I have the good fortune of having friends with addictions that they are responsible for. Meaning, they are in various states of recovery. Some of the people I admire most are active in the 12 Step program. Over the years, I’ve developed a tremendous respect for the 12 Steps and have wondered whether our society’s addiction to natural resource consumption and consumerism would be best addressed by collective participation in the program.
April 6, 2011 at 2:30 pm, I declared that I am in recovery. I am in recovery from my addiction to convincing my husband to do something different about his work situation.
It’s an awful addiction, like all addictions, because even if I get a fix, I’m never satisfied. I’m left with craving, wanting and then getting angry that I don’t get what I want: my husband to behave differently. Those of you loving people with addictions, you know what it’s like. They are their lovely selves and then someone mentions crack and they start acting all sneaky, jittery, and you wonder if they’re going to run out and pimp themselves in an abandoned building somewhere to get a fix.
It’s not pretty, what this addiction does to me.
For instance, yesterday morning I’m charmed by how kind and loving my husband is, how handsome, interesting, smart and generous. Then, he mentioned he watched the Colbert Report. It’s a benign reference, right? It’s a perfect opportunity for us to share a laugh about Stephen’s latest antics, right? Wrong.
Television shows?!???!! Did you work on your resume? Did you write about the things you like to do? Did you look at help wanted sites? Did you make any phone calls? Did you clean the bathroom? Did you praise me for working and keeping the house tidy? Did you practice martial arts? Did you do any art? Did you do anything that might convince me that you’re in action to create paid work you enjoy?
People who know me will tell you I’m an open-minded kind of gal, non-judgmental, alternative, loving and kind. Yes, I am, when I’m not besieged by my addiction.
The internal tirades challenging my husband to prove to me that his day was well spent, they’re not coming from Love and they are certainly not coming from an Infinite Radar. This thought stream is sourced in a reptilian part of my brain that is reactive, survivalist, narrow and fearful. This part of my brain is anxious! Will he ever work? Will we have money to get the sealants on our daughter’s 12-year-old teeth? Can I count on him? Can I accept his working this little for the rest of our lives?
It occurred to me, maybe from seeing so many bumper stickers, maybe from my friends in recovery, probably from the profound influence Recovery Programs have had in America, “No, I don’t know how to accept this forever. I can only be with it one day at a time.”
I experienced so much relief from thinking about just one day, that I wondered, "Do I have an addiction?"
I'm trying on the answer yes.
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