Author: olivia d'trumpet PM
what happens when there is a support group meant for everyday addictions that get out of hand? inspired by a conversation i had on New Years Eve. first time publishing on fictionpress please read and reviewRated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Humor - Chapters: 2 - Words: 874 - Reviews: 1 - Updated: 01-19-13 - Published: 01-07-13 - id: 3090207
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Addictions, everyone has them. Some are addicted to other people, others are addicted to trouble. People become addicted to pain, attention, and gossip. It happens every day; we watch it happen to the best, to the worst, to the average. It's just a fact of life. So when someone asks me if I'm addicted to anything, I want to ask them something in return. Aren't we all addicts? Not necessarily to drugs or alcohol, but everyone has a vice and it's not exactly bad for us, we just can't control it.
We are here to give support and help set up boundaries that will help you cope with everyday things that you are addicted to. We are here to help you function. So welcome to People addicted. What are you addicted to?
Here I am at another meeting, where people admit they aren't perfect and then we as a group get all lovey-dovey and promise to solve their problems for them. But I don't roll that way. I can't pretend that there's nothing for me to worry about, that I'm supposedly cured. Well that's the answer my parents want and unfortunately that's not how it woks. Because I'm always going to want music and music's everywhere anyway.
Such as background music, the radio, and iTunes, that marvelous invention. It's not something I can "escape' and honestly I don't see anything wrong with my "addiction". I mean people use money put aside for food to buy music right? It's normal. I don't need to be here at this stupid meeting, I'm perfectly fine.
I look around the room, thinking that the people here won't judge, since they sorta understand. My parents sent me here because they found out I was cutting and the therapist they sent me to recommended this group. So here I am about to explain what I'm really addicted to. I don't like the pain that's not the part I like. But something about seeing my own blood gives me a giddy feeling, not like I'm about to faint, but as if I have all the courage in the world and I can do anything.
My therapist said I get an adrenaline rush from it. All I know is that it makes me real and not some mousy girl who hides behind her books. It makes me someone who can win and is worthwhile. Why would my parents want me to give that up?