last night, i mourned something ik would destroy me. i came closer to a relapse than i have in a while. i was so pissed at myself for even thinking abt it. angry n ashamed tht after all this time, it could still physically hit me tht hard. for hours i went back n forth, weighing 107 days against 1 decision. debating if all tht effort was worth more than a single moment of the night - n i came dangerously close to finding out. the voices were louder than reason, louder than progress, louder than everything i’ve fought so hard for. one of the scariest things abt addiction is how convincing those voices become. but the truth is tht i wasn't only fighting for my sobriety, i was fighting for my life. wht finally got me thro it was remembering exactly tht. its not j abt 107 days, it’s abt survival, its abt the days ahead. ik if i go back there's a v real chance, a more than likely chance, i don't make it thro the night. i may not wake up w another chance to quit. td im exhausted, not tired or feeling the need to sleep, but mentally depleted. i got 3hrs of sleep after protecting over 3 months. i got the privilege of waking up this morning, still sober. here’s to 108 days :.)