Addiction, Withdrawal, Recovery

I. Addiction 

He was the drug; she was the addict. 

She needed him like she needed air. 
With white knuckled grip, she clung to him. 

He left; she begged for more. 
He returned; she got her fill-
her lethal antidote. 

The poison was toxic, but the absence was torture, 
and the cravings insatiable. 

She was always seeking, 
always longing, 
always aching. 
He was never enough-
a momentary relief followed by a greater void. 

Power was not in her body; 
she surrendered it to him. 
"No" was not in her vocabulary; 
she surrendered that as well. 

Sunken eyes, 
greying skin-
she took another hit. 

 II. Withdrawal 

A blurry reflection gazes back; 
she begs it to be strong. 

Six days on an empty stomach. 
Wide-eyed on an empty bed. 
Trembling body, hazy mind, racing heart. 

Reality begs her attention, 
but her eyes are closed: 
her eyes which beg for sleep, but sleep won't come. 

She rocks.
She shakes. 
She paces. 
She wishes for her poison or for her death. 
She ruminates. 
She obsesses. 
She dreams. 
She gives herself her wishes in fantasy. 

Her world slips further away.
Her body is not hers. 
But the numbness feels kinder than the pain.

III. Recovery 

Every morning, another tally etched in the wall. 
Sober one more day.

Avoidance is her ally.
Her body lurches at the thought of exposure,
so she hides herself away. 

She seeks safety in the shadows. 
She rests. 
She regains her strength. 

Her eyes begin to clear, but the glassiness remains. 
Her starving body begins to beg for food. 
The clock begins to tick again. 

Five tallies on the wall.

He reminds her what she can not have- 
spiteful ink on cheap paper. 
Sabotage on her life of sobriety. 

Ten tallies.

She stands over an empty bin 
and violently rips his words apart, 
until they look as worthless 
as they had always been.

She finds her footing, and steps back into the light. 
She discards every piece of her life of addiction. 

She reclaims. 
She redefines.  
She remembers who she used to see looking back at her in the mirror- 
long before he became her reflection,
and she his.

New habits formed, old ones abandoned.

He tells her she is hooked. 
He tells her she's a fool.
He tells her she is dependent.

She laughs. 

Thirty tallies turn to sixty,
and sixty to ninety-
or is it a hundred?

She loses track;
she loses interest.

And she hears the whispers echoing down the telephone line:
"Addiction is in her blood."
Some call her a victim; 
others condemn. 
And she lets them think what they will. 

She found her power. 
She took it back. 
She learned how to say "no" again. 

She has nothing to prove.
She leaves a wall marked in tallies behind, 
and it speaks for her.

She needs nothing from him anymore.

You Are Enough

Tonight, in a moment of haphazard honesty, as we cuddle on your tiny mattress on the floor, your sweet little three-year-old voice tells me that your hair is different than your sister's. 

She has short, curly, blond hair. 

You have long, straight, brown hair like me. 

I know it's been bothering you. You don't say much when you're upset, and you've been inching towards this conversation for a couple of days. I see you holding yourself together. 

"People sure talk about your sister's hair a lot, don't they?" I say quietly. 

I watch your face melt into a puddle in front of my eyes. I see it. That first pang of inadequacy that I know too well. That initiation into the world of comparison. That unfair moment when you acknowledge that something you have isn't what someone else wants from you.

 

"That has to get old." I say to you. 

I wish this were the last time you would find yourself at the mercy of someone else's judgement.

But, Darling, this is just the beginning. 

It is just the first time you will hear that you are not enough. 

It is just the first time you will hear that your worth hinges on your appearance. 

It is just the first time you will hear that there is a hierarchy of beauty, and that you fall short of the top. 

For you will hear that you are not tall enough. Too tall.

Not thin enough. Too thin. 

Not curvy enough. Too curvy.

Not dark enough. Too dark. 

Not light enough. Too light. 

Not pretty enough. Too pretty. 

You will hear that the other girl's eyes are prettier. 

That her clothes are nicer. 

That her hair is longer. 

That her body is prettier. 

That her teeth are straighter. 

