30 Days Clean

I got my 30 day chip and then relapsed.  I was nervous about telling Handy Hubby.  I couldn’t decide if it was better to admit it immediately, or to wait until he was home from work.  In person, that’s better, right?

Or, was I just stalling.

August, my annual month of failures.  I was doing so good; I was so confident. Then BAM, it’s always the same, from white to black in an instant.  What is this mysterious pull we call addiction?  It’s more powerful than the will of the most powerful around us.  In my circle of fellow addicts not even a one commented they’d noticed I’d been away, so absorbed are these friends in addictions of their own.

I was on the wagon, as they say.  Or is it off the wagon?  I can never remember.  It felt good, really good.  I didn’t want it anymore, I could see through its tempting illusions, the anxiety and regret and guilt had vanished.  I was above it, looking down on my previous weaknesses as a queen might a pauper.  Over-confidence, perhaps.  Maybe I should’ve gone to a meeting.

Is there a Fakebooks Anonymous?  In fact, a whole Escape Social Media extended program for abusers (preferably in Hawaii)?

I see acute and chronic symptoms in folks all around me, yet few of us even try to escape it even knowing it’s being monitored and manipulated by the CIA, the NSA and who knows who in the world else.  The evidence and confessions cannot be ignored, the cognitive dissonance cannot continue to control us all forever.

surveillance

I wanted to find someone, that’s what did it, my relapse.  How sad is that?  I had no other way to find this person except through FB.  This is unhealthy dependence, a solution that creates another problem, quite a few more in fact.

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But I found our sweet pups there!

I have 300+ “friends” there!

How will I know what’s happening with the half dozen actually friends who post there?  Don’t I learn what’s going on in the world there?

Every new person I meet wants to connect on FB; it’s one of the first questions now between strangers who want to stay in touch.  Are you on FB?

Can I say ‘no’?  It seems almost . . . impolite.  Not to mention, a bit suspicious.  Who’s not on FB these days?  Might he be a criminal? Who is she hiding from?

Whether on the wagon or off it, round and round I go.

Maybe I need some FB methadone.  Like, to go to back to my favorite old comfort zones:  Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Charlie’s Angels.

Or, maybe Dr. Phil can help me.

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Author: kenshohomestead

Creatively working toward self-sufficiency on the land.

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