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    Day 3 and my eye is on the prize (which, I’m told is just making it through today).

    I’ve been thinking about addiction. I quit smoking a few months ago, and used Chantix. You took a pill in the morning, because you couldn’t trust that person you turned out to be later.

    Turns out I’m 2 people. One, a well meaning teetotaler who exudes confidence, happiness, charm and resourcefulness. Know what I mean? People call me for stuff.

    The other “me” is a monster. Indeed, the monster I’m trying to kill with this experiment and lifestyle change. This guy isn’t confident, he’s brash. He’s not charming, he’s disrespectful and mean. He’s not resourceful: he’ll probably steal something from you.

    For me, addiction recovery is an intentional, premeditated murder of my monster.

    I’m not sure if being powerless works for me. I think feeling a lack of agency in my life is what turns me to the monster.

    Fear works. And I’m scared.

    I’m being active. I’m doing intentional writing. I’m considering my thoughts. I’m getting support everywhere I can. I’m filling my nights with tasks and volunteering in my community. I consider these things sharpening my knives. I’ve been lucky not to see my monster much in the last 3 days, but when he comes…

    I’m going to hurt him. And each time I hurt him, each time my tools work and his impulses fail, my dapper monocle-wearing teetotaler will grow and he’ll shrink.

    It’s funny. I work towards nonviolence and justice in my activism and career, and the only way I can express my recover is through violence.


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