Ghosts of the Past

The ghosts of the past trail me looking for weak moments.  They say that cutting is the only way to get relief . . . They notice me take a long, deep breath of rubbing alcohol fumes that take me back to the days of martinis and blackouts.  How could I long to go back there?  It’s just for a moment but the desire takes over me and it seems like the only option for relief.  It is times like this where I wish I had an SOS button.  An AA person would call his/her sponsor.  But I am silent.  I feel like I have no one.  There is a wise part of me that is that voice of truth – the one that says that cutting or drinking is not the answer.  In the worst of times it is so difficult to hear this voice and my heart breaks into a million fragments and my mind shuts down.

My heart goes out to you if you are experiencing something similar: it is a hellish part of the journey of recovery.  And perhaps you are not able to abstain from the coping mechanisms that promise freedom but trap you instead.  It is a heartbreaking cycle and one that I can identify with all too well.  Try to be kind to yourself.  I will try to give myself some grace as well but today I am overwhelmed with the desire that it was easier to do so.

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