Resisting Relapse

Sometimes, when I’ve had a bad day or I’m tired of fighting, then the temptation to go back is hard to resist and I can feel myself digging my heels in, childlike, and throwing a bit of a mental tantrum, because it’s not fair that I can’t have the thing that will make me feel better and it’s so much easier for everyone else –

And, when this happens, I have to take myself in hand, like you would with a petulant teenager, and explain that life isn’t always fair, and that the things that we want are not always the things that are good for us.

Sometimes, when my defences are down or something’s touched a little sore spot, then I can feel the temptation lurking round the edges and the old voices gaining a little more momentum, because just one missed meal would take the edge of the pain and one small binge wouldn’t hurt, would it –

And then, I have to pull myself up, sharpish, with a stern reminder that just one missed meal was what got me hooked in all those years ago, and just one binge would break the promise that I have made to myself.

Sometimes, the longing is more choking and borne out of a sense of loss for what was – and what can be no more; and, then, I can feel myself sinking under and slipping back, because I am floundering and lost and the pain is too much to bear –

In these times, there is nothing that I can say – or do – or think – to make it any better or any more bearable –

And, so, I take myself away for a little while, with a gentle arm and warm warm words, and I wait for the longing to subside and the despair to ebb away and the feelings to pass –

Because I’m holding onto myself now – and the loss is part of the letting go.

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