I have fallen in love with recovery a few times in my life. The first was when I found and joined a Twelve Step program in my late twenties.
I'd had no idea that I could live a life without substances and chaos, and I loved my new friends and life. I slowly drifted away from that program after about six years.
I stayed abstinent but stopped doing the work of recovery, of self-discovery. Later, when my baby sister hit a hard bottom in addiction, I returned to that program to introduce it to her, hoping it would save her life too.
It did, and I found myself enamored with recovery again. I recommitted and experienced another personal growth spurt, which came in handy when I nearly died from cancer.
After cancer, I moved away from recovery again, this time toward workaholism. And after six years of overworking, I hit an intensely hard bottom and chose recovery again.