Free Range

I have always pondered why my addiction or my alcoholism took a sharp turn for the worst when I tried to control it through my own will power.

When others close to me finally said I should think about stopping, or that they would leave me if I didn't, while also threatening to take really cool stuff n' things away with them when they did. I would just drink or use more at their perceived threats... even when that really cool thing was my own flesh & blood. I really don't deal well with conditional or tough love. I believe it has something to do with one or more of my trauma wounds, fear of abandonment, or just plain not being good enough. I break down at that point and see no way out. I'm sensitive, I have paper thin feelings, & if they are damaged or torn, my pain will spill out all over the surrounding environment like the Exxon Valdez.

At the time I could of never realized the scope of these tragic, knee-jerk reactions. Or that I would be the one dealing with the punishment of forging my own weapon. Just like an oil spill the aftermath of how deep the damages run are never really known until years & decades later.

The epiphany I just had was that I always believed I was a free range type of addict. I thought I was like the breeze. Sailing the seven seas, out in the great wide open, mostly minding my own business, not negatively affecting others. After all, I drank n' drugged to calm the storm raging inside of me, not to purposely meaning to hurt anyone else in my proximity.

Some how in my twisted thought process, I rationalized that fitting into a certain mold or box would save me from getting worse or prevent me from hitting absolute rock bottom. I just could not wiggle or writhe my way into one that fit me right... but I jumped right in anyhow.

 Whether it was a change in geographical location in the mountains, desert, or beach. Pursuing a new & exciting dating option. Maybe thinking it was time to finally settle down into something more serious, or perhaps trying no relationship at all would suit me better. Not till I realized no matter where I found myself, there I was. Up against the wall, backed into a corner, always trying to dig my way out... I had barbed wire sickness. I was claustrophobic, I was trapped,  I was NOT fucking free anymore. That's when my addict mind turned on me & everyone else it told me it never would..

Addiction always seems to bite the hand that feeds..

Addiction is the only prison where the locks are on the inside.