In recovery we are taught to call for help. In prayer, on the phone, in person, just ask. If we feel that we are in a distressful situation, just call out.
This morning, I woke up to thoughts and feelings of less-than. You know, the feeling that maybe it’s just best that you crawl back into the shell that has your name on it, otherwise known as isolation, and just be done with trying to reach beyond. I know the way back, and I know I can pull the blinds and squirrel myself away, and hang out the “do not disturb” sign.
Then, when people tire of trying to draw me out, I can indulge myself in endless rounds of self-pity and low-level self-loathing, saying it was stupid to believe for a moment that I ever could make it on the outside and I should just stay holed up inside myself, and understand that I am too broken and worthless to be of any use to anyone, except what service I can provide them if called upon.
This, my friends is the siren call of relapse. And it has my name tattooed on its ugly shriveled hand, wrapped around my arm to pull me under.
Relapse is never a big event. It is all the little things. The small things that the enemy uses to pry open the can of self-worth and begin to try to siphon out the contents. If I don’t call it out, and participate in things that keep that part of my life filled and leave no room for invasion, then I am vulnerable. When the can begins to echo with hollow feelings of sadness because I feel not I am good enough, the alarm bells and whistles need to go off and go off LOUD.
So they did. And I asked God for help. He then came to me in my distress and showed me right where the root of the problem was, and where I could start addressing it. Sometimes, it takes talking it out with a trusted recovery friend to get the to heart of the matter. But I know where I must start, and there are several steps I must take to put things back on the right course.
One thing that I can’t control, but must acknowledge, is the time of year. The next couple months through the end of the year are tough for me. So, the things I can control need to be in order so that I can gracefully travel through the next few months and not tank myself completely. My sponsor will not be pleased if I end up under the futon.
Much Love and transparency.