How to Show Up

The remarkable progress and small miracle of simply showing up. Philip Larkin. App survey! New tunes.

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These Sunday posts are mostly paywalled. But I don't want to exclude anyone, so if the cost is prohibitive or you wish to send TSB to someone you love, contact me. I'll happily pass along a free annual subscription to those who need it most.

Let’s hit Sunday. — AJD

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When I showed up last week for my uncle's funeral, it was a last-minute, four-flight, 40-hour trek with layovers in Boston on both ends. It was a haul, especially since there was a red-eye on the way east. The six-hour red-eye used to be my favorite type of flight (strutting off that plane after a 30 mg Adderall kicked in to smoke a cigarette made me feel like a 70s rock star), but the last few times I’ve taken them, although sober as a cloth napkin, it felt like I had all my organs removed by the time I landed. There weren't many flight options to jump on at the last minute. That fact alone would have been a perfect excuse for me not to attend. 

Another problem: I wore my "funeral outfit" for my cousin's wedding last year, but couldn't find it. We moved into a new place a few months later, and my coat, pants, tie, and shirt disappeared somewhere in the transition. This is the type of setback that would also cause me to bail. I alerted my sister that I might have to stop at TJ Maxx before the service to pick up some things for the wedding. She said that was fine and I'd be happy to drive me. 

I packed a bag full of clothes I might be able to wear if time becomes a factor. I threw some T-shirts, five pairs of underwear, every pair of pants I own, a gray coat that resembles a sports coat except that it doesn't go below the belt, and some black dress shoes I bought on eBay a few years ago that I only wore once because they're very noisy. Packing in that scatterbrained, panicky mode gave me the shivers since it was how I used to roll through the world pre-sobriety. Had I not grown out of this behavior yet?