I kind of knew that the day would come when I would have a relapse, and I thought it would be easy to do a write-up about it and how I would feel like a failure and what I'm doing to recover from it. I thought I would come out of it stronger or that there would be a feeling of devastation or loss.
Problem is that writing about it is not easy at all, and it's taken about a week for me to figure out how to write about it and I still don't have an answer.
The thing that surprised me most about my relapse a week ago is that absolutely nothing happened. I'm not sure what I expected, but what I expected certainly wasn't nothing. I didn't feel too much guilt. There was nobody there to set me straight or to shame me. I didn't feel like calling out to anybody. I didn't feel like God was rolling his eyes and that I let Him down. It was like the countless number of times I had indulged when I was thick into my addiction. Just medicate, and get on with life. Nobody knows, nobody cares, and nobody got hurt.
But a few days after, I'm starting to realize that feeling nothing is something, and it's what started this whole mess in the first place. Prior to the relapse I was a whirlwind of emotion. I was feeling the crippling guilt, the shame and the damning sadness for all the things I put my wife and family through. Moreso, I felt empty, lonely and desperate for change in my life.
For the days after my relapse: nothing. Of course, there's still some of the sadness in moments when I'm with my kids, or am in close enough proximity to my wife to feel that warm but painful energy that only love or heartbreak can bring. But overall, I feel like there's a numbness all over my body and soul as if somebody shot novocaine straight into my heart.
I know that it makes me so much more prone to relapse again, as I'm so unaware of how the addiction is affecting me now. I'm no longer white-knuckling sobriety and my guard is down. I haven't relapsed again, but the big problem is that I just feel so safe with the addiction.
When I close my eyes, there are so many things that the addict in me is saying right now:
Problem is that writing about it is not easy at all, and it's taken about a week for me to figure out how to write about it and I still don't have an answer.
The thing that surprised me most about my relapse a week ago is that absolutely nothing happened. I'm not sure what I expected, but what I expected certainly wasn't nothing. I didn't feel too much guilt. There was nobody there to set me straight or to shame me. I didn't feel like calling out to anybody. I didn't feel like God was rolling his eyes and that I let Him down. It was like the countless number of times I had indulged when I was thick into my addiction. Just medicate, and get on with life. Nobody knows, nobody cares, and nobody got hurt.
But a few days after, I'm starting to realize that feeling nothing is something, and it's what started this whole mess in the first place. Prior to the relapse I was a whirlwind of emotion. I was feeling the crippling guilt, the shame and the damning sadness for all the things I put my wife and family through. Moreso, I felt empty, lonely and desperate for change in my life.
For the days after my relapse: nothing. Of course, there's still some of the sadness in moments when I'm with my kids, or am in close enough proximity to my wife to feel that warm but painful energy that only love or heartbreak can bring. But overall, I feel like there's a numbness all over my body and soul as if somebody shot novocaine straight into my heart.
I know that it makes me so much more prone to relapse again, as I'm so unaware of how the addiction is affecting me now. I'm no longer white-knuckling sobriety and my guard is down. I haven't relapsed again, but the big problem is that I just feel so safe with the addiction.
When I close my eyes, there are so many things that the addict in me is saying right now:
- Nobody cares about my addiction, and with the divorce I'm no longer hurting anybody by acting out.
- I've gone 5 days "sober" with little effort after I acted out. Perhaps letting myself indulge every once in a while is better than the hard path of stressing myself out every day.
- Sobriety is of very little importance compared to being truthful and honest about it.
- It just feels better to feel nothing.
- I'm making huge progress.
The addiction I have is like a best friend. It tells me the truth from their point of view. It might not be the full reality, but it sure sounds like it. I actually do believe all of the above, and arguably it's all true. Very true in fact. But I have to keep reminding myself that, while the above may be true, this friendship I have with my addiction is very toxic. It's not healthy, it's enabling and I can't listen to these targeted truths that weaken my soul.
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