9/9 A Letter to My Addiction
“Write a letter to one of your addictions past or present.”
I haven’t always been able to identify you as separate than me.
The blurry line between what is true and what is a mean thought is hard to differentiate.
There have been times when you ruled my internal dialog, and others when you were quiet, but I thought you would always be there.
I saw you reflected all around me, in the way my family communicated, my school was orchestrated, and my social circles were patterned to behave. In the way my bosses directed me, in the way strangers looked at me, and the way my students reacted to my classes—you were always lurking, waiting to be called upon.
I thought gossip was normal, complaining was necessary, and victimhood was the way we all acted.
Speaking negatively about my body, my choices, my partner and my goals, YOU, the nasty voice, the inner critic, the nit picker, have plowed through my peace of mind, leaving caution tape where I had sought to plant flowers and welcomes signs. But the sun knows how to shine, and I know you have not completely paved paradise and put up a parking lot.
Yes, I have been addicted to taking big fat mental shits all over my life. Yes, I am still an addict.
And, now, I know the difference. I know I am not my thoughts, and that I don’t have to believe all my mean thoughts are true. And when I forget, the heart is here to save me. I turn to meditation and friendship and song when I need to remember—I am kindness, and kindness is within me. I can choose to think kind thoughts, even when you are chomping at the bit to convince me otherwise.