Day 362
Perhaps the best short description of my being in the throes of sexually addictive acting-out is that I cared only about myself. Of course, I told myself differently, but all my actions and the memories that remain of my thoughts are conclusive that I was willing to put everything and everyone in my life — and theirs — at risk for the acquisition of a 'fix' and the constant pursuit of pleasure over pain.
I refuse to believe that I am, or was, that person without some factor of deranged brain chemistry involved. Some might alternatively argue for demon possession, and I wouldn't resist, pending the definition of the demonic. My thoughts are clear enough now to know that if I ever go back there… I just can't imagine long-surviving such a thing, much less a second return to any sort of normalcy. It would be a catastrophic failure of my values and intentions.
Yes, I am afraid of that. Yes, I am respectfully fearful of that part of my brain — or an infirmed spirit — gaining control for even a minute, so maybe 'one day at a time' is even too long; my sobriety is earned each minute. I want to say each second, but I've not yet found a way to avoid altogether those failures measured in ticks of the clock.
For now, I am content that seconds are not becoming minutes, and that with the help of my Higher Power, I will not slip back into acting-out. At least not today!
–JR
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