Monday, April 17, 2006


Once again the addict has awaken me. Rather I should say I woke up from a dream, felt the emptiness in the bed beside me, and the addict took over my thoughts. My husband sometimes goes to work in the middle of the night -- yeah, he's really going to work, he has no time for other mistresses, this one minds his obsessions day and night. And sometimes while he's gone I wake up too. Sometimes I'll sit on the computer and chat with people who make their living at odd hours -- horny men or lonely men, just looking for someone to talk to. After all, I'm just a horny, lonely woman looking for someone to talk to and misery loves company.
But tonight I didn't even need the computer for the addict that lives inside me to get me all worked up. I'm addicted to escape -- usually it presents itself in an overwhelming urge to find someone to, simply put, fuck. It's the finding, not the fucking, that gives me the high. Sometimes the sweet taste of chocolate, bite after bite -- or even other foods -- that take me away. Tonight, I woke up rather obsessed about how in two weeks when I slip away for the weekend with a guy I frankly don't even like, who I know is an alcoholic, I'm going to drink vodka with him with wild abandon. He's going to smoke a million cigarettes, and I might even smoke some with him. And I know he's going to drink. The addict in me who has never shown herself to be an alcoholic, even in the college and after college years when I did drink on a regular basis, but now she craves a new vice. Sex isn't cutting it anymore. She even feels drunk and slurry as she writes. Oh, what sweet escape. How long will she scream?

By the way, for those of you who check in on me now and then ... I'm still alive. My recovery from addiction goes up and down and as you can read today -- it's on a down plane. But I've started to see a new therapist and am hopeful. I don't come here to write anymore. I'm not sure why. I've thought about it a few times -- both in times of acting out and in times of recovery. Could be because I never use "Rae" anymore. I've become "Staci" to all those horny, lonely men. But I'm still the addict who needs confession, especially on nights when she wakes up feeling drunk and aching for a drink, even though she hasn't had a drop. Cheers!

1 comment:

scribe said...

I miss you and hope you are okay.