Today is the fifth anniversary the US invasion of Iraq. While some would say this war is just, others deem it unjustified and based on lies. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a society that was brutally invaded and held under the grip of a huge super power struggles to for the survival of their culture. A culture with a rich spiritual tradition, steeped in the steadfast belief in non-violence and compassion. For almost sixty years the world powers have not interceded in this situation. The US continues to borrow money from this brutal opportunistic invader, China. The world will watch as the Olympic Games are hosted by China. And yet, this super power continues to blame a simple monk who hasn’t been home in almost fifty years, for Tibetan resistance. The people of Tibet have rights to preserve their traditions, culture and language that China continues to deny. If the violence continues the Dalai Lama has stated he will give up his seat as the political head of Tibet. This doesn’t sound like a man inspiring violent protests to me. It could be that viewed that the next generation of Tibetans seems to be losing their patience with non-violent ways. Or it could be true that China is staging the violence to justify their continued dominance over this precious jewel.
The world is still watching and doing nothing to help Tibet, while we continue to pour money into a Middle Eastern country that has a commodity that everyone wants (oil). I am struck by contrast of these two conflicts, and the world’s response to them. I still strive to make aspirations for the end to suffering for all beings, even the ones who I disagree with, including the ones who would harm me. Today, I am reminded of a story about His Holiness the Dalai Lama. At the end of a talk he gave, someone asked him, “Why didn’t you fight back against the Chinese”? The Dalai Lama looked down, swung his feet just a bit, and then looked back up with a gentle smile and responded, “Well, war is obsolete you know.” After a few moments, he face turned grave, as he said “Of course, the mind can rationalize fighting back…but the heart, the heart would never understand. Then you would be divided in yourself, the heart and the mind, and the war would be inside of you.”
In this part of the year, in my corner of the world it is easy to fall under SAD or seasonal affective disorder. The lack of light, living indoors because of the cold can make one feel disconnected alone and, well…sad. But fortunately, I have so many friends I can reach out to from my dharma friends to my 12 step groups, to close friends at work. However, like Jerry Garcia sang in Scarlet Begonias, “Once in a while you get shown the light the strangest of places if you look at it right”.
This rainy New England Saturday afternoon, I found myself in Joanne Fabric wandering the aisles looking at materials for graduation invitations and a picture frame. At one juncture, I was yielding aisle passage to a woman about sixty years old, when our eyes met and we began a conversation. We had both finished degrees after 40 despite holding down jobs and homes. She faced discouragement from friends who thought an art degree was a waste of time. I experienced that also from my father when I was getting a degree in graphics and he told me it would only enable me to draw pictures for my children to color. We both agreed that school has so much of an impact once you are a little older. So many 18 year olds have a tendency to major in alcohol and wildness, with a minor emphasis on going to class instead of realizing the value of the opportunity they have to learn. We both obtained not only a degree, but a passion for knowledge and a firm belief that we could persevere and accomplish a long term goal despite any odds. We wondered at the crazy consumerism of America. Why can’t we have one day where every store and business is closed to dedicate to friends, family, picnics in the park and resting. Noting the rising price of gas, we agreed that alternative transportation like they have in other countries would be more efficient. When I told her I am planning to ride my bike more this summer, she told me of the frequent sight of women in France riding bicycles dressed up with hats and fancy clothing to go to the market. Wouldn’t it be better if instead of complaining about the price of everything we took back our collective power and found a creative solution to do without so much of whatever resource was outrageous, gasoline for instance? Then with a two handed hand shake, we smiled and parted ways, never even exchanging names. Suddenly, I noticed that the whole store was full of creative resourceful friendly women. I was encouraged by the thought of all the craft stores across the country, full quiet passionate creative souls. And I felt a part of something larger than myself; a group that undoubtedly has the power to make the world a better place, one anonymous conversation at a time.
After more months of bloglessness, I find myself absorbed in my depressed clouded mind, which sometimes morphs into anxiety. I suspect that a bear’s instinct to hibernate during the winter months has carried over into our evolution as well. Perhaps the only difference between me and an old bear right now is my inability to sleep until may and the ability to program a playlist on my iPod.
