I have a whole series of stories entitled Necrophilia about the relationship between a sober person and an addict. Having a relationship or having relations with me must have been a challenge. For many years, I was dead on the inside.
I had filled my life to make myself completely inaccessible to any type of romantic interest. I was working fourth to fifty hours a week, going to school at night,and avoided any type of eye contact. I had a few one night stands in early recovery that had taught me I was still a very sick person. I let myself be caught in useless sex traps when I easily could have given myself more credit. Or at least I could have selected better partners.
Any brush of a whisker, the smell of cologne, any hand upon my wrist made me think of stabbing someone. Go numb or kill them. Really. My brain was hard wired to animalistic strategies for survival. In my solitude, my little room, I slept with a sweat shirt or blindfold over my eyes and a knife near my bed. I was never sure where I was when I woke up for many years after I stopped using drugs. The memories would not stop. Do not touch a sleeping addict. Do not test their ability to cope with the new. After fifteen years inside, I can still sleep on a floor anywhere with no blanket but wake up in less than a second. Yeah, the primal is that strong.
Loving an addict is like reanimation or alchemy. You are bringing back what was dead or never existed and creating a model of love.
A reader send me some of his music so I wanted to post his link here. Click away.
I read all of your comments. My readers are very important to me.