When my dad died, I was in such a state of shock that a doctor prescribed Ativan.
I abused it.
I didn’t really understand what “take as needed” meant. I was grieving, barely functioning, and they handed a woman with ADHD a bottle of pills and vague instructions.
“Well, I fucking need it,” I thought, letting another one dissolve on my tongue. “Because if I don’t, I’m wrapping myself in his sweaters just to smell him and crying on the floor.”
I bounced from clinic to clinic until someone finally flagged it and cut me off.
For a brief moment, I felt nothing.
And it was nice.
That’s when I understood the appeal. Not because I wanted to get high. I just wanted the grief to stop.
So when people ask me how addiction happens, I think about that feeling. I think about how seductive relief can be when you’re drowning.
My shaman teacher taught a class on shadow work this week and told us to write down a list of our biggest pet peeves.
He then told us to put our name at the top of that list and said: “HERE IS YOUR SHADOW WORK”
Everyone was wrecked 😂