Winter in New England could surely make you fall prey to those commercials for Cymbalta, Paxil, Prozac, Zoloft and the pharmaceutical warnings that come along with pill cures. A 12 step meeting and a daily dose of Effexor perks me up a little. And a dark roasted cuppa coffee and a rich piece of chocolate always warms my heart. But despite the efforts of coffee farmers, meditation, the self-help movement and psycho-med development, music was the comfort for this savage beast today. Listening to Led Zepplin on my iPod kept me rocking through my funk. I didn’t have to hear the latest “Hillary this”, or “Obama that”. I can disconnect from the Bush/Cheney delusion, another robbery/shooting/drug arrest in my city, or the annoyance of my house alarm that keeps going off - just by closing my eyes and hearing music across four decades from a little device that fits in my pocket. Yes there are two paths you can go down, but in the long run, there’s still time to change the road you’re on. I hope so….
Looking at this blog last night, I could not believe that it has been nine months since I have written an entry! Meanwhile, “Life on Life’s terms” has had an interesting way of showing me just how powerful the forces of the universe can be. Cue the music of Marvin Gaye's Trouble Man, singing "there's only three things that's for sure; taxes death and trouble. This I know baby....". Here's my long-winded recap of where I have been since january……
In January, I found myself signed up for two courses instead of one and working full time. Taking daytime classes at a private school (ie one with wealthy students) was an experience that jolted me into looking at the fact that I am now on the precipice of middle age, and of a very different mindset of those under 30. In February, my father-in-law died. While this was not totally unexpected, the sadness of his experiences in WWII and his life’s struggles gave me another view of a man I thought I didn’t much understand or care for. The outpouring of love and support from both our AA friends and our local sangha was such a blessing. In March, I got my first laptop which helped me with school and helped me move into “the always connected realm” that I saw other students living in. We also found out that a friend who had done our taxes incorrectly (causing the IRS to confiscate our tax returns and question us), was brought up on federal charges, facing a prison term and hefty fines. In addition to the mixture of feeling angry, bewildered and worried for my so-called friend, I wondered if we’d be put through an unpleasant audit. In April, we moved forward with designing and building the new kitchen we have dreamed about for years.
Tuesday afternoon May 8th, just days after I had turned in my work for the semester, I came home to find our house had been robbed. The horror of finding my Buddhist texts on the floor under pictures of the Karmapa, Dalai Lama and Ponlop Rinpoche brought the sinking feeling that everything material I held dear, could be taken from me in a matter of moments. My brand new laptop was stolen, my digital camera, my heirloom jewelry including my grandmother’s wedding ring, my mother’s engagement ring and a piece that belonged to my grandfather promised to me since I was a child, were all gone. The shock of seeing my drawers disheveled and my home invaded still has me reeling. The cop told us, we’d never see our stuff again and said we should expect this because we live in Hartford. People said really dumb shit. I was asked if I had pissed off, as if this was retribution for something. Others made comments on the racial make-up of Hartford. A week later a neighbor described seeing the robber, who fit the profile of someone who had been an AA friend. Contrary to racial profiling, he is a white guy, from the wealthy suburbs. Addiction has a way of leveling the field. Consumed with betrayal; I irrationally mistrusted every man in AA, since these two guys (the accountant and the robber) temporarily represented the results of trusting people in recovery. The sense of violation I felt, shook my faith and beliefs to the core. I gave the cops his name, address and phone number and told them they better get to him before I did. The police did very little to follow up and getting them to answer our calls only added to our frustration. Although the officer did come and apologize after I reported him to a city council member who lives two houses down from us. With the attitude of a vigilante, this supposed sober Buddhist Practitioner began to plot out revenge. For a few weeks I stalked the suspected person, driving by his house and looking for him. As the universe would have it, I never saw him.
On the afternoon our house was robbed, a friend who is a month older than me died of cancer leaving a husband and two kids 9 and 11. I was going to go to a Buddhist ceremony for her, but the day before the service I got in a car accident, when a young man stopped short and I rear ended him. Although I missed her service, fortunately nobody was hurt. Feeling lucky that the insurance company didn't drop us, the fact that my Jeep was in the shop for a week left me with another bill. My anger and resentment was melting into despair as I tried to navigate my way through these effects of samsara. I began alternate between crying and being resentful, cursing the world and mistakenly thinking that this was renunciation and I might be ready for a monastery. Except that I'd have this mind full of crap to take with me, the monastery was more like an escape fantasy.