That her nose is cuter. 

That her legs are smaller. 

You will hear a million times over how you don't measure up.

And as I lay here, your big brown eyes looking up into mine, I wish I could take that all away from you. Oh, how I wish I could shield you from the ugliness that is comparison.

But I can't. I know I can't. 

So I tell you that I remember a time when I wished I had blond hair like my sister. That I wanted to have hair just like her, not my brown hair. 

But then, I grew up, I tell you, and I had a baby of my own- with brown hair and brown eyes, just like me. And I was so happy that she looked like me.

You've moved on, now, as three year olds do. You're singing songs and not going to sleep. 

And I've come downstairs to lay my head on the kitchen table and cry. 

It's not fair, Baby. 

It will never, ever be fair. 

People will use you and judge you and compare you all your life. They will find your value in the way you look. In the things you can do for them. In the all the things that have nothing to do with your value at all. 

And they're going to do it whether I like it or not. 

But here, in this home, it will not be this way. 

We will not compare each other. 

We will not value one's attributes over another. 

In this home, we will love each other well. 

And when the world wears you down, and you feel less than adequate, you can come back home. And I will be waiting here for you, always, telling you that you are enough.

 

Demand And Supply

He always had an attraction to that which would catch the eye. A lover of the impressive. A collector of sorts. 

So that he stopped to admire her should have been no surprise. 

She was lovely- a young seedling, brimming with potential. He looked at her approvingly and dreamed of what she might be. He took a small piece of one of her delicate leaves and found that it was good to eat. 

Soon, he knew, she would begin to produce bigger, more flavorful leaves. She would bloom and her flowers would be beautiful. 

He needed her. He wanted her. He had to have her. 

So he claimed her as his own. He watered her daily. He showered her with attention and meticulous care. He watched as she grew and sprouted new leaves, and he took the ones that pleased him. 

Those that passed would see him working tirelessly for her, day and night. 

"What a loving caretaker!" they said among themselves. "When does he ever rest?" 

He heard their whispers of approval and beamed with satisfaction. His work was just beginning. 

The days passed, and she sprouted branches, each with new leaves of their own. And each time he returned, he happily took what he wanted. 

One or two leaves. Or three. 

When she looked healthy, maybe more. 

He came back to water her, with the knowledge that everything he gave her would be replenished and would reward him twofold.

He was drawn back to her day after day. He craved the taste, the fulfillment, the satisfaction. He needed more. 

So he took more. 

And more. 

And as time went on, he began to test the limits of just how many leaves he could take without destroying her. 

Just one more. 

Maybe two. 

Until one day, he began to notice that new leaves had not been sprouting as quickly. That no flowers were appearing like he had imagined. That she was looking wilted. This beautiful plant he had dreamed of was not materializing. 

She was broken, he realized. 

After all he had done to nurture her? It wasn't right. He deserved better. 

Everyone could attest to it- he gave her his all. Every passerby knew of his devotion to her. 

He should have been getting something back in return, he thought. It was only fair. 

He watered her a bit more, holding back his frustration. Maybe she just needed time. 

So he waited until new leaves sprouted.

And they did- small, bright, new little leaves. He was pleasantly satisfied and gleaned to his delight. 

But in the next coming days, again no new leaves sprouted. He watched and waited in frustration. He came back to water her in hopes that she would have something for him. But nothing appeared. 

Days passed. 

Still nothing. 

She was wilted and sick. People no longer noticed her like they had before. They still saw that he was working tirelessly for her, but their acknowledgement fell flat to him, as he waited there, empty handed. She gave him nothing anymore. 

He waited a bit longer in hopes that she would redeem herself. That something would change. 

But it didn't. She only grew weaker. 

So when something caught his eye down the road- new plants, full and ready to be picked- his mind was made up. He had no more time to wait and watch her die. 

She was not what he had hoped for. She was useless to him now. 

And there was more to be had just down the road. 

And with that, he stomped her a few times into the dirt, crushing what was left of her wilting form. If he didn't need her, no one did. 

And he left to glean what he wanted elsewhere. 

