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Addiction…the Attack February 7, 2014

Posted by shelleygblog in Uncategorized.
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I have forgotten how good safety feels. My body rails under attack by its own volition, a brain gripping damaging thoughts like a vice with endless teeth. I think my struggle with addictions and their ghosts will always be lurking down a sinister hallway. My strength to fight the demons always weaker than the demons themselves, sighs a complacent sigh and begins the steps into the spiral, steps that eventually will end in submission on a bathroom floor, a hospital if I am lucky, and, hopefully alone. No one should bear the pain of witness. What does it look like to blow an esophagus on the floor? I can research what scene my kids will encounter, but I cannot prepare for how the trauma will feel.  My mind feels weary, tired of battling manipulation, judgement, distrust.

I run between the goal posts of mind numbing, relentless emptiness, where questions are easily left unanswered, and a life so loud with requests and screamed responses that I cannot hear sense or sanity from any other source. This is the place guilt lurks, doubts flop like landed fish, and risk stretches across the end zone. Then I silence the boom by by simply dreaming of a life more lived, but never actually living through it.  I feel myself retreating: working my way back to a place where letting everyone scratch the surface feels safer. No one hurts me there; a void; nothing, no ups but no downs either. Is it safety or perseverance? 

Life is older. Maybe the risks of youth are folly. Maybe the time has come to sit back and watch, let others play the game. I used to always want to throw on the jersey and run onto the field. Now I must decide, is second string enough? If I cannot play full time, would I rather sit and cheer?
Black. White. I’m not a grey, half way kind of person, and the bench is looking warmer, but, somewhere I know I am running, fully engaged, scoring…healed.