whatever privilege I’ve inherited.

We have options

I can choose who I want to help care for Mom and we can pay for any medical treatment or needs.
Yes, I often lack patience in my dealings but,
I have the education, awareness and experience to know where to find answers, who to turn to, how to increase my chances of getting what I’m requesting for her.
I have a warm, sunny home, big enough for us both.
I’m not wealthy, or even well off, but I am retired and at 67, I don’t need to work.
I have a huge community in recovery, in caretaking, in the creative community.
I have the luxury of using words like “creative community.”
No major illnesses, and despite all my efforts to trash my life for 30+ years, I’m still alive.

Some of that is luck and privilege. The roll of the dice.
And I’m sober, and that shakes out like this in the words of Johnny Nash

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-shiny day

I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-shiny day

Being sober, and not just dry¹ I’m grateful for the lessons, the community and the warmth made available in the last 27 years. Sometimes I even remember to say yes, to take a chance, that I’m not all alone. Sometimes, I’m carried by love.

Gratitude. Steps. And small Miracles.

Friday,
Leisurely, simple and delicious breakfast with an out-of-town friend who's in town for a few days, and just happens to be staying three blocks away.
9K²

Saturday,
Recovery meeting³ with 100 of my closest sober community
Lunch and coffee in a new (to me) neighborhood with my BFF of 30+ years
13K steps

Sunday,
Recovery meeting⁴ with 300 of my closest sober community
Text: “Want to come to my place after meeting for pancakes toast n eggs? 🥰”

In recovery, you can know someone for decades and not know how to define who you are to each other. More than colleagues, less than friends. That’s family, your sober family.

Saying Yes to being a new person⁵ sitting with a close group gifted me a relaxed, delightful, funny and difficult, honest, deliciously conversational flowy meal with new sistery women
15K steps

Monday,
Host online Recovery meeting⁶ and make it a surprise reunion of sober women who haven’t been in the same place at the same time for 20+ years. Tears were shed. Healing happened. Connections renewed.

Tuesday,
Said Yes to a last minute request to do service in Recovery, because service, in the world—or in Recovery—will save my sanity. Even though I’d spend twenty minutes talking about myself, it’s not about me and that’s such a relief, to get out of myself and be of service to others.

🩵

That is how the world heals.
Say Yes.
Get out of your own way and be of service to someone else, expecting nothing in return.

🩵🩵

1. Which I was for the first seven+ years. Not drinking or drugging, but the behavior hadn’t changed. That’s what we call white knuckle sobriety. It’s very painful.

2. Because besides being physically healthy, and getting me where I need to be, movement is a mood changer

3. Zoom and in-person, I’ve been with this group for 27 years. I’ve seen marriages, divorces, babies, death and everything in between. It is the foundation of the house of my life.

4. Same group, different day, bigger room

5. An outsider, the odd man out, an intruder, a pity case. That’s what my mind will tell me. My mind, she does not love me all the time. Sometimes, I just have to look her in her little mind face and say, “Thanks for sharing, now shut the fuck up and move the fuck on.”

6. Same group, different day, smaller group