Community

Ugh. I am looking at the last time I posted and am getting behind of my postings! I can tell too; I get thinking and thinking. This blog is really my way of organizing that and letting it go. Thank you all, again for reading!

First off, general life update pre-COVID19. Leaving my job in counseling was probably the best thing I have done for myself. I am really liking my new job. My boss is easy to work with and I have fun with my new co-workers. That certainly doesn't mean I don't miss my other friends tremendously. I know that they are rooting for me and wanting me to be happy. I am so in love with being back in nursing. I am starting to wonder why I left it in the first place. That is probably a whole other both entry for some other night. In short, I was terrified to make the move. I did it. My first quarter of nursing school is done. My job is going well on many fronts and until the close down of everything, life was going pretty darn well. And it is now too, just tough with all of the unknowns around this COVID stuff.

I went on my Golden Girls themed cruise in late February. I had a rather delightful time. It was fun to share the stories of the activities. Spending time with my friends was my favorite part. I got to gamble a little, eat a ton of food, have fun sober drinks and lounge in the sun. I am not sure that I really needed much more. What has been rolling around in my head since the cruise is "community". I am going to do my best to explain this because I am not entirely what I am totally getting at with this post. I sure hope it will be clearer at the end. Yeah for writing!

There was a large LGBTQ presence on our cruise. I have been watching people post in the Facebook group devoted to our cruise about how people met lifetime friends on the cruise and everyone bonded so quickly. I noticed that the friends I traveled with made fast connections and seemed to know each other in an instant. Let me preface some of this with a bit about me. I stand at a distance. I need a lot of alone time. On the flip side, I have no problem striking up conversation, etc. etc. I talked with some people here and there in the hot tub and while sitting around soaking up the sun. I had nice conversations. As the cruise ended, though, I didn't feel like I had created a huge network of new friends. Then this word "community" kept coming to me. 

I was able to see my therapist this week despite all the distancing. I consider him essential! It's weird seeing the guy only once a month now and not being a total train wreck walking through the door. I talked this through with him and I said something to the effect of missing a community. I felt like people had bonding so quickly over a mutual experience and mutual interest.  I felt, in a way, it was like the AA community I used to be more active in. The LGBTQ community appeared to bond as quickly as I could bond at Gopher State (statewide AA conference) or an AA meeting with a fellow group of recovering addicts. We all have something in common and the connection feels strong because it is a personal part of who we are and how we live our lives. I did not, for a single moment, feel left out of anything on the cruise. I was invited along all over the place and had many great laughs with the people I did connect with. It just reminded me of something I have been missing as a whole in my life. The cruise ship life isn't really reality for the most part.

2019 was not one of the stronger years of my recovery. I suppose I could argue that and say at least my recovery survived the mess of that year. I am more thinking about how I became more distant from my community. I haven't attended AA on a super regular basis for a few years now. I actually started decreasing my attendance once I started working in the field as a counselor. My daytime was about recovery. My night time was about recovery. My work at home was about recovery. As that job permeated every aspect of my life, the last thing I wanted to do was go to a recovery meeting. What the heck? I just spent the last 100 days about nothing else besides recovery. I need a break from it. But not a big enough break where I actually lose it. 

The first two AA clubs I went to, I encountered a lot of people and connected with many. Over the years there were relapses, people who stopped coming to those specific meetings (after a while it was me) and life got in the way.  I moved in 2015 over to the east side of the cities. I had spent the previous 10 years living in Minneapolis. I knew those clubs inside and out. 2218, Mainstreeters, my Grumpy Old Man Meeting, etc. I could probably still recite most of the times of the meetings. As I moved to the east side, I haven't found the same feeling or connection with any particular group. As I was pondering all of this with my therapist, I realized, I have a problem shutting off the now well trained counselor in me. I can talk recovery. I got ideas. I got suggestions. I simply have an ear if you need it. The problem is, it looks like I have everything 100% together. I felt like I needed to do that when I was a counselor because if I didn't have my own crap figured out, how dare I sit in a chair counseling someone through their recovery? In 2019, when I could feel my recovery starting to wobble, I said very little about it. I mentioned it in therapy at times and did make it to a meeting when it was starting to worry me.

Then, of course, my therapist mentioned the word I really don't like: vulnerability. In order to immerse into any community, there is a touch of vulnerability that is required. Yeah, see, I don't like that so much. When I first entered the rooms in 2010, I was legitimately broken. I was sad. I was heartbroken. I didn't like being sober. I had the Board of Nursing in my business. I had to pee in front of a person three times a week. I could plop right down in a chair and bled my heart out. "I don't like this. I am mad", blah, blah, blah. Well, guess what happened? People came up to me after the meeting and told me, "yeah, I feel that way too." How can you not feel a connection when a person is looking straight at the heart of my sleeve and telling me how similar theirs looks to mine. I was vulnerable all the time. I couldn't stop NOT being vulnerable because it felt so damn good to know I wasn't alone. The more I talked, the more people I met. 

