I joke about it, but I shouldn’t, and it’s time that I look into it.
I don’t know enough about the genesis of addiction.
- Is it learned behavior?
- Is it genetic?
Maybe a combination of both.
Somewhere in my childhood, I learned many coping skills that never served me as an adult, yet I don’t course correct my actions, so maybe addiction is a trauma response.
Maybe it’s a way to resolve the pain of living.
I don’t know.
I can look back at all the addictive behaviors that defined different chapters of my life and recognize triggers and habits that could be a factor in my addictions.
From food to work to substances – the relationship I have with denying certain titles is likely to my detriment.
I pride myself on being an advocate for identities, yet the one I’m not willing to own is that of an addict.
Because of the stigma?
Because maybe I don’t get to call myself an addict?
What qualifies me to self-diagnose?
Am I far enough from some focal point that my behaviors are not addictive because it’s “not that bad?”
What if I don’t want to get help? Would that make me less of an addict?
If I acknowledge “the problem” and choose to do nothing about it, what does that make me?
Who do I get to be when I don’t want to address the things that could kill me?
At some point, I’ll break down the other addictions I have because they require a careful hand, and I need some therapeutic support before articulating them in a way that won’t spiral my mental health.
The one addiction I can speak freely on now is my desire for any pills that induce sleep – either through sleeping pills or pain meds.
I have an oxy on standby for when I’m feeling like having a night of funky dreams.
In the interim, other substances will do, and no, this is not some cry for help.
Sometimes we need to process thoughts and feelings when understanding behaviors without assigning meaning, even when those behaviors have a word to describe them, like an addiction.
The relationship I have with drugs is nuanced. I recognize my tendencies and avoid temptation. However, with the past few surgeries and anxiety/panic attacks, I’ve got a collection of pills that make me wonder otherwise.
Because now I can’t sleep on my own and I’m not sure I want to.
Drowsiness is meditative, and I don’t want to judge myself for seeking peace of mind.