I don't actually have three more pages to get through. I busted quite a bit out while I was writing this. And what I busted out on my addiction paper was pretty awesome.
The last few days have been kind of stressful. The issue of great importance, which I occasionally allude to but of which I cannot speak is kicking my ass right now. I've pretty much been thinking about addiction, my pain and little else. When I wrote that post a couple days ago, I really hadn't intended it to go the direction it did. I think it was the result of having a great therapist and being in the midst of a situation that hurts so very much that I simply can't ignore it. That and all the comments admiring my openness.
I realized that I haven't really been nearly as open as people would think. And as I thought about it, I realized that my pain has been a sort of special, secret place that was all my own - so secret I had trouble realizing it exists at all. Yet thinking about it, it's been my retreat for so many years. My pain and the shame I hardly knew existed. And my fear.
I couldn't very well expose any of these. I was almost convinced I didn't have them. But here I am and here they are. My ugliest addictions. The first step to recovering is admitting you have a problem.
My name is DuWayne and I am ugly inside. I'm not ugly because of what I've done or who I've been. I'm ugly inside, because inside is where I've hidden away my shame, my fear - and my pain. I'm ugly inside because I am addicted to my shame, my fear and my pain, holding it tightly, my brutal comfort - my bed of ice and nails, my blanket of broken glass.
But it's ok. I'm not afraid of my addictions. Addiction is an integral part of the human condition. I've gotten a handle on my addictions before - I can get a handle on this. Changing the ugly I can and accepting the ugly left behind - for now.
Really, it's ok. Because no matter how ugly I am inside, I am also beautiful inside. I love so much it hurts sometimes - a lot of the time. I love my neighbor. I love asshole who cut me off on my way to coffee. I love the little boy, who'll never be a little boy, because he's a boy soldier in Congo. And I love you. Yes you, not someone else you think this was meant for - I Love You.
And this is why I embrace the language of addiction. Because it is embracing humanity, mainstream humanity. Because like every other aspect of the human condition, addiction isn't inherently good, bad or indifferent. It's its expression that places it on the spectrum. And more intense than any other addiction of mine, I am addicted to loving. And loving until it hurts and beyond is pain that is greater than any other pleasure possible.
It's easy now, to understand why I'm addicted to my pain.