Dealing with insurance companies, security alarm companies and trying to recover some sense of safety was the focus for June. By this time, construction on the kitchen had started and my camera and laptop had been replaced by insurance. I completed a 3 credit summer course in Project Management, something I have no desire to do as a profession. However, it was insightful while dealing with contractors, IKEA deliveries and home depot mistakes. The stress of living in a construction site after the robbery was eclipsed by concern for my next door neighbor who had serious surgery for a tumor. She recovered very well, again reminding me to never take my heath or friends for granted. There are much more important things than launching a major software release at work, school, heirloom jewelry, or technical gadgets, new kitchens. While we were visiting friends in Brooklyn at the end of June a young man was stabbed to death at a graduation party around the corner from home, and our oldest cat died. I went to a vigil for the young man and in the tears of a six year old little girl at the vigil I connected with my soft wounded self that had been covered with so many other emotions. I realized that I was miserable, anxious and the very picture of insanity. In the face of that little girl, I realized I was only adding to the upheaval of samsara. Feeling like a completely hypocritical dharma fraud and dry drunk, I suddenly I became aware that I was missing meditation and recovery meetings. I chose a women’s meeting to make a regular since I have always felt safe with women. We started a summer Buddhist video series on Compassion Practice known as Tonglen at our home on Friday nights, and it helped home to feel safe again. During one video, the teacher said you can have many seemingly unsuccessful practice sessions and then one moment something happens and your heart melts into the essence of compassion. Maybe that is what happened to me at that vigil.
August brought several visits to the beach, my favorite place on Earth to be. I suspect that because we are both fire signs, it’s cathartic for us to be at the ocean. The kitchen was completed and it is wonderful. I took a week off to try to rejuvenate myself. I turned 45 and was not thrilled about it. I did some service work at the Women’s meeting I now go to regularly on Wednesday nights. I attended a teaching by Yongyey Mingur Rinpoche on his book The Joy Of Living. I will finish my B.S degree by December, and am looking forward to two weeks in St Thomas after that. The last course for my B.S. degree has started. Our accountant friend was sentenced to a year and a day in prison, two years of the ankle bracelet monitor and fined 70K. In spite of myself, I pray for his safety. We put a picture of the suspected robber on our altar (although I still hope I don’t run into him). The security alarm was installed in our home yesterday. On September 11th, I will quietly celebrate 18 years of continuous sobriety.Let me tell you, after this past nine months that is no small miracle.
The leaves in New England are already starting to turn yellow and orange. Our neighborhood is still unsettled with the sound of sirens and kids on mini bikes. The quiet of evening’s fading light comes earlier with the start of school. My friend Celina gave me a bumper sticker yesterday that reads “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth. Buddha”. Before I went to sleep last night, I found this treat on my friend Zoe’s website If you have a few minutes check it out. It is a wonderful sampling of impressionist artwork set to Beethoven, inspiring us to seek beauty and balance in life…if only for a few minutes each day. This morning I opened a book I got for my birthday with daily suggestions to lift your spirit. Today’s reading asks the question “What will you do to bring a sense of ease to your day?”. Perhaps I’ll make a gratitude list……
It’s been a while since I indulged in a good rant of Indignation, so here’s one that is grinding on me this week - Presenteeism. Absenteeism defined is taking off without being sick – therefore it’s opposite is Presenteeism or coming in when you shouldn’t.
Now, I usually aspire to be a compassionate Buddhist. I would love to see an end to suffering of every being everywhere. I feel for sick people and their suffering, really I do. But my patience wears thin when people fail to consider their impact on others around them. I’m sure every office dweller can identify with the fear and impatience of sitting in the cubical next to someone who is hacking up a lung four feet away from you all day. You know the type. Their kid is sick every other week. They come in to work with bronchitis, taking antibiotics, cough meds and inhalers and sitting in a mound of Kleenex because they don’t want to use their company paid time for being sick. They come over to speak to you, red-eyed with a tissue over their face writing you a note because their voice is gone. You cringe when you see them, pulling back wondering “where did I put that bottle of hand sanitizer”?
Offices are notorious for having dust and cleaning staff that only vacuum if you dump the paper punch on the carpet. It’s not unusual for folks to have a few sneezes, sniffles and coughs at work. But it’s entirely another thing to come in half asleep and zoned on Robitussin.
