herlucidlife

I want to hold you to the fire but it contradicts the lesson God has given. Trying to get rid of you before having a sensible conversation, I feel embarrassed because still I’ve no clue what is going on in your mind. What if being reactive leads to worse situations that can’t be undone? Talking to a young man I’ve known for years, going ghost using vacation as an excuse, it angered me to think I could be put away out of sight so easily when if the roles were reversed I’d never act in that way. It scares me to think that maybe I’m not that special and this person is showing me so. Yet unforgiveness makes me just as wrong, if there even is a right or wrong in this situation, but there has to be otherwise pissed wouldn’t have steamed from my face. 

Realizing I’m more emotionally unstable than I thought. I don’t deal with them, rather I just get high and allow the drug to control what the emotion will be. Usually it’s happiness that is perverted and manipulated because I didn’t gain it on my own. Clean for almost three weeks, learning to live with the acceptance of being an addict made me think where did this trait come from. Addiction is a mental disease that surpasses a specific drug, this personality trait has been in my midst since childhood. My first drug of choice was porn, starting at the early age of four through an active imagination, then sneaking glimpses into my senior year of high school, a natural progression. I couldn’t wait until night time, when the house was quiet hearing my mother snore sounds of exhaustion from work. I was free to look at moving pictures that housed perverted things. 

Going through the school day excited to see those same moving pictures over and over again, as I am typing I’m now thinking of how my body turned against me at a young age. Four years old fantasizing about grown people things, I went my whole life feeding the yearning in my body, not denying myself the pleasures of arousal…I’ve always been an addict. Mentally ill, passed down through the bloodline of my grandmother, a hoarder late in life dealing with her own mental illness. Going untreated we all thought a simple fix of cleaning out her home was enough until we had to do it three separate times in my childhood before her death. She needed mental help but we didn’t understand that because we didn’t identify with her illness, nor understood the psychological demise going on in her mind outside of physical disease. 

Looking back she was the same obsessive compulsive person I am today just using a different substance for the job. Constantly thinking of my next fix, how to obtain it, when to obtain it, how to use it, the sensation of using, and repeat. Cycling through this all my life the difference was as a child I had no clue what addiction was or how it was manifested itself in my life. Unfortunately, it’s here and all I can say is…God I’d never thought I’d be an addict.