At the first sign of relief from the obsession, we may get complacent. Once we've learned to live without the most obvious stuff, we may sit back and relax-take it easy.
"It's like the switch just turned off. Sobriety's a snap; there's nothing to it."
We may feel as though the obsession was really something foreign to us, pulled out like a thorn from a finger; and that we can remain unchanged, with the same attitudes and thinking as before.
"I'll just get outta here and go see that movie. I can always close my eyes on the bad scenes."
Like it or not, that's the way many of us seem to do it. By degrees. Instead of running joyously to heaven, we seem to back away from our hell, one step at a time. Thus, often shying away from full slips, some of us think we can allow ourselves partial slips, enjoying the temporary relief they bring. Testing our limits. We have all sorts of strategies for denial.
We may start looking around, just free enough of the compulsion to start noticing what's out there again. And we see that everyone seems to be doing what we can no longer get away with. We feel the pull of it inside.
"How can anything that looks and feels that good be so bad for me?"
A sadness may come over us. We may find it hard to go to sleep. We may get fidgety, feel at a loss, feel empty, not knowing what's wrong. The old inner panic hits again, and we reach for our drug.
That's when we get into action again. The pain-not to mention the fear of falling-jolts us into reality. We go to a meeting, get on the phone, contact someone we trust. We get out of ourselves and get moving.
"If I stay inside my head now, I'm dead!"
Again, we acknowledge that we are powerless over the obsession, only now we may add a little more to our cry of desperation: "Please help me (G-d). Thy will, not mine, be done."
And another breath of relief and comfort comes. Reprieve again. Respite. Even though we may be lulled into complacency again, this is a moment of inner peace, the likes of which we never knew before.
We can be deceived because we may have surrendered "on a full stomach". We'd just finished a destructive bout and sworn off, "Never again!" And we meant it. (Didn't we always?) But the very next time we have the urge and the wave breaks over us again knocking us off our feet, we don't act out our habit, we don't resort to our drug - one day at a time, one hour at a time, sometimes one minute at a time. And the craving passes!
Surrender is a constant thing. Practice. Day by day, hour by hour. Put into practice so often, it becomes habitual. That's how we get the attitude change that lets the grace of God enter to expel the obsession!