A quote from Alice in Wonderland
“There is no use trying,” Alice said. “One can’t believe impossible things.”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice, ” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
Getting sober opens up a new realm of possibilities. The impossible becomes the what if, and maybe or, even, reality. Time for a (long) story…..
When I was about a year sober I traveled out west with a friend that I has met in the program. We had been fishing in the North Georgia mountains together a few times before. Our trip to Montana was like a dream come true. Trout streams filled with native (not stocked) fish. The Rocky Mountains, not the comparatively small Appalachians. And just the fact that we were going to do something we wanted to do that was good, and good for us, was a novel thing. To say we were excited was an understatement.
A whole other story, which I won’t get into now, is that I had discovered as I was getting sober that I really loved being outdoors. It felt right to me and made me feel better spiritually. Hence Montana was a really cool idea of a place to get to go. So that too was working on me as our time to leave approached. I built up a lot of positive expectations of what this trip was going to be like.
It turned out our trip was far, far better than we could have possibly imagined. The fishing was better. The scenery was way better. All that we saw while we were there just boggled our minds. Things like moose, elk and an eagle catching a trout right out of the water. We also did things I would never have imagined. One day we hired someone to take us miles into the mountains, on horseback, to some high elevation lakes.
The place we stayed for most of the trip out west was fairly remote. We did though fly into a larger city and we had to return there to fly home. I decided to stop at the local university there and check it out. I had drank my way out of college when I was 19. With my life starting to get somewhat back in order in sobriety, I had been thinking I might want to go back to school. This was the first time I visited an actual school, and most of what I did was just walk around a bit and go pick up a catalog and application. Really I just did it on a whim.
As we were boarding the plane later that day, I had a quick series of thoughts pass through my mind that changed my life. The first part was that I thought how cool it would be to live in Montana and go to school at the place I just visited. My next thought was that I couldn’t do that, followed by “why not?”
Why these thoughts? What else was behind them?
The first thought, moving to Montana, was something that had been building in me during my visit. I realized if I was able to live in a place like I just experienced that it could really help me to develop spiritually. There is a lot to this (another story to tell at another time) but I knew it would do me a lot of good to be able to live in a place that was not so busy and full of so many people. It was more peaceful, less disturbing somehow, and I surely was learning that I felt a lot closer to God when I was out in nature.
My second thought, about how I couldn’t move to Montana, was just a reflex. Drinking had taught me that I could dream all I wanted but I couldn’t accomplish much. At just 23 I had largely been beaten down enough that I had pretty much given up on thinking things could or would work out for me. Good stuff was just beyond my ability to have happen. So this thought of “no way” was just a natural thought pattern of mine whenever I would think of something good I wanted for my life.
The next thought was a direct result of living sober and doing what I was told to do to recover – Why not? What would stop me from moving to Montana? I did want to go back to school and there was what seemed like a fine school there. And why shouldn’t I have the opportunity to nurture my soul by living in a place that would support my spiritual growth?
Why not. Those two words rang through my head on the plane trip home and for days to come. It was like something had been altered in my pysche. A new part of being sober had tripped on inside me. Instead of slowly dying by giving up on so many things I was awakening to living. The idea of moving to Montana at first blush seemed like an impossible thing. Being sober and having good reasons for wanting to go, well that made it somehow begin to seem like it might be an alright thing to do.
That simple series of thoughts I had as I was leaving Montana set me on a path that took me on an amazing journey in sobriety. I did eventually move to Montana and I stayed for six years. The journey was not entirely smooth or easy. I had to leave my home group and all that I got sober with behind. I had to try to understand if I was supposed to go, and how to make it happen and pull a lot of things together once it was clear I could and should head west. I was happy – and scared – when I moved.
So much of that time in Montana was just magical. I earned a degree. I held a number of exciting and fun jobs. I stayed sober. I made friends there, over twenty years ago, that were in my wedding party last year. My spiritual life expanded and grew tremendously. And I grew up.
I remember literally sitting on a mountain side one day about a month before I was set to move from there (yet another story, my leaving there and why). I was thinking about life. Why it was right to leave, even though in so many ways I did not want to go.
Moving does of course make you reflective in helpful ways. I thought about all I had accomplished while I was living there. And I suddenly had the realization I was no longer the scared boy that had arrived in Montana. I had arrived two years sober, unsure of myself in so many ways, but willing to be adventuresome and full of faith that all would be fine.
Everything had changed in the six year adventure that had just unfolded. I had succeeded in school and earned a degree. I had also literally fought forest fires in the mountains. I held that job for five summers and the last few years I was in charge of the fires I was sent on. That meant I had to get the job done and keep the people that were with me safe. People had given me responsibility, relied on me and respected me. I had learned to honor such trust and to respond well by doing what was expected of me.
I also knew I had grown spiritually in ways I never would have imagined. I was also coming to realize my time in Montana was a period of necessary introspection. I did live with and around people but I also spent a lot of time by myself, and by myself outdoors. Many damaged places inside my soul had been healed by the time I spent in the mountains. An intense period of going inward is fine and can be productive but it proved to not be what I, nor most people, need for the long term. So this time was over and it was time to go.
I had believed that the impossible was possible, six years earlier, and it changed everything.
I guess I want to end by reiterating that last point. If you are sober and can’t seem to believe that things can’t get better for you, that is it just impossible, I would say that you need to believe in the impossible. I did, way back in 1988, and I know it to be true today. This shift in my thinking changed my life and it can change yours.
Wishing you all the best in sobriety,
AA Blogger