Here are a few tips to lessen your microbial impact on others in the work environment:
- If you caught it from your kid or your spouse – you’ll pass it on to your co-workers. STAY HOME
- If you are hacking and honking and others can hear you over their iPod. STAY HOME
- If you have to write notes and emails because your voice isn’t audible over the phone or in person. STAY HOME
- If you will be sick for three weeks while working but could probably heal in three days resting without working. STAY HOME
I wish companies out there would consider giving separate vacation and sick time. Studies have shown that you lose money when people come to work sick. In fact, companies lose over $250 billion, or $2K per worker annually on Presenteeism. Errors go up, and so do medical costs resulting in higher benefits costs. We’re all in this to make money not lose it.
Yesterday in NYC, I had the privilege to attend an event held by the Veteran Feminists of America to celebrate a new book on Feminists Who Changed America 1963-1975. What an amazing day full of brilliant vibrant inspiring women! All of the women in attendance contributed in their own way to the freedoms that women today now enjoy. These ordinary women could be your neighbor, your aunt, your grandmother. Yet it takes an extraordinary woman to dare to swim against the tide of a male dominated world. Because of the women’s movement, pregnancy isn’t a cause for firing, want ads are no longer separated by gender, young girls have parity in school athletics, and women can get a bank loan without a husband or father’s approval. The list of changes we take for granted every day goes on and on despite the real threat to women’s equality that exists in the religious right wing.
During WWII my grandmother worked and raised her young daughter alone while her husband was off at war. She was legally blind and never drove a car. After the war was over, she was a wife and homemaker until her husband died of lung cancer at 49 years old. I saw her as fiercely independent taking care of her own home in the 1970’s. Her resourcefulness and determination showed me the strength of a woman. As I grew up she would try to get me to meet young men. I asked her if she thought I needed a man so bad why didn’t she? She laughed at me and replied "what would I need a man to take care of?". Initially, she struggled to accept my coming out as lesbian during the height of the AIDS epidemic, but she couldn't forsake her first born grandchild. She loved to talk about shoes with my partner, and discuss women’s tennis and basketball with us. She admitted that maybe in another time she might have been like me. Suffering from emphysema she died in 2001.
My mother graduated high school in 1960 and got a job working in a bank. In 1962, a new department was being started to use computers for processing bank business. Another woman had been asked to be the assistant to this new department, but had to decline because she was pregnant. My mom was very excited that she would be the next in line for this position. Around this time, she started to experience a lot of sickness and found out I was on the way. She was fired for being pregnant. I did not know about this until very recently, but had it not been for the inequality in the workplace at that time, my mom might have been the CIO of a bank. She later went on to have a successful career, and was active in National Association of Insurance Women, holding local chapter officers positions. But it took alot of work to catch up on the education she sacrificed to raise a family. In 2000 she graduated with a BS in Management from a women’s college; the oldest graduating senior in her class.
In the early 1990’s another woman slightly older than me became a mentor to me. With an inner strength forged by a history in the women’s movement, she was a model for me and encouraged me to shed my own self imposed limitations. She was unapologetic in her straightforwardness, yet profoundly compassionate in her respect for the personal strength it takes to aim higher than you ever think you can reach. Through my relationship with her, I learned that you never have to compromise yourself, and that your power is your own. I adopted her as my godmother and she is forever in my heart. Her story is in Feminsts Who Changed America on page 336.
A few years ago, through a local GLBT youth organization known as True Colors, I had the opportunity to mentor a young woman of color who knew she was a lesbian. She faced challenges that I cannot imagine. While I won’t go into the details, suffice to say that our backgrounds and family histories are extremely different. It was amazing to behold this young woman who had the courage to be who she is at 14 years old and to find community to support her! Although I’m old enough to be her mom, we found a common language through music and laughter. She graduated high school a semester early and is now living on her own. She still calls from time to time to let me know she is doing ok. I know someday she will be a guiding force for another woman…who will know that she isn’t walking alone. Hopefully she will know the rich history of the women who came before her.
Today I take pause to appreciate the quality of a life that has had many barriers removed or at least lowered. Clearly, this has been made manifest because of the ones who came before me. The fabric of my life is woven with threads dyed and textured by the struggle, sacrifice and vision of women who had the courage to make a difference. Of course, men have also had an impact on my life, but that’s another blog...
