Pines And Pains

There is this thing in my life that is like a drug to me. It gives me a rush and leaves me with a high…every time.

The devil on my shoulder says to me, ‘Walk forth. Prosper in what gives you this overwhelming feeling. It feels good…doesn’t it?’ The angel on my shoulder says nothing. She does not give me any direction. Does not warn me, does not encourage me, just sits in silence, watching me fall and stand back up and fall, time and time again.

There is a part of me that gets satisfaction out of even the smallest dose. A dose of what feels like my own personal brand of kryptonite can last me for weeks. It can leave me feeling reconnected, for a good while. It’s not just a reconnection to the drug; it makes me feel reconnected to the pumping of my own heart. It makes me feel reconnected to life. It makes my eyes see things in a different light. It makes me feel like I feel good in my skin again. I feel home again.

And after awhile, that lingering feeling starts to fade. I begin to realize it’s not coming back. And I’m alone again. And once again, a piece of myself falls away—a piece that feels, in the moment, gone forever. I start to think…if I continue this pattern, I will lose all of myself in due time. But then I think, if I have to feel this crash after the greatest high I have ever felt from this force, this overwhelming thing in my life, I would do it all over again. I would take the smallest taste to feel that good, even if it left me feeling this low.

I stop to reread what I have written so far about my addiction and I see how unhealthy this behavior is. Perhaps that’s why I continually try and walk away from it. I don’t need to read it written down, or hear it from someone else, or listen to the opinions of others to truly see what I am doing to myself. I know. I hurt myself repeatedly. And the worse part is, even the villain in this twisted story gets hurt over and over. Villains, addictions, unhealthy things are supposed to be heartless. Are supposed to be the “bad guys” in the story. They’re not supposed to feel or be hurt by the victim who keeps going back for more.

But that’s not the addiction I struggle with. In this twisted love story of victim and villain, they are one in the same. The victim is also the villain, and the villain is also the victim. Each side pines and pains over the other.

I ask myself, what should I do? What is the right thing to do? Sometimes I think I’m supposed to live a simpler life than this—without the drug. I could be happier with a simpler life. That’s probably the right thing. Let this addiction fall away. If maybe I just stop going back for a dose, eventually I will forget what it tastes like, and I’ll feel okay. Maybe I wont feel that high again, but I’ll feel good enough. I can learn to be okay without it.

When I look back at the days when this addiction wasn’t an addiction, but an everyday part of my life, I recall how similar the pattern looked then to how it looks now. It wasn’t simple then either—it was pretty messy. It was utterly imperfect. It was a bit of a rollercoaster with ups and downs, as it is now. But the ups and downs came and went much faster. It never left me feeling alone then. It never took away a piece of me after a fall. It never left me feeling so low, for so long, before it scooped me up and showed me how much I’m worth. How much I matter. How much I mean in the world, if only to even one person. The ups and downs were a part of having this overwhelming thing in my life—the ups and downs weren’t a lifestyle, as they have become now…

There is only one way to have this overwhelming force in my life. It’s to be okay with feeling like and being the victim and the villain from time to time. It’s coming to terms with the messy, imperfectness of it. It’s realizing that nothing that makes me feel higher than anything I’ve ever felt, will keep me consistently high. It’s being okay with the fact that highs can dip to lows and even out and go back up again.

I’m left lingering with a taste, all over again…

I don’t know what I’m doing.