I was thinking about an old post last night, Nothing You Can Find That Cannot Be Found, and about how lucky I was, that early in recovery, to have been protected from the worst of my temptations. A little space for a little while can be a good thing while you’re getting your sober legs. I was thinking about it because Daryl, who used to sell me drugs, and who has been in prison as much of his adult life as not, walked in to my home group last night. It alarmed me a little, I suppose. He’s not the nicest guy. I was just thinking though that if he or any number of other people had been around at the beginning or if for some reason I found myself with crystal meth sitting in front of me, how hard it would have been to stay sober.
When I came to work this morning I found a loaded glass pipe on the side of the building. I wonder at what point in my recovery the obsession and compulsion left me; at what point I became well enough to be confronted with a supply of crystal meth and to respond by throwing it in the trash.
“There’s nothing you can find that cannot be found,” goes the song. I’ve found crystal meth on the street now. I also found a way to not have to use it.
Recent Comments