It wasn’t obvious at first.
Not when I started getting high—
even drinking every day—
just to feel something close to peace.
But looking back now,
that’s when I finally began to see
who she really was:
my former frenemy—
Addiction.
She took my hand with a smile,
promised to soothe the ache,
whispered comfort into the chaos—
and I didn’t realize
I was being abducted
by something I would learn to protect.
At the time,
I thought I was just coping.
Just unwinding.
But now I know—
that’s how she works:
soft, slow, smiling.
She doesn’t knock.
She moves in.
She makes you feel safe
just long enough
for you to start defending her.
Before that,
I judged people.
So harshly.
I couldn’t understand why they didn’t just
call 911—
on themselves.
Looking back,
I realize I was afraid.
Afraid I might one day
be just like them.
I’m not trying to be dramatic,
but here’s the truth:
Nothing we do in this life
is really about control.
Because most of us
don’t have any.
We just learn to hold on
to what hurts less loudly.
You might not be addicted
to drugs or alcohol.
But you’re addicted to something.
And it might look so ordinary
you don’t even notice—
not until the light hits it
just right.
And now I can see it everywhere.
In the scrolling.
The likes.
The hunger to be wanted.
The way we wrap pain in productivity.
The workaholism.
The food.
The chaos.
The silence.
The way we keep running back
to what undid us.
Addiction wears many masks.
It isn’t always a bottle or a pill.
Sometimes it’s the screen.
Sometimes it’s a spreadsheet.
Sometimes it’s a scale.
Sometimes it’s love
that doesn’t love you back.
Addiction isn’t always about disappearing—
sometimes,
it’s about staying just numb enough
to function.
It’s a guilty pleasure,
a coping strategy wrapped in silk.
Like that first spoonful of dessert,
the warmth of a hot bath,
a massage that melts
your whole body into calm.
It softens the mind.
Your breath.
The edge of everything.
Drugs are not good.
But that feeling?
That part?
It’s euphoric.
And that’s the trap.
It’s poison,
packaged as peace.
It’s deadly.
Twisted.
Tragic.
Beautiful.
Fake.
I didn’t see it then,
but now I understand—
we get dropped into this world
like skin on pavement—
and it hurts.
So we begin the search:
for comfort,
for release,
for relief.
And someone always profits.
Because in a world where pain is profit,
there’s an addiction to power,
to wealth,
to control—
and that’s its own kind of high.
I didn’t know I had a disorder.
Didn’t realize
my constant dips into depression
weren’t just flaws in my character.
I didn’t have the words yet,
but my body knew.
My brain kept trying
to love what numbed me.
I surrounded myself with others
who were hurting too.
For us,
drugs and alcohol became
the “medication.”
The lifeline.
The one thing we could count on
to hold us
when nothing else did.
Until one day,
you wake up and realize:
you either can’t live without it,
or you can’t live with it.
That moment?
It doesn’t depend on access to therapists,
or whether you have a support system.
Some people have everything
and still feel lost.
There’s no one way out.
No magic fix.
Some convince themselves
they like the feeling—
but the feeling secretly despises them.
Some say it’s the only way to cope—
but what they’re really afraid of
is the reckoning
within.
Some dip in and out
like a vacation to a familiar place.
But that slope?
It’s slick.
And what starts as fun
can become a trap
wearing a disguise
you begin to defend.
I didn’t know my first boyfriend
was a drug addict.
Because there are functional addicts—
people who smile through withdrawal.
And I was nineteen,
alone,
curious.
Experimental.
I thought,
Why not just try it?
It slowed my racing thoughts.
Opened my big, beautiful mind.
Made me see
things I hadn’t before.
That’s the truth.
Even poison can offer a glimpse of light.
But that state?
It’s not sustainable.
And there are better, softer ways
to find truth
without destroying yourself.
I was feeding pain
I hadn’t yet named—
rejection,
low self-worth,
betrayals by friends and family,
and a silent grief
with no language yet.
It showed up in how I ate,
how I loved,
how I lied to myself.
Because when pain is familiar,
you learn to serve it
like it’s sacred.
Addiction
is never about one thing.
It’s never just the substance.
Never just the behavior.
It’s always layered—
a diagnosis with too many names
to fit in one line.
You can’t fixate
on the addiction alone.
You have to ask:
What is she hiding?
Why did I let her in
so easily?
And when did I start believing
she was keeping me safe?
She led me to a wonderland
of forgetting.
Told me it was fun,
that pushing life away
was beautiful.
Sold me stillness
and called it healing.
And I believed her.
I needed her.
Until I didn’t.
And that’s where the real pain begins.
That’s why
there are angry drunks.
Because addiction lies—
but deep down,
you know it.
And still,
you defend her.
I remember a girl I worked with—
Friday nights,
dancing, drinking, laughing.
Then the switch would flip.
She’d rage.
Blame.
Scream.
And then—
she’d cry.
Collapse.
Fall into herself.
Every weekend.
Same arc.
Same pain.
Same loyalty
to what kept breaking her.
Looking back now,
I think she was carrying trauma
just beneath the surface—
masking it in margaritas.
And the man I was married to?
Same.
A boy abandoned by his parents.
A mother who vanished.
A father who never showed up.
Alcohol gave him confidence—
until it stole everything else.
By the time he reached me,
his war had already begun.
And one day,
his pain spilled into mine.
Neither of them deserved
what they were dealt.
But life doesn’t deal fairly.
It never promised ease.
We still have free will.
We still have the ability
to wake up one day and say:
What’s wrong with me?
or
I can’t live like this anymore.
Otherwise—
you stay loyal to your captor.
Loving the lie.
Defending the poison.
Calling it pleasure.
Yes—
you might love the high.
The relief.
The escape.
The way it silences the noise.
But please—
know this:
She isn’t your friend.
She doesn’t care.
She has no interest
in your healing.
She abducted you.
And worse than that?
She really hates you.
Emergency & Crisis Support
- SAMHSA’s National Helpline (USA)
📞 1-800-662-HELP (4357)
🌐 samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline
Free, confidential, 24/7 helpline for treatment referrals and information. - Crisis Text Line
📱 Text HOME to 741741
Offers 24/7 support via text for people in crisis, including addiction and mental health concerns.
12-Step & Peer Support Programs
- Alcoholics Anonymous (AA)
🌐 aa.org
Support for those struggling with alcohol use. - Narcotics Anonymous (NA)
🌐 na.org
Peer support for individuals recovering from drug addiction. - SMART Recovery
🌐 smartrecovery.org
A science-based program offering tools for recovery from all types of addictive behaviors. - Celebrate Recovery
🌐 celebraterecovery.com
A Christian-centered recovery program for all types of addiction, hurt, and hang-ups.
Online & Community Resources
- The Addiction Center
🌐 addictioncenter.com
Provides information on different addictions, treatment options, and rehab centers. - Shatterproof
🌐 shatterproof.org
Offers advocacy, education, and support for individuals and families affected by addiction. - In The Rooms
🌐 intherooms.com
An online recovery community with 12-step and non-12-step meetings via video.
Family & Loved Ones
- Al-Anon Family Groups
🌐 al-anon.org
Support for friends and family of people with alcohol addiction. - Nar-Anon Family Groups
🌐 nar-anon.org
Peer support for loved ones affected by someone else’s drug addiction.
Youth & Young Adults
- Partnership to End Addiction
🌐 drugfree.org
Offers tools, helplines, and resources specifically for parents and families navigating youth addiction.
J.N. Rose 