I've been thinking about addiction a lot lately. Although people would probably scoff at the idea that I'm an addict because they'd likely disagree that this type of addiction even exists, accusing me of being hyperbolic and overdramatic instead of really being an addict, I am absolutely, positively addicted to boys* (I even have an essay about it that if I'm ever not too lazy to edit and send out, you may just get to read). I may not look like an addict, but it just so happens that, you know how there are functional alcoholics? I'm functionally addicted to boys.
*For the purpose of this blog and pretty much everything else I ever write in my life, when I use the word boys, I'm talking about guys pretty much between somewhere in the 20s and maybe 40 (although that's pushing it). I mean, sure, there are some guys in that age range who I would categorize as men instead of boys, but I wouldn't want anything to do with them. Gross.
Just for fun, let's look at the American Society of Addiction Medicine's definition of addiction: Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one's behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response. Like other chronic diseases, addiction often involves cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive and can result in disability or premature death.
Except the "can result in disability or premature death" part (unless we're considering things my ex-Glenn could have done to me in the past), this definition fits me to a T. I won't go into details (at least not here; if it's details you want, I totally wrote a book), but I promise you that over the years (about 31 of them) I one hundred percent have been unable to abstain in bad boy-related behavior, I have had absolutely no self-control where boys are concerned, I have craved boys--holy shitballs have I craved boys--and my behavior has caused significant problems in my interpersonal relationships. To put it in simple terms, where boys are concerned, I have exhibited behavior that is batshit fucking insane.
Like addicts of more commonly accepted this-is-an-addiction substances such as, for example, a drug addict who could maybe have a glass of wine without descending into a downward spiral but couldn't be anywhere near a line of cocaine, I have weaknesses, too, only in my case the different substances are specific people instead of specific drugs. Also like (some) other addicts, I go on the wagon and off, in and out of recovery, but I'll never really be cured. And like those in recovery, I truly have to take one day at a time.
But I have to tell you, it's been hard, especially as of late. The dreams have come back, to the point that when my alarm goes off in the morning I hit snooze, which I never do, because I don't want the person in my dreams to go away. Every single day, I have to talk myself out of texting or calling or snapping certain boys because just like an alcoholic on a bender, I know--oh my God, do I know--that the effect of doing any of these things will be the opposite of good. I'm talking self-loathing, I'm talking humiliation, I'm talking setting myself back I don't even know how long.
I know all of these things logically, of course, but it's getting harder to abstain nevertheless. That's the addiction at work.
But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard.
*For the purpose of this blog and pretty much everything else I ever write in my life, when I use the word boys, I'm talking about guys pretty much between somewhere in the 20s and maybe 40 (although that's pushing it). I mean, sure, there are some guys in that age range who I would categorize as men instead of boys, but I wouldn't want anything to do with them. Gross.
Just for fun, let's look at the American Society of Addiction Medicine's definition of addiction: Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one's behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response. Like other chronic diseases, addiction often involves cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive and can result in disability or premature death.
Except the "can result in disability or premature death" part (unless we're considering things my ex-Glenn could have done to me in the past), this definition fits me to a T. I won't go into details (at least not here; if it's details you want, I totally wrote a book), but I promise you that over the years (about 31 of them) I one hundred percent have been unable to abstain in bad boy-related behavior, I have had absolutely no self-control where boys are concerned, I have craved boys--holy shitballs have I craved boys--and my behavior has caused significant problems in my interpersonal relationships. To put it in simple terms, where boys are concerned, I have exhibited behavior that is batshit fucking insane.
Like addicts of more commonly accepted this-is-an-addiction substances such as, for example, a drug addict who could maybe have a glass of wine without descending into a downward spiral but couldn't be anywhere near a line of cocaine, I have weaknesses, too, only in my case the different substances are specific people instead of specific drugs. Also like (some) other addicts, I go on the wagon and off, in and out of recovery, but I'll never really be cured. And like those in recovery, I truly have to take one day at a time.
But I have to tell you, it's been hard, especially as of late. The dreams have come back, to the point that when my alarm goes off in the morning I hit snooze, which I never do, because I don't want the person in my dreams to go away. Every single day, I have to talk myself out of texting or calling or snapping certain boys because just like an alcoholic on a bender, I know--oh my God, do I know--that the effect of doing any of these things will be the opposite of good. I'm talking self-loathing, I'm talking humiliation, I'm talking setting myself back I don't even know how long.
I know all of these things logically, of course, but it's getting harder to abstain nevertheless. That's the addiction at work.
But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard.
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