Those that used to watch him caring for his plant stopped to question him. Why had he abandoned her? What made him leave? He had loved her so much, they thought. 

His anger spilled from his mouth as he told them how much time and energy he had wasted on her. How he devoted everything he was into helping her grow. How he watered her with fervor.

How one day, she stopped producing leaves. How she never even bloomed. 

That she was sick. Weak. Broken. 

That he tried. Oh, how he tried. 

But he couldn't wait forever. She asked for too much and gave nothing in return. She took advantage of him. She took his care for granted. She wanted his care and yet deprived him of the only thing he expected of her.

And some would nod their heads in understanding. Some would join him in his rage.

"How unfair!" They would say. 

They would urge him to move on and find something better- something more deserving of his tireless devotion. They would console him in his grief and ache in sympathy of the unjust betrayal thrust upon him. 

They would encourage him to be strong. To keep his head up. 

But as they kept him company in his anger and misery, something began to happen just back up the road.

The wilted flower, stomped into the dirt, crushed and crumpled and left to die, began to find life again. Her roots had been planted deeply and firmly in the ground. And a new shoot emerged.

Leaves began to sprout. 

Branches. 

More leaves. 

And the sunlight poured in on her, multiplying her strength each day. 

No longer was she wilted. Weak. Dying. 

No longer was she struggling to nourish herself with half of her resources. She could flourish, and bloom, and grow how she should have all along. 

And she did. 

With no one taking what she needed to thrive, she thrived. 

With no one taking what she needed to grow, she grew. 

With no one taking more than what she could give, she produced more than ever before. 

And now, down the road, another depleted plant begins to wilt. It will be discarded soon enough, and another will take its place. 

And so the cycle will continue.

Demand and supply. 

Discover and discard.

But she, lucky enough to be left behind, will bloom and thrive, and let the cycle of misery continue somewhere else down the road. 

The Things You Don't Own Anymore

I've started over many times over the last decade.

Building, collecting, clinging, dreaming. 

And then- trashing, destroying, forgetting.

Repeat. 

Repeat.

Repeat. 

Everything you left, every time, I discarded. I wanted nothing left to remember you by. 

Delete the pictures. Delete the songs. 

Crumpled love notes at the top of an overflowing bin. 

I drove the long way to avoid our places. I swore off anything on which lingered your touch, your scent, your ghost. 

Trash. Destroy. Forget. 

But with each repeated cycle, as I threw away pieces of you, with them I threw away pieces of myself.

My favorite songs. 

My favorite foods. 

My favorite clothes. 

My favorite memories. 

Trashed. Destroyed. 

Forgotten. 

And here I am again, looking at the remains of what you left in your hurried escape, and the old pattern tugs on me. 

Nostalgia stirs my core. Fights a battle with my disgust. With my regret. With my anger. With my grief. 

Oh, to start a life with a blank slate- to begin with that innocence, that wide-eyed optimism, that blind trust that you never earned, respected, or deserved. 

But that blank slate is a lie. An imagined possibility that does nothing but rob me of the things I loved. 

So I won't be trashing- not this time. I won't destroy the little pieces of rubble you left behind. 

I don't want to forget. 

Because I own these things. 

I own my memories. 

This song isn't the one we listened to together. 

It's just one that I love.

This restaurant isn't where you took me.

It's a place I love to eat.

This room isn't the one where you first kissed me. 

It's just a room- and you don't come here anymore. 

This wine isn't the one you brought home for me. 

It's my favorite wine. 

This spot on the couch isn't the place I sat when you announced your grand exit. 

It's just my favorite place to sit. 

This bed isn't our bed. 

This home isn't our home. 

This family isn't our family. 

My emotions aren't yours. 

My time isn't yours. 

My thoughts aren't yours. 

My decisions aren't yours. 

They're mine. 

And you own nothing of mine anymore. 

23 Not-So-Obvious Red Flags

There's a lot of obvious red flags in relationships. For instance, if the guy you just started dating tells you that he lives on the street and sells drugs for a living. Red flag. Or that girl you've been texting tells you that she lives with her ex-boyfriend but it's totally platonic. Red flag. Obviously. 

