Journals of a Love Addict
The Blog
Painting the Kitchen (And Other Ways To Avoid Reality)
Did I have food on the table and a roof over my head? Yes. Was I functional? No. But reminding myself daily that I had so much and should be grateful for what I had only contributed to the shame that came with the misery that led to the avoidance and the growing dysfunction.
I wasn't thriving because I was avoiding my reality; or, as my friend Becky Vollmer says, I was miserable because I refused to say it out loud or even acknowledge it to myself. I was miserable because I refused to own my reality.
Mötley Crüe and Peach Schnapps Made Me Do It
You see, I was 15 and grounded for three months because Mom caught me sneaking out of the house one night earlier that summer. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere, as in maybe never-ever-again; but I did anyway. This time I snuck out of the house in broad daylight, arranging for that boyfriend to pick me up at the bottom of a hill on the aforementioned country highway on which we lived. I thought I was so clever; telling Mom that I was Just gonna go say Hi to the neighbors across the road real quick - which I'd never done before because I hardly knew them - and thinking she wasn't onto me. But she was.
Broken Arms and Yo-yos
I can recall the pain of these obsessive thoughts and the continued irrational hope for repairing something so malignant. It's difficult to read today, but at least I now have the benefit of understanding WHY I was stuck in this mental loop…