Two, Five, and Ten

 One of the Experience, Strength, and Hope personal anecdotes I share often in meetings is my Two, Five, and Ten theory of recovery: to wit, it took me two years of strenuous Step work before I was able to pull my head at least halfway out of my ass; five years before I had a real, practical working idea of what a Higher Power was; and at ten years I had evolved into the person I am today, more or less.  None of these dates are meant to be firm and will vary from person to person as long as said person is diligent about his/her recovery program.  And this info is meant to be positive - I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad about the slow pace of recovery but rather to encourage them to keep at it, especially after the dramatic gains of early sobriety ebb away.  

What has become more and more apparent over the years is that these periods of awakening still happen as I move along in life.  Several years ago I let go of some low level, slow burning resentments at friends in my old towns who didn't make as much of an effort to stay in touch with me as I did to stay in touch with me.  Just quite recently I have managed - thanks, perversely, in part to the political rift I perceive in Alcoholics Anonymous - to come to the realization that it does me no good at all to hold any resentments at all to friends who are going elsewhere or have chosen a different recovery path.  I have no doubt there were people in Cincinnati who thought I was a dick for leaving or people here in SoCal who think I'm an idiot for continuing to attend a meeting that they find lacking.  So I make phone calls when the spirit moves me and I listen to music when it doesn't, which has become a lot more common.  You know what?  I love listening to music - music is one of the greatest joys in my life - and the sense of relief at not having to keep in frequent contact with so many different people is actually a much bigger relief than I would have imagined.