Sweater Weather

I'm grateful for the new effort tracker on my watch hitting the "Hard" level again after I changed up my running route. I'm grateful for feeling instantly uplifted when I saw the snow-capped mountains during my walk in the park. I'm grateful for writing having become a meditative practice for me - particularly when I observe how my mind works as it tries to capture the right words to authentically express nebulous emotions. I'm grateful when the gifts received from deep reflection inform how I tackle current issues. I'm grateful for the excitement I feel before another road trip. I'm grateful when our dog gets to join us on adventures instead of being boarded. I'm grateful to be better at taking positive, productive, HP-inspired action nowadays rather than picking up a drink when confronted with anxiety or fear. I'm grateful for a hopeful phone banking experience and being inspired by my fellow volunteers. I'm grateful for the ability to get out of self and find ways to be of service to my community.

I have a handful of well-made, cashmere pullover sweaters that have been in my possession since my mid-20s, which is now nearly 15 years ago. While they are slightly baggy on me, they are soft to the touch and provide solid warmth during the winter. Despite being inanimate pieces they do hold personal significance. I bought them during a happy period in my life when things were on the up and up. A promising career was taking me from NYC to SF. I was in my first serious relationship with boundless possibilities. I got my first dog. I got my first car. Some significant growing up was happening and these sweaters "saw" me through it all.

During my early 30s when my alcoholism was swerving into chaos, I would frequently wear them because they covered up whatever tattered, unkempt shirt I had underneath. Given their delicate construction I was supposed to only sporadically dry clean them. Being a wholly irresponsible drunk who spent every cent I had on buying vodka, I would carelessly dump these high-quality garments with my regular wash. Since my pores always oozed alcohol back then my clothes would naturally absorb that odor, which resulted in trying to remove the smell by doing laundry way too often. After a few years of abuse my cherished sweaters developed several holes and some pretty unbecoming stains. Did this stop me from wearing them everywhere? Nope.

Last week I made a pretty small, but meaningful move. As winter approaches, I wanted to wear these sweaters again. I don't have much warm clothing to begin with and I think they still look kinda good on me. Because I don't drink anymore, I can readily reach obvious conclusions like "Before wearing clothes publicly you must patch up the gaping holes and get them dry cleaned”. Not only do I have the mental capacity to carry out such basic adult activities, but I also have the funds that permit me to properly take care of myself.

A huge gift from AA has been regaining my dignity. I care about how I look. I care about the words I speak. I care about how I interact with the world. Something as simple as attending to my sweaters may sound trivial, but when I picked them up from the laundromat yesterday looking all nice and new I felt a tinge of pride. It was tangible validation around how I no longer treat myself poorly. Taking care of the minute tasks with relative ease these days gives me the space to tackle other, more complex life projects. When I complete those larger projects I can continue evolving in bigger and better ways. While the process of returning to sanity from the throes of addiction has been fairly incremental, I'm glad when I take opportunities to appreciate how far I've come. Especially when it's reflected in noticing the smaller details like mending my beloved sweaters.