But there's a lot to be said for red flags that aren't so easy to detect. Maybe it's a marriage, or a friendship, or even a parent or sibling relationship- something isn't "right," but you aren't sure what it is. Or maybe you don't even know something is wrong. But if you're reading this, you probably do, on some level. 

So here's a list of passive, not-as-obvious red flags that you are in a toxic relationship. 

1. YOU QUESTION YOUR MEMORY 

You consider starting  (or actually do start) to write down what was done and said so you can go back to it later. They say something and then later insist they did not say it. You often wonder if you're making things up or going crazy. 

-"I never said that!" 

-"That never happened." 

-"I don't remember what you're talking about.

What this is: gaslighting

2. YOU HAVE CIRCULAR ARGUMENTS 

Your arguments don't seem to get anywhere. You can't keep track of what you were talking about. You get lost and confused often in your fights and can't get back to the real issues easily. 

What this is: often the result of gaslighting and red herring arguments 

3. GOOD ADVICE FAILS

Conventional conflict management advice backfires. You try to implement strategies such as fighting fairly, using better communication, using active listening, etc, but still find yourself in as much, if not more conflict when using them. You word things carefully, but they are repeated back in a negative way. You think they don't work or you are bad at them. They say they are doing them when they are not, or they reject the merit of the idea altogether and refuse to participate. 

-"I feel very misunderstood lately," turns to "you said I don't care about you!" 

-"I feel like I'm carrying a lot of the weight in the chores right now." turns to "you accused me of being lazy!" 

-"I need you to listen to me," is responded to with "you're the one who isn't listening!"

What this is: a sign to run for the hills! (Truthfully don't have a good answer for this one yet.) 

4. YOUR WORDS ARE USED AGAINST YOU

Things you said in good moments are brought against you in later arguments. Events or conversations are twisted later and used as ammunition against you. You feel afraid of things being taken out of context or misrepresented later on. You find yourself saying or thinking things like, "don't bring this up later!" or "I know you'll say something about this next time." 

What this is: manipulation 

5. YOU FEEL HESITANT TO ACCEPT HELP

They help you a lot, but you feel like there's always strings attached- even if you don't find out until later. You feel uneasy when accepting help from them, or you feel like a burden for asking for help. They assure you they want to help in the moment, but later say you are using them or taking advantage of them. You feel overly dependent on them but don't know how to stop.

-"After everything I do for you..." 

-"You don't appreciate how much I do for you." 

-"You're so ungrateful!"

-"You wouldn't be able to do anything without me." 

-"At least I..." 

What this is: manipulation 

6. YOU REGULARLY MISUNDERSTAND INTENTIONS 

They say explicitly hurtful or rude things, but then backtrack later and say you misinterpreted it. You feel guilty for being hurt or offended.

-"That's not what I meant!" 

-"You're so sensitive." 

-"You're always overreacting." 

What this is: gaslighting 

7. YOU QUESTION YOUR SANITY

You begin to wonder if you're crazy. You try to self diagnose or even seek out professional help. You believe you are mentally ill even if it can not be confirmed that you are. You may be diagnosed with depression and/or anxiety.

What this is: often a result of gaslighting

8. YOU FEEL CONDITIONALLY LOVED 

You are afraid of losing their love if you don't act a certain way. You are afraid to show anger, sadness, or other negative emotions for fear that they will withdraw attention or affection. 

What this is: manipulation; bad boundaries 

9. YOU FEEL RELIANT BUT MISERABLE

You are unhappy in the relationship and yet find yourself terrified of losing it. You feel stuck between wanting things to change and being too afraid to rock the boat. You feel like you would fall to pieces if you lost them.

What this is: often codependency and/or trauma bonding

10. YOU FEEL ON EDGE

You feel like any argument could be your last- you try to resolve all conflict in fear of abandonment. The relationship seems to always be teetering on the edge of ending. 

What this is: often a result of conditional love 

11. YOU ARE OFTEN CONFUSED 

You would describe your relationship as complex. You aren't sure where you stand or how you are doing. The dynamics of your relationship feel complicated. 

