"But the most important count I do has nothing to do with work. It's the number of days since April [24, 2014]. As of this morning, that's [1,025]. The bigger that number gets, the more it frightens me, because I know all it takes is one [dip] to go back to zero. Most people see fear as a weakness. It can be. Sometimes for my job, I have to put fear in other people. I know that's not right. But if I'm honest, like the fourth step asks us to be, I have to be ruthless, because failure is not an option. The same goes for my sobriety. I have to be ruthless with myself. I have to use my fear. It makes me stronger. Like everyone in this room, I can't control who I am. But I can control the zero. Fuck the zero."
One thousand, twenty-five days. Almost trashed.
Fatal mistakes start from a slow fade... Home life is shit. In the middle of closing a practice and swinging into a different full-time gig. Volunteer firefighter, so add on an unusual volume of calls, all bad, in the last two weeks. Teaching one class, taking another, and half a dozen other little things going on, all while being surrounded by dippers, chewers, and smokers. The facts change, but my story doesn't sound that much different than most. In a lot of ways, it doesn't sound that much different than it did almost two years ago, except that two years ago I was chained to the nicbitch. What possessed me to careen perilously close to that abyss when I have steered far away for so long? I don't know. Probably distance from hardcore quitters, a softening of resolve, the lull from the siren's call as I am around all the slaves. Fatal mistakes begin with complacency and smolder, only to compound with the anger from another fight, multiply with frustration and stress, and suddenly burst into flames. It is a slow fade from eff the bitch to romancing her, then it explodes to Holy mother - how'd this tin get in my hand? The old timers are right - constant vigilance is vital, it is a necessity. One dip, one smoke, one chew, and I would be slammed back into the nicotine gulag. Remember reading how nicotine
activates the same dopamine pathways as heroin? One use and it's straight back to the slammer, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Game over. I am never cured. I am always addicted. Vigilance is of utmost importance.
When I started quitting (for we can never finish), I secretly thought that I could bust out the quit, then coast. Psh, I won't need to post every day - these guys are just enjoying the company, but it really isn't necessary when you've been quit for a zillion days. That cocky attitude is dangerous, and I urge you, you cocky SOB, to be on constant guard - you and I are but a moment away from obliteration.
Damocles had his sword,
Achilles had his heel, and we have the NicBitch constantly probing our defenses.
Control the Zero. Fuck nicotine. ODAAT. I'll see 1026 tomorrow, just like I promised.
