Slow-Briety

I'm grateful for a meeting topic oriented around the phrase "sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly" and the resulting shares. I'm grateful for the fellow who was very vulnerable about where he's at, reminding me how dangerous and how immediate our alcoholism is at any given time. I'm grateful for the greater levels of patience this Program has taught me to practice. I'm grateful for a super fun and tough run in the snow storm, especially cherishing the moments the sun peeked out to beautifully light the ground like a sea of tiny crystals. I'm grateful for the ever evolving, ever expanding definition of my Higher Power. I'm grateful for the fellow who has been sincerely proactive around getting me to open up, be social, and step outside my comfort zone. I'm grateful for my home keeping me warm and comfortable. I'm grateful for a podcast making me recall the awesomeness of The Lion King's Circle of Life, particularly the intro which elicits such joy in me. I'm grateful for a sponsee who is already helping me without even knowing it.

Over the past week I got connected with a new sponsee who has been in my orbit for several years. We attended the same meeting and over time discovered that we had a fair amount in common. He finally reached out asking if I'd be willing to take him through the Steps. Of course I agreed.

After our initial conversation, I started ruminating on what the process was like for me slowly getting integrated into this Program. I think the operative word is "slowly" here because the moments I tried to fast track my recovery the results were hollow. "I wish you Slow-Briety" is a cute phrase I'd heard early on that has resonated more deeply with each passing year. The whole "design for living" concept as it pertains to AA is not something that suggests an endpoint to me. It's a day in, day out practice that yields results through diligent, sincere, daily work.

When I first entered the rooms a big change for me was understanding how to stop judging and comparing my story, my pain, and my transgressions with others. By mentally separating I often found excuses to check out of everything that was shared, further reinforcing my self-proclaimed belief of being an alcoholic unicorn. Honestly it took a while for me to update my proclivities. I've been an innately guarded individual for most of my life. Isolating was a preservation tactic because it meant others couldn't hurt me and therefore I wouldn't feel bad about myself - even more than I already did. However pushing myself to keep going to meetings, accumulating powerful examples of people being super honest and vulnerable about their lives, taught me how to disassemble those walls I'd constructed. Even if I wasn't always actively listening to every share or qualification, having the din of AA in my ear meant something was getting through by osmosis. Eventually it was easier to find points of identification with every story. Even if it was the tiniest of commonalities, I developed the muscle around connecting with others, which in turn rebuilt my capacity for deeper, genuine empathy.

Returning to the "design for living" concept, it took a little while for me to realize it's found primarily in working the 12 Steps. Post-relapse when I restarted the Steps, I finally began doing them for me. Not as homework to get praise from my Sponsor. Not as a way to impress others on how guru-like I sounded. The work was for an audience of one and only I knew whether what I was saying or writing down was fully true. The Steps have become an indelible framework for how I analyze most everything in life these days. If I am honest in leveraging them, then their impact is undeniable. This past weekend I finished Step 5 with my Denver sponsor, who left saying I should now sit for an hour and meditate on what transpired. The old me would've been like I have too many chores to complete or I need to move on to XYZ thing to get my day moving. Ultimately my emotionally sober voice took over saying the only person I was hurting by not taking his advice is myself. So I did sit alone for an hour after and reflect on my Step 5, which unsurprisingly gave me the lightness I was seeking. Holding myself accountable to doing the Step work, even when nobody's around, is a huge shift for me from only a few years back.

I've written about this frequently, but adopting healthy routines has been another slow and steady process. At first I didn't realize that what I was doing, like running in the park, was even related to my sobriety. Then as time went on I started codifying in my mind what those healthy practices are. I discovered when I didn't engage in them I felt queasy. Thankfully I was clear-headed enough to tie them back to my Program, knowing these activities were a part of protecting my peace. In doing that I realized I needed to be disciplined about them. Doing the math, I know by going through these routines my soul is nurtured.

One of the last points I'll outline here around my "Slow-Briety" journey is being kind to myself by finding ways to take care of myself. It started off with small acts like lighting a candle and realizing how impactful odor can be to boosting my mood. Then it gradually transformed into bigger actions like setting boundaries. Boundaries with family in particular that had been in certain ways detrimental to my serenity. Nowadays self-care has focused on letting my inner critic voice speak in gentler, more constructive ways. Not simply reinforcing "Sean, you're bad for doing XYZ", but reframing the language to, "Well that was a misstep, which happens, so how can you learn and do better moving forward?”. Quickly being able to perform that shift with my inner critic's tone ensures I'm not lingering in a dark place. Whereas before if even one harsh thought entered my mind it'd be a domino effect of retreading unrelated, super old negative memories reinforcing how bad, how unworthy a person I am. Today that process is less dramatic and more optimistically pragmatic.

I'm grateful that initial conversation with my sponsee sparked my reflection on how I got to where I am right now. Indeed putting myself in the shoes of someone still early in their recovery is reinvigorating. It reinforces old principles I've learnt, but have perhaps been lax on implementing, and it opens me up in new ways that I never realized I needed. It all is such a gift. I definitely wish him, myself, and everyone a beautiful journey in "Slow-Briety".