When easier stops getting easier

It was getting easier. Then this week it didn't. Same effort, less lift, and a nagging fear that something broke. Nothing broke. Real healing has never moved in a straight line. It climbs, dips, flattens out, then climbs again.

Mountain trails do this on purpose. They switch back and forth, and for whole stretches you're walking away from the summit. It feels like losing ground. You're still gaining height with every step. A dip after better days can be your brain doing unglamorous background work, rebalancing what nicotine bent out of shape.

Right about now, the addiction will wave this dip around as proof that the free life is flat. Put the old days next to it. The cigarette gave you short climbs and long slides, and labeled the whole ride normal. You're comparing an honest dip to a rigged average.

Name one thing that's better than when you started. Maybe it's a morning without the first scramble for a cigarette. Maybe it's money that stayed put. Tell it to God as thanks. He can see the whole trail, top included. Switchbacks still go up.