I boasted on how clean I was.
How I never had any addictions.
How can anybody get hooked? On a drug? On alcohol? On anything?
Just don’t try it.
As a woman who could quit drinking when she wanted, quit smoking when she wanted, quit meds when she wanted. I had the control. I showed willpower where others showed their lack of.
I knew my tendencies towards an addictive personality. Passed down the blood line. I knew not to go there with things I couldn’t trust myself controlling. Temptation and a rebellious nature have no business playing together.
But I failed.
I chose a drug…
I chose love.
A drug that has left me clinging to life. Not seeing myself in the mirror. Succumbing mentally and physically to its power. Selling parts of my soul for a taste of its magic. Bargaining my mind & body for its seductive touches. Counting the clock until my next hit. Trading respectability for its shallow promises of forever. Feening for its presence.
Cold sweats…fever…anxiety attacks…phantom aches…nausea…moments when I can barely breathe…times when all I can do is rock myself to sleep…nightmares that jar me awake. Keep me awake. Love I knew, I thought I had. Love that blinded my judgment. Love that was once fun & recreational became something dark & tainted. Love that played tricks with my mind leading me to believe it was good knowing it was the exact opposite. The highs so good…time paused.
But when the highs subsided…the lows told every truth I’d forgotten.
How did I let it get this bad? This desperate? How did I let myself get here?
Tears surface. I suppress them as I write.
The conscious pain lies beneath my core; I dare not acknowledge it. I’m keeping myself clean. I haven’t used in a few days. Not long enough but I have to start somewhere. I think about it every single day. I want it so badly sometimes I would kill for it. I tell myself maybe I can just have a little. I can manage it. I can quit whenever I want. But I can’t. I don’t trust it nor do I trust myself with it anymore.
Never will I judge another addict. I never thought I was until I realized I was.
“She’s imperfect but she tries
She is good but she lies…
She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie
She is gone but she used to be mine.”
I remember watching the movie, The Waitress, years ago, which has now been adapted into a play and the soundtrack written by Sara Bareilles. One of my favorite singer/songwriters. The story is about a waitress with a beautiful heart whom everyone loves except the person she loves, her controlling husband. Her love for him overshadows the love for herself. She is better to others than she is to herself. Like those of us who want to see the good in everyone, we hope that the good in us will somehow make the ones we love value us more. She struggles to find her voice as it has been silenced for so long. Through her gift of baking, she realizes her passion, her dreams, and begins to imagine the life she always knew she wanted but never thought she could have.
Sometimes little parts of us die when we go through things but if we can push through hard enough & long enough, we spark the flame that ignites the fire in us. We may be broken for a while. We may lose ourselves for a while. Hopefully, for just a little while.
Seeing the parallels to my own life, I was immediately drawn to this song. Inducing those raindrops that fall only from the eyes. At first listen, it sounded like a love song of love lost and it is. Listening more, I discovered it was a song of losing oneself. The person she used to be. I misplaced the girl I was a long time ago and I miss her almost daily. I see glimpses of her sometimes and get excited. It gives me hope that one day soon she will return even better than before.
I woke up this morning hungry. Then not hungry. I know food was in the kitchen. If I were to eat breakfast, I know exactly what I’d have. Cinnamon oatmeal, one egg, and a big glass of oj. But I didn’t want that so I just drank some water. I realized, I wasn’t hungry for food.
I’ve hungered for many things. Things I subconsciously blocked out. I really thought I was hungry. So I ate. Alot. All the time. For no reason. My stomach didn’t growl. No hunger headache. Just needed a bite or two. At 2 to 3 hour intervals, I was snacking on something. There were times it curbed my hunger. Most times I was left feeling unsatisfied. Not thrilled. Gluttonous. Still empty.
I hungered for life, full life. For love. For consistency within myself. Within my relationships. Family. Friends. Lovers. Hungry for knowledge. For smarts. Not feeling smart enough. Smart anymore because life’s moments & bad choices had left me feeling stupid. I hungered for happiness. A thing that had long ago left my presence my life and I yearned for it. Pleaded for it. Thirsted for it. Cried for it. Prayed for it. It would peep its head in the doorway, smile, and disappear.
I hungered for normalcy. For a leg up. To make sense of the things happening around me. Hungered for reciprocity. Hungered for freedom. Hungered for joy. Hungered for happiness. For harmony. To numb. To erase those bummer feelings.
I had to check myself and understand what it was all about. I was hungry and now I know why. Trimming the fat has a new literal meaning for me. Trimming the emotional & mental baggage. Learning the difference between emotional hunger…mental hunger…spiritual hunger…and physical hunger. Learning the why, the when to & how to feed each. Perhaps knocking off a few lbs in the process.
To the other emotional eaters in this world: Here’s to enjoying your meal. Your actual meal…In front of you. Not the plate of miscellaneous crap in your brain. Bon Appetit!
Person who runs, enjoys the art of running & the freedom of hitting Earth’s landscape step by step, even if it isn’t everyday. *Insert photo of self.* 🙂
One of the great things about being a runner is what you learn about miles & distance. To someone who doesn’t walk or run, a mile may seem ridiculously long. A runner knows that ain’t nothing!
I’d walk 3 miles before I’d consider driving it or catching a bus or cab. It’s not a challenge. It’s not drudgery. It’s not that far…How you think about it is how it is. Alot like life.
If it seems too far or too hard, do we just not try? Give up? Take the easy way? Or do we take a different route? What seems to be the long way? Both pathways will get you there. One quicker. The latter may take a little longer, but in the end, you pushed yourself a little farther. Discovered new things along the way…about the route you never took. New scenery. New neighborhoods. New people. New ideas you wouldn’t have had time to think about that you now have time to ponder. Maybe even discovered something about yourself. It’s a Jill Scott, proverbial “Take A Long Walk”…That I can do.
Bypassing the train this time. Here goes…