Random Musings At 40

I’m grateful for booking a trip back to NYC next month to visit family. I’m grateful to be in a mental headspace where returning home isn’t a trigger to upend things, but rather an opportunity to make peace. I’m grateful for a joyful anniversary meeting where folks with varying years shared honestly about their recovery journeys. I’m grateful for listening to my body and instead of pushing myself to run like the addict I tend to be, I took a rest day to heal and (hopefully) regain my strength for tomorrow. I’m grateful for preventive medication that is easily available nowadays and works real miracles. I’m grateful for an event I was hoping would come to fruition not happening because it shifted me to accept, let go, and take stock of what truly matters. I’m grateful for watching a TV show that reminded me of the privileges I have as a gay man in this country and knowing I should use that privilege to empower me to be the most authentic version of myself. I’m grateful for becoming better at being vulnerable and asking for help rather than playing the self-limiting lone wolf card. I’m grateful for a long, rich conversation with my cousin about how to share some life news with my parents and getting solid advice from her on how to meet them with empathy, kindness, and love. I’m grateful for and proud of the life I’ve built in sobriety.

This past week I turned 40. Investigating my feelings around hitting this milestone have been revealing. Mostly positive, but there is always stuff to ruminate on that is a little harder to address. To start off I’ll say even going through the exercise of quiet reflection on the past ten years is never something I’d do during my drinking days. It was the much too familiar search for external validation to confirm how I should think about myself. Of course when the right form of validation failed to happen in the fashion I wanted, the maladaptive next solution was drinking till I blacked out. Should I consider even for a second the repercussions of my behavior? Perhaps research whether what my gut was telling is healthy? Nope.

My early 30s is when my drinking problem began ramping up. I recently glanced at pictures from January 2015 on my phone. It was rough. I can see my face hollowing out, my eyes constantly glassy. Knowing what’s soon to come over the next few years makes me scared and sad. I still had enough of the outside accomplishments in place right at 30 so people weren’t too suspicious. Shortly thereafter though I would radically devolve. Losing relationships left and right, becoming virtually unemployable, and engaging regularly in risky behaviors. Life was devoid of peace.

But I don’t have to drink today or wallow in self-pity while recollecting what has already happened. As I enter a new decade, my life is complex, like most people on this planet, but ultimately quite rewarding. I have a design for living in the form of the 12 Steps that I can rely on to keep me centered when things go right, when things go wrong, and for everything in between. Sure, I have the tinge of regret in the back of my head wishing I hadn’t thrown away the multitude of blessings bestowed on me by prioritizing drinking. However, I am learning ways to transform that sadness and regret into wisdom, service, and acceptance of the bad for if it all hadn’t happen then I wouldn’t have what I have now.

I wasn’t equipped to handle the variety of riches I was given at 30. I didn’t have the life skills to interact with the world in ways that protected my mental health. For whatever reasons I needed to withstand more tumult before I could figure out a sustainable existence. There’s a straightforward AA phrase I often repeat to myself: “time takes time”. I like it because it reminds me to practice patience, a concept I forget easily. I needed time in my addictions to gather more evidence on how not to exist. In recovery I feel I can regularly lean on that past evidence to fuel my passion for keeping me away from a drink and to stay curious around expanding my emotional sobriety.

Recovery will definitely take time. Hopefully it’ll take the rest of my life. Overnight my vices, my regrets, my traumas will not subside. It will be a process. I just need to stay disciplined around investing in the process. When I get bored or complacent at certain junctures then I should spice things up. It may involve going to new meetings, searching for sponsees, picking up another healthy routine, finding opportunities to be of service to my fellow humans, etc. I am just beyond relieved that I got the chance to turn things around. I could have very easily died or inflicted some even more serious damage given my inebriated antics. Somehow I was spared. I was given an olive branch by the Universe to do better. While I still momentarily forget to do that, I feel my general trend line for achieving good is following the correct, upward direction. Getting to 40 and knowing I can find ways to live serenely if I stay sober are tremendously rewarding personal achievements.

Last week my partner and I went on a mini road trip for my birthday. One of the places we visited was the Grand Canyon, which I hadn’t been to since I was 11 or 12 years old. While driving there I thought about that memorable vacation in my youth where we’d gone with some extended family. During it I was introduced by my cousin to one of my favorite ’90s bands, The Cranberries, and my favorite song of theirs, Dreams (funnily enough it was through the Mission Impossible soundtrack). Growing up in a strict, traditionalist immigrant household I wasn’t allowed to listen to Western music so hearing this song, this band, was a revelatory experience as a child. Last week as we entered the park I thought to myself how much life has changed since that trip. I am such a different person. I have gone through a wealth of crazy experiences. Yet there are constants. My love for Dreams continues. The epic natural vista before me has barely changed and will probably not in my lifetime. These thoughts about time’s passage swirled around in my head. Trying to grasp how life can simultaneously go by so quickly and so slowly was trippy. If I ever visit the Grand Canyon again in the future, what else will have changed? What will be the same?

Having these existential thoughts was humbling. I can never pretend to fathom how the world works in the ways that it does. What I can do though is focus on my daily actions. I can bring it back to the minute details of my existence. I can utilize the short time I have on this Earth relatively speaking to keep engaging in productive activities that permit me to learn, to grow, and to be of service. Dwelling on resentments, petty power plays, and other self-destructive matters only ensures life passes by quickly. Daily peace for me will come through daily work in this Program. Thank you AA for helping me not only reach four decades of life, but also willingly inhabit a space of reflection and revelation.

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