Mentally relapsing

So last week basically sucked. I was swimming around in my head in my chaos and turmoil and I wanted to be there. That was the sick part to me, how comfortable I was there and how much I was enjoying being there. Luckily, although I don't think luck had anything to do with it, I didn't make any moves to actually use. I wanted to. BADLY. How can I want something so badly that I know will cause such horrific reactions? The high might be fun, and I use might loosely, but everything else that comes along with being high like the coming down part and the remorse and the kicking myself in the butt and the humiliation of relapsing and then the giving up of almost 3 years of sobriety, well, none of that sounds fun in the least. But I was with Nic and I wanted to be with him, even if it was just a book. I think I've mentioned before that I have a tendency to fall in love with characters in the books I read and Nic was no exception. A normie might read his book and be disgusted but what disgust them I might barely notice. Seen it all before. Nothing new in the drug world. What I see is how tortured and tormented Nic is and how, ultimately, he is compassionate and good inside. He's artsy and educated and well read and probably holds incedible conversations that I would know nothing about. I've never even heard of half the bands he talks about or read the books he has read. So there in lies yet another weakness or character defect. I like them damaged. I relate to the damage. My sponsor says that is codependency. That isn't really what I thought codependency was.
And there was 13th step boy. I was letting him screw with my head big time. I was throwing all that self confidence and independence out the window and hoping that this person would completely change who I knew him to be and suddenly be madly in love with me. Want to hold me. Kiss me. Make love to me. Comfort me. And then he just disappeared for the weekend basically. Heard nothing from him and here I sat feeling discarded once again. Now how did THAT happen? So here I was ready to give it up and nothing. I hear nothing. Finally Saturday night what I do hear is some logic and common sense and mostly God telling me that this is NOT right. These thoughts are not going to do me any good. Not going to get me what I want. That doing drugs and sleeping with him, well, I'm just going to feel a LOT worse when it is over. So I let it go. Actually I begged. I begged God to remove this obsession. Obsession to use. Obsession to find comfort and acceptance in the wrong arms.
So Sunday I woke up feeling better. Obsession gone. Self confidence still in tact. Sobriety still in tact. Lessons still revealing themselves. One gargantuous reminder that my disease is baffling and powerful.