What this is: often a result of gaslighting 

12. YOU CAN'T LIVE UP TO EXPECTATIONS 

You feel like you don't understand how to make them happy. Nothing seems to work, even when you do exactly what they tell you they want from you. You feel like a bad partner/child/friend on a regular basis and don't know why you can't get better. 

-"If you really loved me, you would..." 

-"I work so hard to love you and you never return it." 

What this is: "changing the goalposts" 

13. YOU WALK ON EGGSHELLS 

You are afraid of bringing up any complaints or touchy subjects and try to rehearse them to make them non-confrontational. This doesn't work, and you end up in fights anyway. You don't know how to avoid confrontation. 

What this is: manipulation; often the result of  abuse

14. YOU FEEL ISOLATED 

You don't feel like you can discuss your relationship with others honestly. You feel ashamed of the problems in your relationship.

-"You are the only one who feels that way."

-"If you asked anybody, they would agree with me." 

-"No one else seems to have an issue with this." 

What this is: isolation

15. YOU ARE CONFUSED ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS

The issues you have with them are the same ones they have with you. You are confused about who is actually displaying each problem. They accuse you of being certain things (being irresponsible, untrustworthy, cold, dismissive, etc...) that don't feel true about you. The things they think about you are things you think are true about them. They accuse you of untrue things and then say you're dismissive if you defend yourself or ask for specific examples. You feel like you don't understand yourself. 

What this is: projection 

16. THE RELATIONSHIP BEGAN WITH A BANG

Premature "I love you"s, tons of attention, flattery, showering with gifts and compliments, talk of "soul mates" and rushed talk of "forever." If the relationship is not still in an early stage, this has worn off and you no longer are so wonderful. 

-"You're the only person I truly love." 

-"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

-"You're perfect."

What this is: "love-bombing"

17. YOU HAVE TO DEFEND BASIC CONCEPTS OF RESPECT

You find yourself having to explain basic concepts of human decency- why behaviors or words are wrong or unfair. You are treated badly but told it's not bad. You are questioned when you point out that their treatment is hurtful. 

What this is: often a sign of a lack of empathy 

18. THEY DISPLAY INTENSE STARES

They give you unnerving, unusually intense eye contact- especially in times of conflict or intimacy. You feel intimidated by or fixated by this stare. You may interpret this as a contemptuous glare, or as intimate or sexual intensity. You might catch them staring this way at another person with whom you know they are angry.

What this is: could be a "reptilian stare." 

19. YOU FEEL OVERLY DEPENDENT

You only feel "okay" if they are "okay." Your emotional health depends on theirs. You make decisions based on what they would think- even down to what to wear or what to buy. You avoid making decisions they would disapprove of. 

What this is: codependency 

20. YOU MAKE EXCUSES FOR THEIR BEHAVIOR

You rationalize their bad or questionable behavior to yourself or others. 

-"They didn't mean it like that." 

-"If I would stop ______, that wouldn't happen." 

-"I know they really love me." 

-"People just don't understand them." 

What this is: rationalization; could be the result of a trauma bond 

21. YOU FEEL REQUIRED TO BE TRUSTING 

They demand or expect your trust after they've done something to lose it or before they've proven themselves trustworthy. You feel guilty for questioning them. 

What this is: bad boundaries 

22. THEY HAVE LOTS OF "CRAZY" ENEMIES 

They indirectly or directly blame ex-partners, old friends or estranged family members for all problems in the relationship. Labels any people they've fallen out with in their past as "crazy," "manipulative," or "toxic." 

What this is: usually a sign that they are the common denominator 

23. YOU FEEL REPEATEDLY PULLED BACK

If you're mad, need space, or even try to break off from them, you find yourself getting sucked back in when you don't want it. They are suddenly kind, remorseful or reminiscent of the good times when you pull away. They promise to change, but the change doesn't last, if it happens at all. This cycle of breaking away and being pulled back happens repeatedly on a small or large scale in the relationship.