This weekend I went to a few birthday parties. One was for my niece’s baby girl who turned two. A party for two years olds is a constant source of laughter watching them run around and hearing them attempt to form sentences. I am not around kids too much, so it was quite educational watching them. The little girl’s outfits were quite fabulous, including pink sparkly mary janes with pink fur vest and jeans. The little boys struggled to pick up a full sized football and throw it to the big boys. I was struck by how early the gender differences manifest.
Now the Birthday girl, who is named Abby, has all manner of toys at her grandparents (my brother) house. Abby was riding her battery operated Quad, very proudly demonstrating her ability to steer it around trees. A little boy noticed the toy and wanted to ride it. He ran up to her and declared “That’s not for girls, it’s for boys!” At two and three years old there is already an impression on what toys and activities are for boys and which ones are for girls! Several of the adults intervened and said things like "That toy is for everyone ,not just boys" and also “Be nice to Abby it’s her birthday”.. The good news is that today at least some adults intervene and offer another view.
Is there any wonder we have such gender inequality in the world, when the ideas of what is expected because of a child's gender is implied so early. It starts with the outfits and blankets we put the newborns in – pink for girls, blue for boys. By two, a little girls knows how to play shy and flirt with good looking males and little boys know they can intimidate little girls by saying girls can’t do something. And they could spend the rest of their lives trying to deal with such limitations, or break free of them.
As a child, I asked for a bonsai tree for Xmas the year I was ten. A year later I would sit with the headphones on listening to Simon and Garfunkel trying to capture the words so I could make a caligraphy of them. I guess it never occurred to me that most kids don't normally think of such actvities to pass time. In my drunken days, I remember trying to learn to meditate with a Spiritualist Church and telling the Reverend I wanted to go to Tibet. I didn't know why or even where it was. He laughed and told me I had a long way to go before I was ready for Tibet.
After I got sober, I found another group to meditate with and had a teacher who was unorthodox and wild. He inspired me to pursue meditation and spiritual growth and it felt like a natural progression on my path. After a while I seperated from the group, but continued to be interested in Tibetian Buddhism. I was happy to learn that local college would be hosting a monk named Lobsang Samten who created a sand mandala. I would go and watch this beautiful work develop and one day he put the tools in my hand and let me help with it. A few years later a group of nuns visited this college to create another sand mandala. They were granted permission by the Dalai Lama to create a sand mandala outside the monastery which had never before been done by women. I missed meditating with a group and it was wonderful to connect with these women and the following that gathered at the college. During this event I heard about a local center and started to go every week in what has become my sangha. Our meditation center in Hartford is affiliated with Karma Triyana Dharmachakra in Woodstock, NY. Together we meditate practice, read and contemplate. We try to find a way to benefit beings by putting these principles into our lives off the cushion in the twenty first century, far far from Tibet. Last week, our Sangha got the opportunity of a lifetime...it was like a dream. I am in awe of the serenity I still feel days later. We were invited to receive The Chenrezig Compassion Empowerment from His Holiness The Dalai Lama in Woodstock at KTD where the HHDL visited last thursday and friday.
During the Dalai Lama's public talk in a field next to a cemetary, he laughed and pointed to the cemetary, reminding us that is the destination we are all headed for. He was funny and very human when he spoke of realtionships with animals that didn't like him. Later in the talk he said his religion is Kindness, and that he believes that the essence of all religions is to be compassionate and help end suffering. He said when someone looks at him negatively he feels bad, and imagines everyone else feels like that when looked at negatively. With a genuine childlike hope he said "I hope you are all here as my friend, and look upon me kindly today", and the crowd cheered and clapped. When we got quiet again he remarked "Perhaps, you could look at each other more like you look at me today".
Just today, two people cut me off in traffic, and as the light turned red in front of me I realized I forgot to get mad! Serenity like that in rush hour traffic is hard to come by for me. I hope that I can use it to create more peace and less suffering in the world. I aspire to make Kindness my religion.
