One of the ways that an abuser or other addict perpetuates their cycle is the fool's quest for the point of no return. (Sing it, Steve Walsh, though Kansas used a play on words.) "Where was it that I went wrong?" we ask, never learning (because, unlike WOPR, we can't set the number of players to 0) that the only winning move is to not play.
So the (substance- or behaviorally) addicted person convinces himself that the first step is harmless. We deprive ourselves of the gift of getting beyond the whole environment/dynamic because of the harmless part of it we don't want to give up. Or we don't recognize the earliest indicators, the first red flags (the tension at the base of my skull, the emotional triggers, the key aspects of our personality, the (even unavoidable) environmental factors) that form a key part of the cycle. And we keep playing the game and losing, over and over. Learning and breaking this pattern is what lets me put the word "recovered" in front of abuser, but the motivation for that was so strong: I never wanted to hurt anyone else like that ever again. I didn't hate my own remaining impurity, though, enough to address it with the same intensity, or maybe clarity.
Maybe I'm getting free from all of that now, but it's too early to be certain. In fact, it could well be that certainty is the enemy of freedom. If a benevolent king has brought me victory from my oppressor, I probably shouldn't be seeking to be out from under his influence! I've long been cognizant of a too-common approach to Christianity. It's objective is not to improve us to some point at which we no longer need a Savior because we have "arrived" at a sufficient level of wholeness. Rather, we need to recognize that we are only whole in relationship with Him, and our weakness then becomes a reminder to always stay close to Him.
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