* Suddenly, I want to contact people from my past. I’m 57. Looking back on my early years, I know enough now to realize that I must have been very simply disconnected from others, from life around me… from myself.
Looking back, I feel like my existence (until I quit drinking), was wrapped in a mild state of confusion. I didn’t know about people, I didn’t know about life, I didn’t know about myself. I didn’t know. Period.
Sadly, I didn’t even know that I didn’t know.
A friend reminds me to look around at adolescents and grade schoolers. Do they do any better today? Are they remotely aware of much outside their own immediacy? No.
That made me realize that maybe I’m talking of something deeper, if not darker. He also asked me what class office I held as a Senior. Ummm…. me? Are you sure? I remember nothing of the kind. I do remember Leon Korte was the President and Brenda Voigts was Vice President. Really. That’s it. I had no memory of being class secretary.
The growing up experience of my friends seem to include confusion, self-absorption and the blind occupation of trying to survive until adulthood; but the more I ask questions about myself from people who knew me, the more I realize they may know more about me and my history than I do!
What difference does it make? Would I be a better individual if I knew more about my own past reality? Maybe. Maybe not. Identifying my patterns in past relationships might help me surrender them in my current relationships, though. It seems to me that I might try harder to stop those self-protective instincts and become more aware of seeking God’s will in the moment. I don’t know.
I’m still confused. I still don’t know myself. Maybe that’s not what is important. Perhaps I only need to see how the facets of my life have colored other people’s experiences with me and acknowledge whether that experience might have illumined or darkened their lives.
If darkened, then I have a chance to do something about that. I’m not dead. This isn’t my funeral. In fact I don’t plan to have one. I’ve donated my body to Anatomy Gifts Registry.
What’s important now is that I want to live my life like it’s almost too late because it isn’t.
*written in 2008_________________________________________________________________
I’ve since had the privilege of contacting many, making amends to some and reconnecting with several. I do have a better picture of myself now. I’m grateful to those who answered my call and filled in the details I’d lost, and forgave me for the alcoholic behavior, some of which preceded my actual addiction to alcohol itself.
We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. ~ AA p 83