Those are valid questions. It can appear as self-absorption, drama, attention getting or just plain strange, especially to those who know or have known me or carry some memory of me. It would seem my life is defined by addiction. This is true on some level as I have, over time, been addicted to pretty much everything I came into contact with, whether it be eye or nose drops, various caffeinated things, sleeping pills, drugs, alcohol, pornography and the addiction of addiction.
So who cares? No one, really. As Gordon Gano wailed: "...we've all been through some shit." People may relate and may find interest or curiosity in it but unless there is hope, unless there is a way out, it's just self-absorption, self-pity or self-congratulations.
I write not to vomit the details of an individual's past. We've all got messy pasts, things we're ashamed of, thing we'd go back and change if we could, regrets, the whole shebang. This isn't that. At least it isn't meant to be.
No, I offer hope. I am a living testimony to finding a way out of the darkness. Nothing weird, nothing magical, nothing pie-in-the-sky, nothing threatening, nothing instant. I simply offer my life. I have become much more comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, in discussing these things. Why? They are no longer a secret, a source of shame, something to hide. I'm not there anymore. Oh, the wolf is always at the door. But I'm seeing it from the outside now, much more objectively than when living in the midst of it.
And in openly discussing it, in bringing into the penetrating brightness and heat of the light, all the illusions and delusions and madness of these things melt away and that innocent childlike love that was kept locked inside for so long is allowed to shine forth.
The journey, in the end, is about love.
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