I think those choices get harder with each "hit" to the addiction. There are many hidden addictions in life. Some are good, bad and benign. All addictions can, if left unchecked and over indulged, lead to destruction. There are those I dare say who exercise too much to the adverse effects on relationships and social life. There are those who over eat, over drink, have too much sex, have bad thoughts followed by bad actions, and those who abuse substances of nefarious nature.
There are addictions to people, or certain types of people. Attraction to the same characteristics that just never seem to work with your own. At least not for very long. A challenge at first, that adrenalin, that thrill. The danger and frustration hidden by lust and excitement, by hope and persistence.
I have some silly addictions. I will admit them to you. I am addicted to buying nail polish. And mascara. And logic puzzles. I am addicted to face book, and knitting and coffee in the morning. One cup, maybe two. I have that under control.
Many, many years ago, after my grandmother passed away I helped my parents clear out her room at the 'home' and go through all the things. She had moved here from the East Coast with very little. We bought her furniture, new clothes, pretty much everything. We knew, or rather, thought we knew what she had. I was shocked and horrified at how much crap this woman had accumulated in less than two years. She had squirreled away an unimaginable assortment of... well, junk. Junk from other resident after they passed and their families left things out in the hallway. A little five finger discount? Wouldn't put it past her. She had clothes she couldn't fit into. She had paper, cards, the list goes on, and on.
The point to this being, not only was she Crazy, with a capital "C", but she was addicted. Among other things. After seeing all that and realizing I shared DNA with the woman, I have given up being a pack rat. No addictions to "keeping" things. At least not for very long. I could see what she had become, and didn't want any part of it.
So I wonder, when I look back on my life, and see the addictions, quirks and habits of myself... why is it so hard to break the addiction? Why do I keep finding myself on the same path? Men? Yep... same assholes over and over and over. It's a pattern... and addiction. I think I'm often to impetuous, spontaneous, and happy go lucky. I need to stop and think before I leap. Perhaps my addiction is leaping? Or hoping?
I think it's time to rummage through all my nail polish ... and chill out. Now, what color?
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