Since 2016, I have lost something when it comes to connecting with other people, family excluded. My friend N on the cruise with me saw it a few times. When people are a slobbering, pathetic mess (usually alcohol was involved on the cruise), they came right up to me and started telling me all of their problems. I am kinda use it now. For some reason, I must have a trustworthy face or aura or something. People I barely even know will gravitate towards me and tell me their deepest, darkest secrets. I have to admit, it's kinda weird. Some days I take it as a compliment; other days, I want to yell "you know, I have problems too." I tend to fall more to the "honored" side because I certainly understand that it takes guts to tell your secrets.

I went down the rabbit hole this past therapy session about vulnerability. What makes me so scared of it? Hundreds of people have been vulnerable with me. I think of them as stronger for it. I go back and forth a lot about what keeps me at a distance with others. It is all my own doing and, of course, the consequence is lacking strong connections with others. To quote my therapist "You spend all this time keeping people at a distance even if they try to engage you. What happens when they finally just stay away?" Well, I guess I can tell you now. There is a bit of loneliness and a bit of safety. I don't like loss. It's too painful. I keep a distance so that IF (in my mind WHEN) things fall apart, I can say "well, we weren't that close anyway."

All of this conjured up some very distinct feelings I had both my freshman year in high school and my sophomore year in college. Honestly, probably after my divorce too but I was really drunk through most of that. My freshman year in high school was great. I had friends. I fit in. I had this fresh new start at a new school. I made friends with all these cool exchange students. We went skiing. We talked on the phone for hours. I felt like I belonged (community). Then, most of friends went back to their homes. My dad had been gone for only 10 months when I realized I missed him and my friends that were bringing some joy back into my life were all gone. Even back then, I didn't cry at my dad's funeral because I didn't want anyone to worry about me (8th grade me). (Oh yeah, this goes WAY back). Fast forward to sophomore year in college. The best year of my college experience. I picked my major. I had friends. I was generally pretty happy. I was having fun. We went home after that year and I went abroad to Germany for my junior year. I really missed my family and friends. I lost my community again and was never able to establish one over there because, well, I was drunk most of the time and isolated.

Year after year, it seemed to happen in one way or another. That loss is incredibly profound to me. It fueled a lot anxiety for me as I graduated college. I kept having to find new communities, so to speak. Oh, I found one at the bar. After 10 years, this "community" bailed on me when I went to get sober. Only saw maybe 1 or 2 people every again after my first treatment out of the 20 or so I knew. Not to mention my divorce which basically validated all of my concerns about me. If I am vulnerable, you will leave. I am too hard to me around (which was actually true during this part of my life - I was usually passed out at any given hour outside of work). In the end, I am right back where I started with a broken heart.

When I walked into treatment and AA and I found my community again - maybe more so than any previous experiences. The recovery community changes often and I started to get that feeling again of losing connections and relationships. I didn't like it, so I distanced myself. Then came grad school and a new career. While I found great people in the field, I never felt like I fit there. I felt like an impostor. The people at SCC were a community to me as well and that has changed because of my own decisions. I also feel that I need to be realistic too. Life changes. Those changes aren't always a reflect of my not being or doing something. It's life. What's our favorite saying in recovery? "Learn to live life of life's terms"   

In the past few days, I have seen another type of community develop, one that I feel like I related with rather well. I have been invited to a half dozen groups on Facebook linking people to online meetings if the AA meetings were canceled. I have watched people do genuinely nice things for others during this difficult time. I have watched my friend put their lives on the line to be the front line workers of this healthcare nightmare. I have seen many posts about being supportive of other people. In the macro sense, I feel oddly comfortable with my community at large. I hope it lasts. It's the micro level that is perplexing me a bit. I am, by no means, depressed or unhappy. In fact, I haven't feel this healthy and generally "good" since about 2016. I am losing weight because I have less stress. I have more energy. I like what I doing at work and I can leave it at home. Things with school are working out great because my next three quarters are all online anyway. I have no income worries. I just picked up a full time position and have health benefit through them. I have a lot of great things going on. In the grand scheme of things, my lack of community is pretty small. I just feel I need to pay attention to it so it doesn't grow into something bigger and more invasive.

The good thing of this all is that I have some control over all of this. I have the ability to change this situation and know the appropriate places to take a shot at working through some things. As much as I would like the past to be the past, any life experience can shape us in ways we weren't expecting. 

The Promises of AA #3: This Promise tells us we should not want to shut the door on the past. When we embrace our past and learn how to see it in a new way it opens new doors for the future. “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.” 

Peace!
​Julie