Relapse doesn’t always come crashing in with sirens blaring.
It tiptoes.
Barefoot.
Flashlight in hand.
Creeping through my kitchen like a thief casing the joint.
I call it…
Just checking.
Just straightening.
Just looking.
Bullshit. That’s recon.
That’s my disease scoping the shelves, mapping the weak spots. By the time I’m pulling open cabinets, I’m not curious — I’m compromised. The bite? That’s just the mission complete. The fall already happened. So today, I cut it off at the source.
I stay out of the kitchen when it ain’t mealtime.
I pick up the damn phone.
I hit my knees.
Because if I don’t shut down the recon, the ambush is guaranteed.
At the End of the Day…
Still keeping out of the pantry.
Still cutting off the recon.
Still praying before I peek.
Still grateful I didn’t get ambushed.
Today’s Work
Notice where the recon shows up for you.
Is it the pantry?
The fridge?
The drive-thru on your way home?
Name it out loud — and shut it down before it turns into an ambush.
God,
Keep me out of the pantry when I don’t belong there.
You know the lies I tell myself — “just looking, just checking.”
Kill those lies before they kill me. Trip me up before I crack a cabinet. Throw steel in my spine and a phone in my hand before I fall for the whisper.
Save me from the sneak attack, so You don’t have to drag me out of the wreckage.
Amen.