yesterday i had an opportunity to use heroin.  i ran into someone i used to get dope from in a parking lot, he offered me a bag for free, and i took it on impulse.  i brought it home and stared at it, feeling that strangely familiar anticipation.  i looked at the vein in my hand, swelling and inviting. 

i knew that if i used, no one would know.  i could make up some excuse and skip my friday meeting and never mention it to anyone.  they might suspect something was wrong, but nobody would be able to prove it, and nobody would confront me about it either. 

so i sat there and thought about what i was about to do.  i called my sponsor and left her a message saying i wouldn't be able to make it to the meeting.  then i thought some more.  normally i wouldn't think, i'd just spike a vein, but this time i felt this sick knot in my stomach.  i felt short of breath.  i felt guilty.  even though i knew it would feel good, it would relax me, and there wouldn't be any catastrophic consequences, so why did i feel so shitty?  why couldn't i just shoot up, get high and enjoy myself?  i had been clean for a while, so hadn't i earned it?  all these thoughts raced through my head.  my palms sweated, my hands shook, and my heart sank.  i started thinking of my most recent relapse, coming home to my boyfriend overdosed and out of his mind, the fear, the crying, the confusion, and the fact that it had all started with one of us or both of us saying "it's ok, just this one time." 

well "this one time" had turned into countless other times until it bacame a habit once again, one that nearly killed him, and could have killed me.  then i thought about my recovery, my sponsor, and all the wonderful things i'd felt since my bf and i got clean.  we were talking again, learning to love each other again, learning to love ourselves again.  it had been wonderful.  not for us being together and learning love again.  that was not it.  it had been wonderful for ME.

this may just be one more hit, but when would it end?

i decided it had to end right then and there.  that sick guilty feeling would only get worse if i used, so i did something i've NEVER done before.  i balled that bag up in my fist, walked to the bathroom, and flushed it down the toilet.  i watched it swirl down the drain, and for a moment i thought maybe i could fish it out and still use it, but i didn't.  i let it go.  i clenched my fists and took a deep breath and prayed.

never before had i chosen to throw away instant gratification.  i should count myself lucky that it wasn't my drug of choice.  had it been crack, or ecstacy, or even weed, i don't know that i could have said no.  if i had not acted on impulse, but instead gone out of my way to cop dope, then i probably would have used it.  but as it was, i was confronted with a temptation, and i chose against it, even though it was in my hand and i had initially said yes.  i chose to stay clean, to go to a meeting, and to share about it instead.

so i guess i've learned that i have a choice, and even if i have to sit on my hands and pray to choose wisely, it's still more than i've ever had before.  my death weighs a fraction of a gram, but it's bigger than me, and i can't defeat it alone.  i hope to never be in that situation again.  but as it is, i'm proud of myself. 

but i owe it all to that sick knot in my stomach.  that right there was enough to make me stop and think twice.  i've decided that it was more than sick anticipation.  it was my higher power speaking to me.  it had to have been, because once i'd flushed that bag down the toilet, that sickness went away, leaving behind a warm sense of purpose that lasts a lot longer than any hit of dope.

i still feel it, too. 

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