One Foot in Front of the Other

I feel the old me slide into the driver's seat.
He's no longer riding shotgun. Going out the other night fed the obsession.
I do what I'm trained to do. I go to as many meetings as I can in a row and go directly home and get into bed. It had been a good day. I'd just been thinking/noticing how the obsession had been largely lifted since I left *********.
I find out a friend recently died from what you might expect based on where/how we met.
But I see the creeping in of completely odious and absurdly destructive thoughts in brief moments throughout the day.

The reality of this comes and sits on my shoulder.
He's not the first since I left *********.
The reality that this will happen progressively over time weighs on my mightily.
It's always someone else these things happen to....until you realize that to everyone else you are someone else.

I run into a friend on my way to work.
She hands me her little boy.
I hold him and he puts his head on my shoulder after he looks me in the eyes.
For a moment, I don't recoil, and I feel connected to something clean and pure and innocent.

I head to work and the deluge of endlessly finding myself behind schedule begins but I look back and realize I'm at ** days of sobriety and I could be dead or back in jail and I try to feel grateful, but no matter how many times I say it silently, it rings hollow as I think about this fucking disease getting another person.

I try to maintain perspective and be glad that 1) I'm sober, 2) I'm slowly putting into place the behaviors that may keep me thus.....but it is hard.
Things of value usually are....just that.....hard.
I tell myself that this too shall pass and this is tithe for the good days I've had. Wanting to feel good and be good and the like is the hallmark sign of my addiction.

I know now these times pass eventually, but, ....well, there is no but as there once would have been, as it is, I'll be here, minute to minute, hour to hour.....doing what I can to arrest the progression of my condition for one more day.


Good luck and happy hunting,
    - Yrs. in Christ