You cannot appreciate the mental space of addiction…unless you are an addict. This is not me romanticizing. This is not okay, this is not an excuse, this is no more or less than the other side of the story.

Addiction comes in many forms but it generally begins as an idea. wouldn’t it feel good to…<perform addiction of moment or choice>. Sometimes I get lucky and the addiction of the moment is healthy. Sometimes it’s completely self-destructive. Sometimes the addiction comes  and goes, but the accompanying personality and triggers never end. When it looks like I’m just staring off into space with a slight scowl, it’s really that the endless flow of internal dialogue has caught my rapt attention. The noise requires constant vigilance to prevent impulsively being acted upon which loops me into second guessing my own motives. It’s easy to trip up in the process of bringing myself back to a safe space, mentally. In the end, this existence is all so very exhausting. Sometimes I need a little help. Other times I need a LOT of help. I often feel it isn’t fair to dump that on one person’s lap. I often feel that I shouldn’t dump my emotional  shit on ANY one’s lap. What person, let alone village is courageous enough to love me? I find it hard enough to love myself.

The high, the stimulation, the distraction, the emotional burst, the cleanse, the joy, the thrill. the reward for feeling too deeply, is the lit up message board that is my nervous system under some chemical assistance, be that natural endorphins or not.

the good news is it’s all in your head. the bad news is, you can never leave.


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