Progress not Perfection – Is that the Problem?

 

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I have been reasonably quiet of late in blogging.  I have just come through a rather hectic work life, my wife and my personal existence is chaotic to say the least as we both transition toward our retirements – although she has just opened a new storefront and I am lining up projects that will keep me nearly as busy as I am today.

In my 30 years of sobriety, two of my favorite AA clichés have been “Process not an Event” (hence the name of this blog) and “Progress not Perfection (the title of this post).  Both concepts are mainstays of my recovery.  They remind me that if I continue living into recovery, then I will continue to make progress every day.  I should not expect perfection just because I no longer drink or drug.  Rather recovery is all about process, the growth.  I can very honestly reflect back on any period of time and see where that growth has occurred – consistently and without question.  Like almost everything else in recovery, these sentiments permeate all aspects of my life.

That leads me back to the topic of this particular post – and I am wondering – when is it good enough?   I don’t mean this as a matter of resting on our laurels and proclaiming myself “cured” of alcoholism.  But as an employee in higher education, and I am certain this holds true in many or most careers these days, I am wholly bored with the notion that what we produce is never good enough – that there is always one more class to teach, one more article to publish, one more conference to attend – in that perpetual progression toward an unattainable perfection.

Instead, I am coming to see the process less as a conscientious move in a progressive direction but rather, simply being one with the progress.  That is, perhaps it is time to stop pushing and dragging on the progress process, but simply and actively being the process along a nonlinear circuitous path.  I am grateful that recovery has provided me with that opportunity.

Sister Loretta Rose

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Brick from St. Peter and Paul Grade School

Through Facebook, I tangentially keep up with the news from the grade school from which I graduated in 1966.  None of my classmates from that year like the page, but some of the last names are familiar and I assume to be their siblings.  Through the FB page, I learned that the school had been torn down a few years ago, nothing but a small pile of bricks left for the sentimental such as myself.

A couple of days ago on FB, a woman says she was thinking about my 6th grade teacher – Sister Loretta Rose.  The woman said she knew that she had changed her name to Sister Margaret Zureick – and what’s that all about, new identities, life phases, etc.?

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Sister Margaret Zureick

So the woman does some sleuthing and locates this nun who ministers at the St. Joseph the Worker Mission in Elk Horn City, Kentucky.  Here is a youtube link about the place.  That all got me to thinking about a few things.

  • If you do the math, the former Sister Loretta Rose was in her mid-20s and I was maybe 11 when she was my 6th grade teacher.  I always thought of the nuns as being so old.  In fact, looking back with over 50 years hindsight, we are much more of the same generation, nearly peers.
  • Within 10 years of my graduating from the school, Sister Loretta Rose gave up the teaching gig and plopped herself into the economically devastated coal fields of eastern Kentucky.  In fact, the urban blue-collar area of southwest Ohio in which I was raised was, and still is, largely a migrant Appalachian community.
  • To a certain extent, Sister Margaret Zureick and I ended up in a similar places – she in Appalachia, myself in an underserved African-American community in Memphis, supplemented with my  now regular gigs to the impoverished regions of the Peruvian Andes.
  • I have taken a bunch of detours along the way.  By the 6th grade, I experienced the freedom that alcohol brought from my childhood depression and angst.  I bounced all over the country with my self-will run riot leading the way on a path of destruction for nearly two decades until I started down a path of recovery.  Sister Loretta Rose seems to have started out as a young woman with a vision who has lived a life of service from the start – though I suspect the story is not really that neat and clean.

The woman on FB noted that Sister Margaret does not have an FB account, but she got the nun’s phone number, called her, and the good sister remembered fondly her time at our grade school and “talked her arm off.”

I feel a road trip coming on for the eight-hour drive to Elk Horn City to visit Sister Margaret Zureick at the St. Joseph the Worker Mission to find another piece of life’s puzzle.

Gratitude to be a Part of the World

treetangle4I had an interesting convergence in the past few days.  I subscribe to a regular post by Quora where folks respond to questions or prompts.  One recent post was  What images will change the way a person views the world after seeing them?  There were several hundred photos posted and I scanned through a bunch of them.  Many of the pictures were of the type that put me in the frame of mind that I really have nothing at all in life to complain about – my existence is really awfully damn good.  Others were of normal people doing heroic things.  I have been given much more than I need in all respects and really live a quite privileged and carefree existence.  Despite my drinking and drugging in the past, because of my demographic and geographic location, my recovery has really been incredibly blessed.

And then this week, a couple of things happened that normally would have put me into anxiety mode, but they didn’t.

The simple lesson for me is that if my mind, body, and spirit are in a good place, then I am more able to deal with life on life’s terms.  This is not just a matter of thinking that others have it worse off than I, but instead, that I live best when I am connected to and in community with all of creation – when I am not living above or below but with the world.

