Day 3, again.
What can I say? I'm not sure exactly when I slipped, all I know is that, somehow, it's ended. It's easy to say it should have ended a couple of weeks ago, but when the withdrawal started, I just started up again. Stupid, I know, but at the time, I just didn't want to feel so sh1t.
I've been telling people I've just had 'another bout of flu' a lot over the last fortnight. Because... well it seemed easier.
I've been, physically at least, not so good. I may not have been eating razor blades, but it certainly felt like I had. And yet, this time, I haven't wanted to pick up. Why? Because I know what will happen if I do. Either, if I'm lucky, I manage to quit, except the withdrawal will be worse, or I don't, in which case it's going to kill me. Life or death. It's that simple. And until yesterday, if you'd asked me to choose, I'd have had to tell you, "hold on, let me think about that."
I guess some part of me still wanted somewhere to run to. A 'safe place'. Today, it doesn't. Tomorrow, who knows? Ask me then.
I'm back, I hope. Over the next few days I'll start to feel better. But you know the best feeling? That I never have to go through this again.
Love and Huggs to you all. And may your higher power go with you. x x x