What this is: "hoovering"

If a lot of these ring a bell, seek out help! Don't make excuses any longer; fight the shame that comes from feeling defective or confused. You deserve to be in healthy relationships! You are worth it! 

The Cost Of Silence

I wish you would have spoken.

I wish, in those moments when the world demanded your silence, that you would have fought back.  

That your voice would have gotten louder. That you would have insisted that you be heard. 

I wish that when your eyes were opened to the cruelty, you had the courage to tell your story. 

That you would have exposed the truth. 

That when you were no longer in the grip of confusion and control, you would have known to speak out for those who had not yet escaped. 

For while you were silent, standing out in the light, 

I was still in the dark. 

My vision was shrouded by manipulation. My mind muddied in deceit.

I knew nothing of my prison.

I knew not that I was held hostage to the insanity, to the dysfunction, to the pain.

I was told that the darkness my eyes saw wasn't there. That the pain I felt was self-imposed. That the coldness and isolation was a figment of my imagination. 

And I believed. 

But had you called out to reveal what you knew- could I have followed you into the light? 

Could you have convinced me that the darkness was real? That I wasn't asking to be hurt? That I was cold and alone and I needed to escape? 

But your silence made them comfortable. 

For no one wants to hear of pain. No one wants to believe that humanity isn't always humane. That people are capable of despicable things. That some hearts are pumping poisonous blood. That their perception of a person could have been so wrong. That wolves do wear sheep's clothing. 

No one wanted to know the things you felt then, alone in that dark cage. 

It's shameful, they said.

It's unfair. 

Don't speak unkindly of others, they told you. 

Don't reveal your scars. 

They're ugly, they said to you.

Hide them away. 

Heal in privacy. 

And so you did. 

And your silence gave them comfort.

But their comfort came at a cost. 

And that price was paid by those still gripped in the confusion of the darkness. By the scars they now bear.

So now that I find myself in your shoes, here in the light, I will not be silent. 

I will not shelter in fear that those who still believe that the wolf is a sheep will find my stories unnerving. 

I will not listen when they insist that I am the predator. 

That my words are unfair and unkind. 

That my scars are ugly. 

No, I will be calling out. For there are many still sitting in the dark. There are many still lost in the murkiness of toxicity.

I will tell them about the darkness. About the control. About the pain and confusion and the manipulation. 

I will tell them to follow me- to follow my voice. To come with me to safety. 

For silence only feeds the oppressor. 

Pain and Relief

I was dangling from a cliff when he found me. 

I didn't call to him for help; he came running. 

"I'm here," he told me sweetly. And he reached out his hand. 

"Don't look down," he warned me.

I didn't. 

I didn't know what was beneath me. I didn't want to know. I didn't have to now.

I clung to him with shaky hands. He began to pull me up. Slowly. Slowly. 

"I will be safe," I thought. 

I could trust him. No- I must trust him. For without him, I would find myself hanging from the edge again. He was my hope. 

I felt like I may have enough strength to pull myself over the rocky ledge- almost - but then he stopped pulling. He looked at me with interest as I hung there, looking back. 

"Do you trust me?" He asked me. 

"Yes!" I replied earnestly. 

I sensed his hesitation. Why didn't he believe me? What had I done to lose his interest? 

I felt his grip loosen on mine. And then, without warning, he let go. My body lurched downward. My arm swung desperately to the rocks in front of me, grasping the ledge for support. My other arm clawed up to meet it. 

"Please," I begged him, "don't go. I need you."

He paused. His eyes peered deep into mine. Would he save me? Was I worth saving? 

My arms throbbed. My clenched fingers ached. 

"I will do anything!" I pleaded. 

Then he reached down, his hand clasped mine, and he pulled my body up towards him. He held the weight of my body as I hung there, hand in hand, legs dangling over the unknown. 

Relief washed over me as the pain subsided. 

"Thank you," I breathed. He almost smiled. 

But his smile turned quickly. 

His grip loosened, then released, and I clawed at the jagged ledge. I caught myself on the rocks. My hands stung from the impact. 

"No!" I yelled to him, "No! Why?" 

What did I do? Did I say the wrong thing? What did he want me to say?

