I’ve been thinking about the phenomenon of relapses, of slips, among addicts. It’s a very rare addict who doesn’t have a slip (or seven) on the road to recovery. I was lucky enough that my “addiction” was to a behavior, and with an “M.O.,” that didn’t lend itself to catastrophic consequences if I slipped.
If/when I slipped, I was out a few bucks, an hour or two, and had a difficult conversation to have with my wife.
But others – those “addicted,” say, to people, or to drugs on which one can overdose, or which lead to impairment of judgment in a radical, life-threatening way – others don’t have the luxury of “slips.” A slip, if you’re a heroin addict, or an alcoholic, or if your “addiction” is to an abusive or violent person, can mean death.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and just notching yet another way in which I’m lucky in my belt.