Addiction is a strange phenomenon. A person can know to some extent that they are addicted and still find a way to circumvent the problem and continue the behaviour that they know is dysfunctional and harmful without really looking directly at it. It remains just on the periphery of their direct awareness, even though it can seem quite impossible to ignore, like a fire continuing to spread. This happens until one day, if the person is fortunate, life delivers a severe enough blow to shake them awake and they find themselves staring straight into the flames, unable to look away.
I had this sort of experience about four years ago, when I found myself in a relationship with a violent, abusive, manipulative man who I could not successfully leave behind, in spite of my efforts to do so. I knew he was not going to change without serious help and a lot of time, but was probably never going to seek that help, and I knew too that abuse in a relationship only gets worse with time. I intellectually understood the cycles and patterns of abuse, yet I remained ensnared.
To make matters more wretchedly painful he was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer not long into our relationship. This news was too much for me. My fantasy of love, happiness, togetherness, children, partnership… all of it was completely shattered. He was abusive, and even if he did get help for his own mental-health problems, he was dying.
I had known for a long time at this point about my propensity to become seriously addicted to sex, but this dark set of circumstances revealed to me the extent of my own mental-health issues. If I was with a man like this, something was very wrong within me.
After nearly two years, with the help of my family, and with my own life literally in jeopardy, I, agonizingly, extracted myself from the grip of this man. I stood still for a long while, psychologically bruised and broken, unable to go in any direction, and deeply considered where I had come to in life, entering my 30s. It was a dark time.
I had come to the proverbial bottom. I was either going to remain there, a fragmented person living a half-life, or I was going to face myself and all of the darkness within me. I chose the latter.
I began addiction recovery for sex and love addiction and co-dependency, and have been on that path for nearly two years. This column, which begins with this issue, is about my personal journey in recovering from addiction and all the traumas of my life, and is an exploration of addiction in general, as it appears to affect virtually all of us.
I hope it is in some way helpful.