Confusion set in with the panic and pain. My hands were scraped, my fingers numb. My shoulders pulsed with adrenaline and desperation. 

"I will do anything!" I said as I had before.  But this time, he didn't reach back down for me.

No, that wasn't it. That was the wrong thing to say. So I fumbled for another way to convince him to come back to me. 

"You don't have to save me," I said halfheartedly. "You can go." 

But upon hearing this, he reached back down and pulled me up, closer to him. So close I could feel safety in my grip. So, so close. 

My muscles unlocked from their grip. 

The absence of the pain washed over me like a wave.

Ecstasy.

"I'm sorry." He said sincerely. "I care about you." 

"I know," I said after a moment. He must. Why else would he keep coming back for me? 

He pulled me closer to him. My body relaxed and let him hold me. I closed my eyes and breathed. I almost forgot I was still halfway over the cliff. 

Until I felt his hand twitch. 

My eyes sprung open. What was it? Was he having second thoughts?

He looked unsure.

Was I too trusting? Did I take him for granted? What did he need from me? 

No. Nothing.

No, he changed his mind. He wouldn't let go. 

His fingers tightened again around my wrist. Relief poured back into my body. 

I needed to know what it was that was making him doubt me. I needed to prove to him that I was worth it. I was worth saving! 

But was I? I wondered. 

Maybe he was right to doubt me. 

What had I ever done to earn his love? I didn't deserve him. 

And yet, here he was, holding on to me. Saving me from the pain. Keeping me safe. 

Loving me. 

But it didn't last. In an instant, he let go, and I found myself clinging to the ledge once again, bruised and scraped. My elbows began to bleed. My fingers were raw. The pain overwhelmed me. 

It was so sudden! I wasn't ready!

I looked at him in hopes of understanding this game we were playing. 

"What do you want from me?" I strained to ask as my body ached and swayed from the rocky ledge. 

He held out his hand to me. For the first time, I wondered if I really wanted to take it again. He would just let go. I knew he would. 

But the relief. 

Ah, that sweet, beautiful relief when I was no longer clinging to the edge. Had I ever felt anything so powerful? So intense? The more intense the pain, the greater the relief when he held me again. 

I couldn't resist. I couldn't stay in this pain. I needed him. I needed that rush. I needed that relief. 

So I grabbed him, all the while knowing that soon, he would let me go again.

 But maybe not as quickly. Maybe he would give me some time to rest. 

And he did. For several minutes, I hung there, held up by the strength of his arms. 

Waiting. Waiting. 

One arm holding on for life. 

The other anticipating the next fall. 

It was predictable. 

It came as I knew it would. 

The pain was familiar. 

Drop. Reach. Claw. Cling. 

Aching. Throbbing. Shaking. 

I felt my body numbing. 

The pain dulled. My tired body surrendered. 

And I said nothing. 

Waiting. 

Waiting. 

He'll be back. 

He always comes back. 

Relief will come. 

It always does. 

He seemed unnerved by my numbness. He watched me dangling there in silence, glued to the side of the cliff. Fingers locked in stubborn desperation. 

"I made a mistake." He said with sincerity. And he reached out his hand to me. 

But my numbness had overtaken me. 

Maybe I didn't need him after all, I thought. Maybe I can climb up without him. 

So I ignored his hand. And I swung my body, lunging for a foothold. 

Missing. 

Swaying. 

Hanging again. 

My body reminded me of the pain I was in. 

My mind remembered the ecstasy of the support he offered. The release. I needed it. 

I couldn't do it on my own. 

"If I grab your hand," I said, "you have to pull me up. All the way this time. No more back and forth." 

He nodded. "Of course. No more back and forth. Trust me." 

So I did. And with that, he grabbed both of my arms, and he pulled me up. Over the rocky ledge, away from whatever lay below. Away from my pain. 

My body reeled, sore and worn down. 

But that rush. That wonderful rush of euphoria when the pain was gone- it was almost like it never happened at all. 

So we stood there at the edge, he and I. 

And I fell into his arms. 

My rescuer. He saved me. He loved me. 

