Step One is horrifying.
Imaging a world littered with trap doors. The trap doors are invisible. When you step on one, you fall through. Nothing can stop the fall. This is the mental obsession in operation. Once you fall, there is no knowing how far you will fall. Two feet. Ten thousand feet. Infinity. This is the physical craving in operation. There is no knowing whether there will be a means to clamber back out.
The only solution is to be permanently borne aloft by angels, so that the trap doors are never activated.
How do you keep yourself borne aloft by angels? Remove I, me, my, myself, mine from the discourse and serve God. Live not in your own home but in servants' quarters. There are no careers: there are only the (invariably pleasant) tasks of the day. But the service is in a palace. You live in a palace. But you do not own it. There are no exceptions and there are no days off.