Time to out my bad old self again. And express gratitude to my program of recovery for bailing me out once more.
I am thankful in particular for the following piece of sober wisdom:
As we go through the day we pause when agitated or doubtful and ask for the right thought or action.
Slowing my roll is a huge part of staying sober: Restraint and moderation, taking a breath before speaking or acting. When I act out impulsively, when I unloose negative emotions, I am likely to experience the resentments, relationship conflict and intolerable emotional pain that trigger my addiction.
And so I am very grateful that I paused when agitated recently and checked in with my Higher Power. It made all the difference.
Some of my readers may be familiar with my emotionally unsober antics on Amtrak’s quiet car, and the many lessons I learned there about trying to control a situation over which I had no power. Since the beginning of the pandemic, I have been unable to play Queen of the Rails, but my desire to take command and enforce justice where I have no business doing so is alive and well.
I have, as you may have noticed, simply switched the focus of my need to control from the train to the streets of my DC neighborhood.
And so it was that I found myself on a recent afternoon once again fuming on my dog walk, ignoring the sweetness of cool spring air and pastel azaleas in glorious bloom. The object of that day’s righteous wrath was another of my poor neighbors, whose crime, I noted, was not only a failure to mask up when out in his backyard but also, I observed from a distance as I embarked on my stroll, allowing his large doberman to run unleashed up and down the alley behind our houses. My tiny Lhasa, Kirby, correctly leashed as usual, would be no match, and perhaps even a quick snack, for this wild beast on the loose when we returned as we usually did via the alley.
But thanks be to sobriety no such scene came to pass.
As Kirby and I meandered down the alley on our return, I noticed that the gates to my neighbor’s yard were closed and the doberman was gamboling safely within. Not only that but when I paused in my agitation, conferred with my Higher Power about how to behave, and chose to greet rather than glare at my neighbor, he invited me and Kirby to join him and his dog in the backyard. We did, and the dogs cavorted around happily while my homie and I made pleasant small talk. After a few minutes, Kirby and I left, with a smiling invitation to come back any time for more off-leash play.
I returned home, humbled and relieved that my Higher Power had saved me from an unnecessary conflict with the fellow up the street. And observed that sometimes ’tis I who needs leashing.
I feel very grrrateful.
