6 Months have passed and I've managed to avoid the excesses to which I'm predisposed. A semblance of normalcy was being achieved in my sensitive (and often misfiring!) brain. I wouldn't describe the last couple of months as 'happy', but I had definitely obtained a level of tranquility (evenness?) of late.
Last night I fell off of the wagon.
I don't know why... I have wracked my brains looking for the reason... The only answer that I can come up with is that I have a devil sitting on my shoulder. He whispers in my ear; things like: "go on, you can take one. You deserve it!" The problem with me, and the problem that I have always had, is that 'one' is never enough. So I'm home now and feeling like a prune... Well, maybe not a prune as a prune holds far more juice than I feel I can currently lay claim to - perhaps, rather, a dried date more adequately describes the way I feel.
Devils aside - I wonder at the real roots of my self destructive tendency. Am I bored? Unfulfilled? Unhappy? Yes, however, taking drugs and escaping off into Neverland for a night does nothing to reduce those three unfortunate states of being, in the long term. When do I take the lesson that my body and mind so mercilessly try to teach me every time I have one of these little relapses? When something really bad happens? I hope not.
And so it is back to the path of sobriety for me - hopefully this has been a one off; a glitch; an aberration on my intended pathway towards happier days.