I am grateful for my recovery and the opportunity to be part of the luminous web of the world.

Prescription Drugs in Recovery

treeup4Note – I am not a doctor of medicine and have no qualifications to speak on the subject of prescription medicines beyond my own personal experience.  Further, I DO NOT believe that being in recovery is inconsistent with taking narcotics or other mood altering substances in medical treatment.

I had an interesting experience this past week with prescription medications.  I had some minor surgery where normally the patient is put to sleep.  I talked to the doctor in advance and discussed my preference for local anaesthetic only.  He agreed that if I could handle the sense of hammering and grinding – but with no pain – then a local could work.

The surgery went well – perfect procedure.  We discussed prescriptions needed after the surgery – an antibiotic and pain medications.  The surgeon wrote me a prescription for some sort of narcotic if I found myself in intense pain, but also gave me a script for 800 mg ibuprofen.  I very rarely take any sort of pain medication, even aspirin.  The only time I have taken a narcotic in recovery was after a previous surgery where the throbbing was so great I could not sleep – took one pill – and flushed the rest.

This time I got all the scripts filled, and did one of those 5 second – even though I am not in any real pain, maybe I will take the narcotic just tonight so I sleep well. I ended up just taking the ibuprofen and left it at that.  I woke up the next morning and was amazed at the lack of pain.  I took the ibuprofen along with the antibiotic and followed the proscribed regimen.  After three days I decided taking the ibuprofen wasn’t necessary as I was in no pain, so I stopped – then a mild pain that started – nothing unbearable – more just a minor soreness to let me know I had some surgery and it was healing.

I did not start back on the ibuprofen but had a sort of “aha” moment.  When I noticed the slight pain my first thought was – I wish I had not masked this with the ibuprofen before – I need to know to take it easy a bit.  That is, it is good to be in touch with my physical self as I go through the healing process.  That has also been my response over the years when therapists offered to prescribe antidepressants – which I have always refused.  For me, depression is a signal that I need to make some changes in how I am dealing with life on life’s terms.  Depression has been the motivating factor in me dealing stagnation and unhealthy life situations.  My logic has always been that antidepressants would mask that reality.

I tend to think of myself as a reasonably carefree and content person who is good at what they do, responsible, and therefore find myself in work and personal situations that can be stressful.  My line goes something like “If the job were so easy and enjoyable that everyone wants to do it, there wouldn’t have been the opening that I applied for.”

What I have come to enjoy in recovery is the recognition that like all life situations, surgery has its consequences that must be dealt with.  I have come to appreciate going through those processes in a mindful and present manner – whether in recovery from a surgical procedure or the processes of daily living.  I also appreciate knowing when prescribed drugs, professional therapy, or other measures are needed in that process, I can make the choice to take advantage of them.

Not Regretting the Past

DSC_0502Early on in sobriety I had regrets over the time I considered wasted in a drunken state of existence.  Besides the path of chaos and upheaval I left along a good bit of the length of the Mississippi River, I used to think about how I was behind everyone else some 15 or so years, just in living life.  I got sober at the age of 32, which at that time seemed quite old.  Now at the age of 62, that seems young.

 I have posted before about how my specific recollections of the past are not really the same of other folks directly involved in those past experiences.  I have also reflected on the concept of the Wounded Healer in recovery and the true blessing and responsibility that entails.

I am perhaps more reflective on this as I lean toward my formal “retirement” from a 40 hour (make that more like 60-70) per week employment to an existence where I will be more selective in how I spend my time and energy.

I definitely consider my getting sober as a benchmark of change and difference.  In sobriety, I have never once just laid in bed, wishing I could just go back to sleep for the entire day because I could not face life – or immediately jumped up to look out the bedroom window to see where my car was because I had no recollection of coming home the night before.  Those are the simple gifts of sobriety.

The challenge of sobriety is living into the recovery of “practicing these principles in all our affairs.”  I thoroughly enjoy that today I have the opportunity to put back what I have taken.  Today, I have that choice.

Mardis Gras 1977, Mardis Gras 2015

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Mardis Gras 2015 in front of my wife’s store on Magazine St.

Before this year, the last time I was in New Orleans for Mardis Gras was in 1977.  I still had seven years of drinking and drugging to do before getting sober in 1984.  My most vivid memory of 1977 Mardis Gras was running down Magazine after the parades ended – I was running in a state of alcoholic hallucination – fearing that my brain was flying out of my head and if I stopped running it would get too far ahead of me and I would never be able to get it back.  I don’t really remember how that story ended as I blacked out somewhere and awoke some time later.

I have posted before about my experiences of living in New Orleans in the 1970s and my gratitude about being able to return now to my favorite city to live in sobriety.  Mardis Gras 2015 has been such an experience.  This year I stand on Magazine St. and hold up one of my granddaughters so she can have a better shot at getting some of throws from the floats.  I am grateful for the opportunity to do this all again.