- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
I'm addicted. And I know this. It's been going on for years. Since elementary school, in fact. Yet, mostly I've kept it rather quiet. The people closest to me know, of course. Mother and Dad, my two best friends, Kate and Barb. And Dean knew. He hadn't realized it when we were dating, but when we'd been married just a short time, I could not hide it from him. Dean hadn't exactly approved, but he also hadn't made an issue of it.
It simply wasn't discussed. Ever.
Of course, there's no discussing anything with Dean anymore. He was killed in a freak accident on our eighteenth wedding anniversary, poor thing.
That's the day everything changed for me. Suddenly, I was on my own for the first time ever. Just little me.
Well, just me and my thoughts.
Or rather, just me, my thoughts, and my addiction. No steadying influence to keep me grounded. It didn't take long to give in completely. And I don't know of any twelve-step programs for it. Not that I'd take part in one. You see, I don't regret my addiction.
I'm addicted to writing. That may seem silly, but it's serious. I finally realized just how serious--when I discovered I was writing the story of my life...