Squalls & Waves

I'm grateful for fellowship at new meetings. I'm grateful to always run into ex-NYC people here in Denver. I'm grateful for the snow we had yesterday and how pretty it was to run in it. I'm grateful for a fireplace and the automatic warmth and coziness it provides. I'm grateful to hear about people's sober journeys that started during the pandemic. I'm grateful for diversity at meetings. I'm grateful for my new neighborhood being a central spot for a lot of AA stuff. I'm grateful to take it easy and not always push. I'm grateful for my life in sobriety and all the opportunities it provides.

As I write this post there is a snow squall descending upon Denver. For those who aren't familiar, a snow squall is a brief, intense snowstorm that hits a region reducing visibility considerably. I was debating whether to run earlier, thinking the weather has been so amazing this past week (60s and above), but am glad I'm waiting this out indoors where it's warm and cozy.

I feel like the spirit of this beautiful storm is a reflection of how my past few weeks have been. I've had bursts of intense excitement/joy from connecting with new people at AA Meetings and learning how sobriety operates in this city to switching on the flip of a dime into anger/fear for things not working out with home stuff and other personal situations. All this certainly comes from settling into a new place, learning the lay of the land, and beginning to establish healthy routines.

What has been comforting is that I've generally understood my thoughts and emotions, and regularly reminded myself that they are all temporary. By swiftly identifying them in the moment, I mitigate some of the outsized power I give them (especially if they are negative). Embracing the existence of the emotion and letting it pass gives me a chance to re-center, to be on an even keel again. Now mind you I don't always move on completely, in some situations there may be remnants of that feeling I harbor in my subconscious for later, but for the time being it's gone...as it should be.

I recently finished viewing for the 4th or 5th time one of my favorite TV shows, The Good Place. In the series finale one of the characters says the below quote that nicely summarizes how I've handled my "squall-like" past few weeks. He was reciting it in the context of moving on from this world, but I found while rewatching the scene and re-internalizing its meaning, I could apply it to how my mind has been operating:

"Picture a wave. In the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And it's there. And you can see it, you know what it is. It's a wave.

And then it crashes in the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while....[the wave] returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's supposed to be."

Identification and acceptance of my ever transient emotions, and thereby my situations, is my takeaway from the above. For instance, I let myself feel the latest bout of anguish - and that's OK. I let it exist and sit in my mind for a brief, but healthy period. And then that anguish retreats to the oceanic depths of my psyche. Going through the experience and returning to equilibrium is what my life is about today. The latest squall, or wave, was a vivid reminder of what it means to live life and not numb my way through it. And then the next time the squall or wave surfaces, my best approach will be to continue greeting it with sobriety and serenity.