I have never had an addictive personality. My drinking habits in the last year of High School and the first two years of College should have made me an alcoholic. They did not and by the time I turned 21, my days of over drinking were mostly over. Prior to that, I abused caffeine in a bad way. I once went night surfing at the Cocoa Beach Pier. Prior to hitting the water, I took two Vivarin pills and washed them down with a 44 oz Mountain Dew. I fell asleep on the surf board 20 minutes later waiting for a wave. That effectively ended my use of caffeine or any stimulants.
I have never done any illicit drugs and I really hate taking pain medicine, so I have been safe there.
But I did develop one addiction. It happened later in my life. This particular addiction slowly crept in. It was there at the edges for a while, then became more of a mainstay. Periodically, it would not be available and I was fine with that. Each time it was available, I partook. The partaking became more frequent and I began to miss it when it was unavailable. Then there was a streak of about nine months where it was just impossible to have. I knew where it was, but I had no access. My temptation grew to the bursting point, but I managed my withdraw symptoms. The temptation never went away, but I managed to dull the ache with other things and keeping busy.
Then one day out of the blue, I got a notice that it might be available. My hope soared, then my brain kicked in and I was confused and angry. My emotions swirled as I was confused and the information was sketchy. Over the next week, the information seemed reliable if abstract. Finally, I had enough torture and I demanded the source call me.
She did. My addiction was indeed on the other end of the phone. I was so enraptured just by the sound of her voice, I could not process her words. My stumbling brain caught up and I processed what she was saying. Oh crap.
You already know much of that conversation.
Life was difficult over the next few months. We had teething issues. We had trust issues. We had medical issues. We had money issues. But, with some help, lots of work and a little luck, we managed to get on top of everything.
About two months in, she called me and I answered, “how is my addiction doing?”
She laughed and scolded me, but it made us both smile. A few more times over the next few weeks I made some mention of her being my addiction. She grew uncomfortable with the phrase and confronted me about it, saying that addiction had bad connotations.
My simple response was, I crave to have you when you are not with me. I am so much happier when I have you. I dream about you when I sleep. I think about you when we are apart. I crave to touch you when we are together. Your simple presence calms me. Call it what you want, but it sounds a lot like addiction to me. Not all addictions are bad, I don’t know if being addicted to you is bad. I do know that realizing I was addicted to you when you were gone was horrible, so I don’t ever want you to leave again.
She smiled and said, “your stuck. I’m with you for life and longer.” she paused for a moment of introspection, then said, “If that is what you define as addiction, then I am addicted too.”
That was one of my first truly great smiles. That smile lasted the entire rest of the day. I kissed her so much after that, she asked, “what is wrong with you? You are never this affectionate…without us ending up horizontal.”
I just smiled and kissed her again. I then smacked her on the ass and said, “its just me being happy that we are co-addicted.”
She smacked me back and said, “I’m gonna call it LOVE, idiot man and lets get horizontal.”
In the time since, I have learned that we were both right. A great melded love is an addiction. Not addiction in the bad form of the word, but it is a thing that grows within you. It is something that tightens its grasp as time, work and effort are applied. This is a good thing and as I am learning 8 months after her death. I am still completely and hopelessly in love and addicted.