The Relapse Lottery

      Every time I don’t play the lottery I feel like I’ve won.  I know that I am not going to win if I play.  The odds are against me.  I am so non-committal when I play that I just do quick picks.  It would hurt my feelings to put time and effort into personal numbers (birthdays of loved ones, some variation of my name in numbers, the numbers of the streets I’ve lived on, etc.) and still lose.  The money spent on the tickets is normally a loss.  Anything heavily promoted to you is designed to take something from you.  It might be your money, your attention (so they can put more ads in front of you), or your time.  

     It sneaks up on you.  Just when you think you’re ahead of things you blink and the world has somehow passed you by.  In the worst case scenario, it has caught up to you and put you in the situation you were trying to escape, again.

     Maybe you’ve got a little bit comfortable.  You had a feening for that good feeling and forgot about the fuckery that follows.  You tell yourself it’s just a text to say hello.  You tell yourself the whole bottle won’t disappear this time.  You tell yourself the credit card will be paid off as soon as the bill comes in next month.  You tell yourself she really is leaving him.  There are just a few complications that need to be worked through, but it’s really happening … this time.

     You know the slogan is backwards.  “You can’t win if you don’t play” should read, “you’re being played so you can’t win”.

     You can only plant your feet so deep.  You can only drop your shoulders so low.  You can only close your eyes and breathe for so long.  

     Burying the first layer of pain with a second layer of pain does not make the first layer go away or hurt less.  It gives that third and fourth layer fuel and incentive to grow faster and burn hotter.

     It’s so easy to call for a quick ‘pick me up’, grab a nip at the local liquor store, snag a loose cigarette from the smoke shop (because buying a whole pack is almost as expensive as half a tank of gas), or find yourself in a house/apartment/club/car you know you shouldn’t be in thinking about the bed/couch/bathroom/backseat you know you’re going to be in if you don’t leave right now.  But you’re still there.

     This is the lottery.  This is the game.  It’s so easy to say ‘Don’t play’.  It is.  BUT the rush you get is so good right up until the moment you realize you’ve lost.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t some non-committal quick pick.  You were playing with the hearts of loved ones, some variation of your soul, and the promises you’ve made to yourself.  This is deeper than your attention, your money, or your time.

     This is the fuel for that third and fourth layer.  This is the fuckery that follows.  How do you stop?

     You plant your feet deeper.  You drop your shoulders lower.  You close your eyes longer.  You keep breathing.  The deeper you plant your feet, the harder it is to pull them up to run to the house/apartment/club/car/liquor store/smoke shop.  The lower you drop your shoulders the longer it takes to reach out for that ‘pick me up’.  The longer your eyes are closed, the easier it is to envision where you want to be rather than where you are.  The longer you keep breathing and envisioning and dreaming, the more time you have to figure out how to step aside and comfortably let the world pass … for the moment.  

     Take time to enjoy the ride.  Trust me, you’ll get where you need to go.  Just because you didn’t play someone else’s game the way they wanted doesn’t mean you lost.  Sometimes not playing their game is the best way.  Not doing something that makes you feel worse about yourself is the best way to win.

     I’m not saying don’t do hard things.  I’m saying don’t do hard things that have no stakes.  Don’t do things that only hurt you and your loved ones in the end because even if you win that lottery you still lose.

    Feet planted.  Deep breath taken.  Shoulders dropped.  Eyes closed.  Future envisioned.