Tonight I did something that I have not done since September, 2008. I reached down to the floor to swirl a thin layer of hair off the hard wood. Swirled it together into a loose ball, scrunched it up into my fists, and then flushed it down the toilet.
I've relapsed. Relapse: The act or situation of relapsing; To fall back again; To recur; to worsen, be aggravated.
One hair turned into two. A few days later, two turned into three. Suddenly, tonight, the makeshift bottom fell out again, and there they were, black strands floating to the ground, crisscrossing on the floor below me.
My hair is the longest it has been since 2005. The thickest it has been since 2003. I've spent seven years wishing and willing to get back to this point, and tonight I see that teetering right in front of me.
The secret to recovery isn't about not slipping up. It's about how you react when you slip up. I want to believe that and feel some inner resolve but I'm just too numb. I think that's my biggest enemy, the numbness. I'll go to sleep and let you know how I feel in the morning.
Reykjavik, Iceland II
20 hours ago