I wonder whether children today still play leapfrog? making that chain of bodies which moves gradually along the field, as the leaper takes their turn to bend for the next child to jump? or is it a game of the past, of the Appalachian mountains in the early part of the last century, where I sourced this image. the modern equivalent game of Leapfrog being a computerised aid to learning to read?

not bemoaning it. I did play it, but was not particularly fond of it myself. there were too many random factors, like other people accidentally or deliberately kicking you on the ear, or the fact that smaller players collapsed under larger ones or couldn’t get over them. I liked things to be fair, and controllable. give me a set of detailed rules where the only random factor was the roll of the dice, and I could happily play for hours. marathon Monopoly games that went on for days, despite the begging of my siblings to be allowed to escape. “But that’s the best thing about Monopoly! I know you’ve only got Old Kent Road and ยฃ6, but you could still win!” (they couldn’t.) perhaps I should take it up again now. the inertia and tedium of it transformed into a meditative experience by its contrast to the never ending to do list of a working mother’s life…

any hoo, back to the goalposts and the leapfrogging…

I’m hurtling headlong now towards the megalithic milestone of one year.

ruins at Baalbek, Southern Siberia. natural/manmade?

and I’m very conscious that as I approached my 100 day and 180 day milestones I found it really helpful to pre-empt the milestone with another vow, another promise. so I was never left dangling at the furthest extent of my bungee rope, with no-where else to go but back up.

going back up, is, of course, the IDEAL in bungee jumping. not so much in getting sober. perhaps I should just take a solemn vow to never, ever bungee jump? this would not be difficult for me as I can actually feel my heart racing just CHOOSING AN IMAGE. hurrah! an addiction I DONโ€™T have!

but with seven days to go to my one year I have no apparent inclination to make a new vow, choose a new goalpost. and don’t know whether this is a natural progression of sobriety or a yawning chasm in my path.

Doris Salcedo’s ‘Shibboleth’ at the Tate Modern. highly disturbing…

I am familiar with that fear of a crack opening up beneath my feet, of seemingly certain ground giving way. and I want to protect myself against it, but I also sense that by constructing possibly redundant goals in my future I might be shrinking back into the familiar cave of earlier sobriety. when in fact I could be striding freely out across open fields, with no Garmin on my wrist tracking my pace.

I have some medium term goals… thinking about running another half marathon in the Spring. not yet signed up for it…will probably commit to an additional period of time for the UFYD project (more on that in another post. which as ever you are welcome to ignore in your reader ๐Ÿ˜‰ ) and in the two months after my anniversary there will be Christmas and my first ‘proper’ sober New Year to do. last year I stamped my foot at New Year and we Stayed In.ย board games were committed. this year we will be going to friends for a full-hog celebration. which I am not worried about, but will be another sober first to navigate.

but no big ‘must get to Y’ point in my head. if you’ve been through this yourself I’d really appreciate any thoughts you have.

at the moment I am simply very, very happy to be sober, and to have the prospect of that stretching out before me with all its unknowns and potential.

perhaps my goal is justย to see what I can become during this next year?ย 

I will be here, in any case –

telling my stories around this virtual fire. keeping that wolf away. thanks for listening.

7 days to go to one year!

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