Well it’s been a long week leading up to the Labor Day weekend. I took my sponsor's advice and went to more meetings and it sure helped. The topics and wisdom that came from a group of drunks (or G.O.D as I see it) really helped balance me. And I clearly saw that the Promises of Alcoholics Anonymous are manifest in my life today. http://www.recoveryresources.org/promises.html
Seventeen years ago this coming weekend was my last case of alcohol poisoning. (2; “We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it”). This week helped me to remember that all my problems today are luxury problems.(8. "Self-seeking will slip away".) I really do trust and believe that I am part of larger picture of the universe. This is a vast change from the forsaken despair of wishing things to be different, that I lived in when I drank. Yes, I can still feel pretty badly and not have to drink it away. (1. “We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness”). I drove a woman to a meeting who was detoxing and couldn’t drive (7. “We will lose interest in selfish things and gain insight into our fellows”). I saw someone shaking and tearful walk up and pick up a 24 hour coin after coming to AA for 3 years, and I remembered the courage it takes to live without a substance to numb what I can’t change. (12. "We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves"). I can truly care for another person who might be struggling, and I can reach out of my own challenges and offer help (6 “That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear”). I can come out the other side and realize how lucky I am. (9. “Our whole attitude and outlook will change”.)
In this next month I will celebrate 17 years of sobriety. I will be trusted to lead a meeting that helped me to get sober. (5. “No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others”). I will attend a conference about Buddhism and Gender. I have been invited to meet the His Holiness The Dalai Lama in Woodstock NY and receive a compassion empowerment in a smaller group than his usually convention center arena. (3. “We will comprehend the word serenity” & 4. And we will know peace.”)
“Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us--sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.....” One Day a Time
Over the years I have spent a lot of time studying and practicing Buddhism. In the last few years particularly, I have been exploring the concept of emptiness. I am interested in working with this around feelings that I seem to be so hesitant to let go of. Like many people, my feelings dictate my reality. When I am angry at my boss, the president or some other sort of entity that I perceive as bigger than me, it colors my view of the world. In the 12 step tradition, we try to achieve serenity by learning to "accept the things we cannot change". I can’t change the government or my boss, but I can change my mind. In Buddhist practice, we are taught to explore the "reality" of such thoughts and feelings, to see if we can find them. In one instruction, we are guided to look for the feeling in our body. Is it in our arm, our stomach, our forehead? Does it have a color or shape or texture? I have found that thoughts and feelings are essentially empty; they have no inherent form, shape or color. When I am anxious or afraid, I can sense my heartbeat increasing, my stomach tightening, perhaps some sweat on my forehead or palms. But that effect is a reaction – not the origin or nature of the thing itself. Once I realize the non-existence of the thing itself, it loosens it’s grip on me a little. With practice, I might be able get out of the habit of being a slave to my delusions.
This is a difficult time of year for me on many levels. My birthday and sobriety anniversary fall within a 3 week period of late august early September. For most folks, this is a cause for celebration, however I am having a difficult time being haunted by thoughts and memories. I know they have no inherent substance, but I am reacting to them none-the-less. Remembering birthdays gone by celebrating with my step mom & dad who moved away, and another family member who committed suicide. In 2001, while traveling with a dear friend on my birthday, he had an aortic aneurism and had to be airlifted to a hospital to have emergency heart surgery. He miraculously survived and went on to graduate from Yale Divinity School but this was a really traumatic event. This summer, he has another aortic aneurism and will undergo surgery again in a few weeks.
This is also the time of year that as an alcoholic and drug addict I was hitting bottom and felt the worst in my whole life, physically, spiritually and emotionally. I think when it gets cooler and the days grow shorter my body remembers that time, and I hope I never go through that again. A week after Labor day in 1989, I walked into a 12 step meeting and have been sober ever since- September 11, 1989, now the historical date of the largest loss of life in an attack on American soil. Saturday morning my partner flew to Atlanta to see her ailing father, and I find myself alone in the house with all the cats (one of whom is in a losing battle with cancer). Sunday morning I turned on the TV to see a plane crashed on the way to Atlanta. Being confronted with all this reminds me that life and everything in it is impermanent. And suddenly I thought my partner has been to much of the foundation of my 12 step recovery. I hadn’t been to a meeting in probably 3 weeks and became aware that have been taking my recovery for granted. So I went to a meeting and connected with my sponsor and got some of this out. Simple things I did to get sober still work to balance me today. Don't drink, go to meetings and talk about it anyway. Even if it is the scary icky things that are depressing.
Today, when I feel a sense of isolation and fear I will remember that feelings are not solid facts and with practice I can loosen the ties that bind me to suffering over them. I am aware enough to work things out, and lucky enough to have the opportunity that many drunks and addicts who don't get into recovery never get. And there is an AA meeting with friendly faces and a fresh pot of coffee at 7 pm around the corner….and I have earned a seat at it.