Recovery. Interesting word. Sounds something like regaining or reachieving something that you lost. I feel too young to have lost anything, but I know recovery is very necessary right now. Maybe I’m selling myself and my experience short, maybe I’m not recognizing the lost opportunities because they never presented themselves to me when my eyes were dusky. But either way, I’m quitting, and I can’t do it alone, so until I recruit some help, I’m going to externalize everything I think and feel about this process. Am I afraid, yes. Do I fear relapse, yes. Do I know how hard this is going to be? Probably not. Will I rationalize the need again? I can see myself doinf that, yea. I’ve numbed alot of feelings over the past few years, forgot what it feels like to talk intelligently about whats on my heart, severed that 18 in cord that connects that muscle of blood in my chest to that bundle of nerves in my skull. But to God be the Glory, the body recovers. Divinely. One day at a time they always say. I feel more like Im going to have to do this 6 hours at a time. It sounds tedious. It even feels tedious. But its necessary. I wanna see my kids, and breath easy. I wanna lose weight and be healthy, stop oscillating so much. It’s like people can tell when I’m binging. I know I can, and if people just paid close enough attention to the small things sometimes, they’d know it to. There’s a lot of shame in it, feeling like you can’t control an addiction. Like willpower isn’t enough. Then there’s the shame of falling back into it, an admittance of weakness that guilts you even farther into your addiction. Ugly cycle. Very ugly cycle. And it hurts. Physically. My body aches and feels sluggish, I get heavy. I feel tired and lazy. I dont work, I dont read, I dont clean, I dont cook, I dont grow. I dont take good care of myself in those moments. Those strings of moments. Those highways of moments. Raging currents of despair and shame and guilt and broken pride and promises. hmm. Yea it’s going to be hard. I poured out my alcohol though. Broke my last cigarette and tossed my lighter in the dumpster (cuz if I’da jus threw it in the trash I’d surely go back in for that mothafucka later)…but this is a good start. Not ideal, but its a start. God, you are my strength.