I wanted to hide myself away in him. 

Tie myself to him. 

"Never leave me," I whispered to him. For I knew now that I needed him to live. I needed him for survival. 

I was weak. I would surely have fallen to my death without him.

I owed him everything. 

We stood for a long time, I in his arms, recovering. Healing. Resting. 

And then- 

I felt his body move forward. I stepped back. 

He stepped forward again, and I back. 

Forward. Back. 

Forward. Back. 

My heel felt the ledge, and my body lurched towards him. I clung to him in sudden terror. 

"Please!" I begged him. "Don't let go!" 

I felt the anticipation of the pain setting in. The rocks digging into my skin. My muscles aching, holding the weight of my body. No. I didn't want to do it again. I couldn't. 

He took a step back. I stepped forward into him. 

He embraced me. A smile flickered across his face.

"What are you afraid of?" He said sweetly. "I was only walking towards you." 

I must have imagined it. How silly of me. 

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said, "I overreacted." 

"I told you," he reassured me, "no more back and forth. I meant it."

The reality of that security set in. He loved me. 

No more pain. No more fear. No more agony. 

So we stood. 

No more pain. 

And we stood. 

No more pain. 

Only relief. 

But we stood, and we stood, and a sense of uneasiness took over me. This relief didn't feel like it used to. I felt numb. Lifeless. Void.

Did he even love me anymore? How could I know? I looked in his eyes, and they looked as numb as mine. What happened? 

Perhaps it wasn't the relief that I wanted.

Perhaps it was the pain. 

Perhaps it was the fear that felt so wonderful. 

The intensity. The rush. The euphoria.

My body craved it. Begged for it. I didn't want to go on in this numbness- I needed to feel alive. I needed to feel that love again.

So I backed up. Just a step. And he followed me forward. He wanted this too. I could see it. 

I backed up. Just a little closer to the edge.

His feet followed mine. 

I felt the fear creep up my legs.

It felt horrible. 

Wonderful. 

And without a word, he took me by the arms and held my body out, leaned over the emptiness. My breath escaped from me. I dug my nails into his arms.

"Don't let go," I said instinctively like I had so many times before. 

He hesitated. I felt the panic wash over my body. Then the pain. Then the numbness. Then the waiting.

Like a script.

Like we both knew our part and played it well. 

He held me there for a minute. Debating. 

For a moment, I thought it was going to happen. He was really going to drop me off the side of this cliff. My stomach flipped. Would he really do it? 

And at the very moment I believed he would, he suddenly pulled me back into him. We tumbled onto the dirt together. 

I lay on my back, eyes closed, as the weight of the fear was lifted from my body. It felt surreal. It felt better than any time before. His love was so tangible. 

So real. 

I needed more. 

So we did this dance. Backwards, forwards. Pain, relief. 

Because anything less than pain felt like numbness. And only relief felt like love.

Pain, relief. 

Agony, ecstasy. 

Anxiety when it left. Euphoria when it returned. 

Pain, relief. 

Pain, relief. 

Until the day it stopped. 

The day when the cycle ended. 

The day when he walked me to the edge of the cliff, pushed me off, and walked away. 

And I fell. 

And in the moments before I hit the ground, I was sure I would die. He was never coming back for me. I would never survive the fall. 

But I did. 

I did survive. 

Because it was as I hit the ground that I realized that this cliff I had been clinging to wasn't a cliff at all. That the drop he had been saving me from wasn't far. That the pain I suffered from hitting the bottom wasn't half as agonizing as the pain I suffered from avoiding it. 

That he wasn't my rescuer; he was my captor. 

That I wasn't his damsel; I was his prisoner. 

That relief isn't joy.

That the absence of pain isn't numbness. 

That intensity isn't love. 

Perhaps he will go back to the cliff someday to see if I'm waiting there. To see if I'm clinging to hope that he may come back for me. 

Perhaps he will find someone else there instead. Some young girl who believes she needs to be rescued. Who doesn't know the difference between love and pain. He may find her there, breathless and desperate for his outstretched hand. 

But he will not find me.