I’m an addict. Of a sort.
I’m not addicted to substances, though. Well, that’s not true. I’m addicted to coffee, but that’s not what I’m getting at. I get addicted to people and feelings.
When my wife left me three years ago I become physically ill. Eating made me nauseous. For almost two months the only things that I could keep down were coffee and alcohol. I couldn’t sleep. I laid wide-eyed in bed at night with errant thoughts racing around my head like the Daytona 500. My doctor told me my symptoms were those of withdrawal. It seemed I was addicted to my wife and being denied her love was physically harming me.
Based on that information, it would appear that at one time I was addicted to my children, too, because the same thing happened to me when they were no longer a part of my everyday life.
Self discovery is a good, however sometimes weird, thing. For instance, I recently learned (though I should have realized it long, long ago) that I can become addicted to certain songs, which, I’m guessing, is because of the feels they evoke.
This song, for example…
This song brings me to the brink of tears almost every time I listen to it. A lump rises in the back of my throat. My mood turns dour. Colors begin to dull.
Despite evoking such misery inside I cannot stop playing it. I find myself hitting repeat on this song in the car to and from work. I can’t stop myself from doing it. I know this song drags me down into a desolate mental place yet I, almost reflexively, hit the repeat button once the song is over. Unconsciously, I sing along. The song ends and I hit the back button again. And again. I don’t even know why.
It occurred to me, days into this behavior, that this is quite disturbing. Why on Earth do I keep listening to this song? I mean, I know as I’m reaching for the button to play this song for the umpteenth time that I shouldn’t do it BUT I CAN’T STOP. Do I subconsciously enjoy feeling horribly morose? Am I a mental masochist? Am I addicted to heartache?
I don’t have the answers. Hell, I don’t even have a clue.
But I can’t help but wonder…
What the hell is wrong with me?