I like to act like my choices don’t matter.
That one slip, one bite, one little decision in the shadows is harmless. But in recovery, there are no harmless choices.
Every time I say yes to my self-will, I’m saying no to God’s will.
Every time I fudge the measurements, skip the prayer, dodge the outreach call, or “eyeball it just this once” — I’m not just breaking a food plan. I’m breaking trust. With God. With myself. With the people who depend on me.
And the scariest part?
It never starts with the big crash. It starts with the small choices — the ones nobody sees. The ones that seem harmless in the moment but stack up like bricks on my chest.
That’s when the cut goes deep.
Not one giant stab wound, but a thousand paper cuts of self-will until I’m bleeding out on the floor wondering how I got here.
Addiction is fueled by bad choices disguised as freedom. Recovery is built on surrendered choices disguised as limits.
I don’t always like it, but I know this much:
When I choose God’s will, I live.
When I choose mine, I die — slow or fast, it doesn’t matter.
So today I have a choice.
And I don’t get to make it once. I have to make it all day long, one meal, one call, one prayer at a time.
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Prayer
God, I’m tired of dying by a thousand cuts.
Save me from the little lies I tell myself about “just this once.”
When I face the choice today — food, honesty, surrender, service — pull me toward Your will, not mine.
Amen.