Seems so strange to be sneaking up on two years. And yet...today I threw away what was left of my meds, including some Skelaxin, Norco, and Percocet. They were nagging me from the drawer in my bathroom and after months of not thinking about them I recently found myself making excuses and dosing for no good reason. It was at night when I was sore, and I basically just faded off and slept well. I took a couple of pills last night and had an awesome night's sleep, but while I was meditating this morning I thought, okay, this qualifies as a few little relapses and I need to move on. I haven't been without painkillers in the house for years - literally - and though I rarely took them, I have a kind of dependence that goes something like, what if something goes wrong with my back? What if I'm suddenly in the kind of pain I was in before the surgery? I know full well, though, that though it is possible I could find myself in horrible pain again, I actually endured the worst of it without painkillers because I was early enough in my sobriety to be terrified of them. I'm getting kind of complacent, and I've started dreaming about getting high again. Oddly enough, I haven't been dreaming about or craving alcohol, but I've been wanting to get high. Perhaps not coincidentally, today marks two years since I last dropped acid, and that paved the way to my last weed and my last alcohol in December of 2013. Thursday I think I'll go to a Big Book study group. I've worked the 12 Steps in my own way, but I haven't done the sponsor thing. I feel like I could just stumble into an opportunity and go with it. True confessions. Remember Philip Seymour Hoffman, may he RIP.