myAddiction

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

~Harlon coben

The quote above is a real thing girls. It’s a fucking real thing. So is addiction to another person. And I ain’t lying ‘bout that. Can I get an amen?

Hello.

My name is Trish.

And I’m a recovering addict.

Yesterday, I decided to let my tattoo-gun-wielding daughter lay a little ink in my skin to create a symbolic, deliberate, visual reminder of my struggle with addiction. My addiction is about 5’6 and has hazel eyes. She’s moody, insecure, angry, selfish, manipulative, a coward, and knows how to cut you down like nobody’s business. But she’s also the sweetest poison to my heart.

My addiction is sexual. I don’t think I fully understood that until recently. She’s the perfect lover for me and knows exactly what I want without me ever having to say a word. If you’ve ever experienced that kind of sexual, energetic connection you know exactly what I mean.

It’s a fucking real thing.

Truly knowing and genuinely recognizing your addiction is half the battle, so yay me! But, I’m learning that as a recovering addict, I can only be successful if I put the proper tools in place to manage my addiction. I’m not sure the cravings will ever fully go away. She may always be the one that haunts my dreams. She may always be my muse. And there may always be a lingering desire for her. But, with a whole lot of willpower, determination, support, love, and honesty, I’m making it to other side. And my sexual need of her is … dissipating. I may not be as emotionally invested but the struggle is real.

I came out for her. She was my first. And of course, I fell crazy in love. But it wasn’t returned. Not really. What was returned was an exploitative form of sexual manipulation that I had never been exposed to. And I fell victim to it hook, line and sinker. She was good. Really good. Years of practice made her a pro. I used to be so insecure about the women in her past. Thinking they all knew how to please her and make her happy. But, truthfully, none of them did. She is insatiable. Never satisfied. I’m not sure anyone can make her happy. And honestly, sex was the only thing she was good at. I don’t say this to be mean. It’s the truth. Love scares her. She doesn’t know how to actually be in a relationship and she doesn’t want to do the work. It took me 13 long years to finally accept that as a truth. It’s also taken me as long to realize that as much as I loved the high of her touch, she’s a drug that is absolutely, 100%, no good for me.

Kinda fucked up that even now it still hurts a little to write that out loud.

But, even so, emotionally, I still do slip. My addiction is like any other. And my heart is just as human and vulnerable as the next person. And it’s fucking hell when I slip back. It takes everything I have to claw my way out of the rabbit hole. So, I decided I needed something to remind me that I got this. That I can do this. That I am better than and deserve more than to be caught up in a woman who threw me away, not once but twice, without even batting an eye. So I decided to get a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, but one that would literally remind me of the moment she threw me away. For the very last time.

I needed a reminder of how unbelievably worthless and not enough she made me feel in that unforgettable moment. Of how much it hurt. Of how much it upset me. And then, of how much gratitude set in once I realized I had been emotionally set free. Because in that moment I finally realized I was worth so much more than how she made me feel.

I also fully realized that she truly didn’t love me.

I knew right then that I needed a visual reminder of what not to do when I feel the pull of my addiction. A visual touchstone for those weaker moments when…

• it feels like nothing and no one will ever make me feel as alive as when she made love to me
• the wine seeps in and loosens the laces that bind my heart and my resolve to keep my emotions in check.
• the mood is flooded by waves of wanting, and desire, and the memories are alive with an electric pulse.
• the sadness burrows so deep that even knowing the wrongness of her does not negate the rightness of the love I felt for her.
• the sadness burrows so deep that even knowing the wrongness of her does not negate the rightness of the love I felt for her.
• the overwhelming mountain of regret creates valleys of what-ifs that try to trick me into believing that things could be different.
• it takes every distraction imaginable just to stop me from shooting her into my veins by picking up the phone or sending a text. Knowing I’ll be crushed by the reality of the rejection if I give in.
• those cravings pull at me so strongly, it’s hard to move out of the moments cuz all I want to do is stay there. To be loosened and flooded and pulsing and sad. Because that’s what keeps her near. Even tho I know it’s all in my mind.
• I fool myself into thinking that she really does love me.

Addiction is addiction no matter its form. Drugs, alcohol, junk food or whatever your thing is. And an addiction to a person is real. I admit to this weakness I do not enjoy and know is not good for me. I understand the power of the addiction that keeps me tethered. And like an addict, I fight the pull moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day, mentally, physically and emotionally. I know no good can from slipping into that space of temporary euphoria. It is not real. It never was. I am constantly amazed at what we can think ourselves in and out of believing. But, I know better now. I know a truth I never knew before. And while I am grateful for my freedom, as with any addiction, relapses tend to occur. Until they don’t. And how successful we are depends on the tools in our arsenal. For me, it’s the remembrance of these four things:

She threw me away… more than once.

She made a conscious choice every time.

I never had a say in the matter.

I am worthy of being loved and I deserve so much better.

So…I went and got a tat! The baby turtle from that life-altering post written after the shock of her throwing me away, yet again, when I’d done nothing wrong and nothing to deserve it, is now my forever reminder.

A reminder, for me, that there is nothing for me to go back to. Absolutely nothing. And, that baby turtle making its way to freedom, is also a reminder that there’s a big wide world out there with so much more to offer. No one knows the truth behind my tattoo. It is just for me.

Sometimes, the beginning or the ending of a thing can look nothing like what you imagined. The anticipation, the joy, the excitement, and the love… the dread, the worry, the what-ifs, and the fear … a dash of desperation and a mountain of courage … get mixed into a crazy, emotional cocktail of anxiety that either propels you forward or holds you back. But in the end, when a decision is made from the seat of your heart, a warm blanket of freedom settles on your soul and wraps your mind with the knowledge that you’ve made the right choice. That you’ve done the right thing. That some things are meant for you. And some things are not. And suddenly, you are free.

I am there.

It’s finally time for me to go.

And I am so very very grateful to you.

For showing me how.

Yes. Addiction is real.

But so is emancipation.

I got this!