backing off
For about the duration of the month of December I decided to finally, finally, do something about this persistent addiction that has been actively with me for 26 years. Not a day has passed since the mid 1980's I haven't used or thought about using. (barely using at all for six years now.) Just thinking about it is pacifying enough, usually.
What a brain drain such activity is! Can't be healthy, and could be destructive. So I set out to aggressively attack it. What a miserable month December was! Every step I took to rid myself of it, it sunk itself in deeper, even prompting action to use. I woke it up and it wasn't happy.
So I backed off. It crawled back in its hole, patiently waiting for me, reminding me it's there, but leaving me alone for the most part. This is the way I'm living. Far better than fighting it every day because I know I cannot beat it. I know I'll never stop wanting to use. And yet, knowing I don't NEED to, and most likely won't, seems good enough. Is not that close to the life a recovering addict lives?