So today has been both just another day but also a significant one as well. It's the first time since I was 19 that I've gone a whole fortnight without PMO, or even looking at P. That's 14 years - each day of this stretch symbolically represented by a whole year of my life. That's mad. And depressing. And telling.
I've kept myself busy - helping the parents clear out their storage unit, and spending as much time with the family as possible. I got to the 14th day a few weeks ago and slipped badly, and that was definitely on my mind a lot as I went about my business today. Sporadic thoughts of P drifted into my consciousness every now and then and it was a bit of an effort to shift them in all honesty.
I'm definitely finding myself questioning whether it will get easier - do those old compulsions and visceral memories start to lessen in their intensity and frequency? Does it become less of an active effort in one's recovery to stay alert and to not succumb? I really, really hope so.
Even though I haven't exactly been close to a slip, today is a sobering reminder of how deeply wired these habits are. As I approach the start of week 3 in some ways I'm now entering uncharted territory...but in many others ways nothing changes from the last 14 days. If I need to make my sobriety the number one goal of each day then I guess that's just what I'll have to do for the foreseeable, trusting that in time the process becomes a bit more secondary.
I'm mindful I have a lot of work I didn't quite get to over the weekend, and that I've had feelings of inadequacy and relationship fears creep into my headspace this afternoon as well. All of which are stresses and classic triggers for me to seek out that old, supposed comfort blanket and wrap myself in it to numb myself. Well that old habit didn't happen today and regardless of the fact I'm not feeling particularly good in myself right now, I can hold onto the fact that today was another day without P. Tomorrow I start anew.
Day 14