The room choruses, "Hi Lisa!"
"Well, it all started innocently enough. We thought it would be great having StatCounter on our blog and website to see how many hits we were getting. But then we went on submission and soon I started showing signs of obsession."
I twist my hair and stare up at the ceiling, completely unable to make eye contact with the other members of the support group.
"I started checking the hits on our sites every five minutes, around the clock. My finger was constantly hovering over the F9 key, praying for a hit from NYC. That high of seeing an editor on your site, well there's nothing like it."
I start twitching a little bit just thinking about the thought of an editor pouring over our blog because they're thinking of making an offer on our book. Oh god, it's just so good. I take a deep breath, trying to find the strength to continue.
"So, a couple weeks ago you might remember me saying that I had my husband change the password on the account, so I could stop checking, and it wasn't a lie. He did change the password, but after 24 hours or so, I couldn't stand being in the dark. I was just sure that our logs would be riddled with hits from NYC, so I started furiously typing in every password that my husband might potentially use. Kid's birthdays, anniverseries, I tried everything and eventually got locked out of my account. Left with only one option I had StatCounter e-mail me the password and you know what? That tricky bastard never changed the password in the first place."
Tears are coursing down my cheeks now and the air in the room is thick with tension and sympathy.
"Now that I had the password again, I was back to checking every five minutes. I lied to Laura, pretending that I wasn't back on the Stats. But eventually she figured it out. She knew the bags under my eyes could only mean one thing and when she tried the password, she found it unchanged. I begged her not to tell anyone, to let me continue checking, but she soon grew tired of my endless bitching about little to no activity on our site. She couldn't take the depression over the lack of NYC hits, so she changed the password and the e-mail address on our account."
My head is bowed in shame, I can't believe that I'm saying these words out loud. Revealing the true depths of my addiction for all the blogsphere to see.
"It's been 24 hours since my last hit, and I'm feeling good. I'm not going to lie, I've tried to crack the password multiple times, but that bitch must have used something completely obscure because her anniversary and Lydia's birthday and name don't work. So, I'm clean. For now. And I'm taking it one day at a time."
I give the room my best Meredith Baxter Lifetime Original Movie smile.
The room bursts into applause and Laura walks up to give me a hug and a small pin commemorating my first 24 hours without the Stats.
It's the first day of the rest of my life.
I'm back on carbs.