The pills want me back. They won't leave me alone. I can remember the last time I called my dealer. It was around a year ago. I don't know if I could even still contact him if I tried. He'd have to still be around and willing to take a call from somebody who he probably doesn't remember.
The sad thing is I have been kicking around the idea of doing so. I've been clean long enough that physically there is no addiction, should not even be tolerance. It's all psychological but there is that part deep down that is just screaming to get high. Because it's the only way I know how to feel good and it has been so long since I have felt actual good instead of just temporary relief from the anxiety that normally has me jumping at my own shadow.
I recognize this as my addiction trying to take over, and I don't have to hand over the control to that behavior anymore. I also recognize that it would be so very much easier to give in. I won't take the step of calling a dealer, but I know that if a connection were to drop into my lap there would be no stopping me.
Maybe it's just easier to deal with an addiction, which I have dealt with already for some time, than it is to deal with the underlying problems that I was self medicating in the first place. Is that such a devil's bargain? We all gotta die somehow. I know it's wrong but it doesn't feel wrong. Most of my mistakes generally start off with thoughts like this though. Then there is the fear that this will only escalate until I give in, but that is only partially true. It will escalate and it will feel like more than I can bear, but it will also descend eventually. The problem is having enough patience to resist long enough for the de-escalation to occur.