top of page

November 06 • Falling Tall

Day 485

It was called independence.

It was praised as self-confident.

It was lauded as not being afraid to be alone.

I had all those things in spades.

I also believed I was praiseworthy in my persona, while the ache in my soul was immense. But that was just the price I paid for being a good Christian boy who placed more value on principles than friendship. Right?

Then I found my soulmate, and I never wanted to be alone again. My wife was my salvation until our marriage hit a few little bumps that were surely no worse than those experienced by others; I had a place to go. But rather than fight through the conflict and the discomfort, I'd just run off with my self and my games and my fantasies where no one could hurt me.

This understanding is all hindsight, and I question my backward vision even as I embrace it as at least part of the conversation about my addiction. But this has crystallized in my analytical musings as making fundamental sense. I have never reached out for help from a friend beyond simple tasks or repairs; I was the life-crisis caregiver for things emotional.

Sure, I'd see counselors and read books and talk to the preacher, but those all had boundaries or rules, and I was only at risk to the limits I wanted to be. Now I have to drop those limits, with my wife as well as my fellows.

This injunction is scary. And this writing is the first time this issue has exposed itself to me, or maybe it's the first time my addict has been exposed to this truth. Either way, this is a game-changer...

...if I can do it.



My failures, my fears and doubts

Have been haunting me

I'm just not who I thought I'd be

–Stavesacre, ”Freefall"



bottom of page