We’ve seen this happen periodically over the past 22 years. It’s nothing new. But we still wonder.
Here's a man, living at the epicenter of a treatment program. Surrounded by recovery, 24 hours a day.
He literally lives, breathes, sleeps, is immersed in a recovery atmosphere. Then he somehow separates himself enough to slip a needle in his arm.
When confronted, he tries getting over on the drug test. Tries to deceive the screener. Then eventually, when confronted with his deception, he says someone offered him heroin. Offered. Didn't hold a gun to his head. Didn't force him. Just “offered.” Next thing, he has a needle in his arm.
Was it that easy, that simple? Maybe. And then he's packing his stuff and perhaps returning to the drug world. Who knows?
So what happened? How did he let his guard down? How did the enemy slip in to ambush him?
We’ll never know for sure. Because we’re not in his head.
Some said they were afraid for him because he’d quit going to meetings. Started isolating. Becoming distant and uninvolved.
His relapse illustrates the danger of thinking our enemy sleeps. Of thinking we have it all altogether. Of letting our ego run rampant and neglecting our recovery.
The 12-step literature sums it up succinctly: “What we really have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition."
Thank God for the reprieve.
