addiction

I am a work in progress.

So it persists, for many of us, hunger channeled into some internal circuitry of longing, routed this way and that, emerging in a thousand different forms. The diet form, the romance form, the addiction form, the overriding hunger for this purchase or that job, this relationship or that one. Hunger may be insatiable by nature, it may be fathomless, but our will to fill it, our often blind tenacity in the face of it, can be extraordinary.

Imagine this:Ice is coming to YOUR house.Can you HEAR it knocking?Are you ready?What will YOU do?

I became addicted to the guilt. The strange thrill of doing something so morbid, so off-color, and so completely wrong.

I wanted to meet the monster. Why go down if you can go up?

Life was radical right after I met the monster.Later, life became harder, complicated.Ultimately, a living hell, like swimming against a riptide,Walking the wrong direction in the fast lane of the freeway, Waking from sweetest dreams to find yourself in the middle of a nightmare.

An imagined pleasure is never really the pleasure, but an imagined pain, in a very real sense, is the pain, because so much of pain is the consciousness of it. It makes itself objective. Whereas to think about pleasure is to step outside of it; to think about a presently felt pain is to step inside it. And in a very real sense, we__e already got them in Hell.

When you push someone's head under water for 5 minutes, they will drown. It doesn't matter if the person is a sinner or a saint. It's just a natural process. If their head is under water, the lack of oxygen will make them drown. That rule applies to everyone, good or bad, equally. It doesn't matter if the drowning person has strong moral fiber.And it doesn't matter if you're a good or a bad person, once you become addicted to drugs. What happens next is inevitable. It's a natural process that happens in everyone's brain, once the drugs take over. So don't ever fool yourself into thinking that only weak or bad people get addicted.

How do you think your body and mind would respond if you were surrounded by psychologists, psychiatrists, or drug and alcohol counselors who subscribed to the belief that "once an alcoholic or addict, always an alcoholic or addict" and who believed that your current stay in rehab would be one of many?

There is no such thing as 'just one last cigarette' _ except the last cigarette that you've already had.

Do we? Our problem is whatever wedges between us and God.

I can no longer cry. I groan a few times. Through the slits that are my eyes, I stare at my shoes, at the gray swirls of the concrete floor, at the bright orange lid of my syringe. And I realize__t__ a kind of horror__hat this is my life.And I can__ stop. I just can__ stop. I can__ stop anymore.

That was the problem with love, though, wasn't it. It couldn't be helped, couldn't be controlled. It just roared in and took whatever it wanted, destroyed whatever it wanted; the most dangerous addiction of all, because nobody survived it intact. But an addiction that was impossible to let go.

If we must tempt to Pleasure, how do we tempt to the least amount of Pleasure? Or better yet, tempt them to its opposite? But how to tempt them to pain.

Gately can't even imagine what it would be like to be a sober and drug-free biker. It's like what would be the point. He imagines these people polishing the hell out of their leather and like playing a lot of really precise pool.

I am not addicted to coffee, it find it's way every morning.

I lived to be forgotten because I'd forgotten how to live

I chose to share both the good and the bad parts of my story, and of my imagination, so that it might help even one person realize that there is hope. You are not alone. And it does get better. I promise you it__ worth it.