Dirty Junkie, Party of One
I have mused repeatedly about addiction. I come from a family tree rooted in substance abuse of various kinds, so my sympathy -- my empathy -- for this state of mind, of need, runs deeply.
Recently, I was lucky enough to catch a second showing of Storm Large's one-woman play, "Crazy Enough" (http://www.pcs.org/crazyenough/). Storm tells a striking tale of her life, one that includes no small predilection for affection-by-way-of-sex and an affinity for various kinds of heroin. Her story is heartbreaking and visceral, and if there is any way for readers to see this first-hand, I cannot recommend it more highly. It is so fantastic a show, I go back for my third dose on June 11th.
And herein lies my tale. Hi, I'm Eve, and I'm an addict. I latch on to people. I'm not sure why I do it, but I so clearly, and obviously, do it. Not in a sexual way, but in a slavishly devoted kind of way. It's like being star-struck, except that the objects don't have to be stars. It might be an author (Nicola Griffith), a musician (Roland Orzabal). It might be a local singer (Storm Large) or a popular massage therapist (snaps to *Kacie C.*). It might be the person I just met in the latte line. The frustrating part is while I can acknowledge my addictive tendencies, there's no "self-help" group for being addicted to people. Unless one is acting on those fascinations, i.e., sex addiction (and for the curious, thus far I am not), then one is S.O.L. Shit. Outta. Luck.
I received reiki not long after we moved to the Pac Northwest. It was amazing. And distrubing. My practitioner, let's call her Sarah (yeah, she's on my "Addicted To" list), was struck by the condition of my second chakra. She said it looked like "it had motor oil in it." Now, for those newbies to Eastern practices, a chakra is a seat of energy in the body. The second chakra, also known as the "sacral chakra," is orange in colour (http://chakrayoga.suite101.com/article.cfm/the_second_chakra_swadhistana) and is the seat of a person's sexual energy and ability to form relationships. You can imagine my horror at hearing mine was dirty orange. And at the time, I was completely confused. I was happily married; I come from a history of long, healthy, solid friendships. Why on Earth would mine have been so out of balance?
Well. It was stuck in backwash, apparently. Five years ago, I was extremely isolated. I had just relocated 2,400 miles away from my home state in the American South, where I left behind a lifetime of family and friend connections, a tightly-woven safety net that was not only emotionally sustaining to me, but also a foundation, a peace of mind. Flat tire? Call Dad. Didn't want to cook and too poor to eat out? Call Mom. In the mood for a game of Spades? Wanted to drink tequila and dance my fanny off? I had a pool of 50 people to call. And they all knew the path to my door.
Now? I knew only my partner; I had no connections at work (in fact I hated my job so much it made me ill - literally - until I quit after six months). We hardly knew were to go for groceries, much less anyone on a personal level well enough to ... you know, have them over for supper. Much less be able to really talk to someone. Confess fears or doubts. There was none of that going on. Ergo, a polluted sacral chakra. For three years that was my reality. It was so very impossible to meet anyone and connect in a real way. No easy-peasy church hook-up. I ran (alone). I had yet to acquire any societal hobbies. The Pac Northwest is structured differently. It's all club-based, and you have to work your way in with clubs. People here kayak in clubs. They hike in clubs. They play poker in clubs, knit in clubs, they organic garden -- in clubs! And there were days I cried openly on the bus, because I thought, "I'm too fragile for this. I can't stand it. I can't live so alone like this." And I would think ... we should go back. It was heart-rending.
But that which does not kill you, makes you stronger. It also, apparently, can make you an addict.
Nowadays my second chakra ... she is wide, wide open. I attract people like bees to pollen, flies to honey. My social circle has grown almost too big for me to maintain. And the price? I am addicted to people. Not in the cocktail party sense -- OH NO. That's not what I mean at all. I'm addicted in that "I want to get to know you," one-on-one way. And the better I know you, the better I become as a person. It's like I have a hidden motive to absorb all the fascinating minutia of every interesting person I encounter, and lately, I've been encountering way more than my fair share.
What's a girl to do? It's disorienting, and chemical, and utterly breathtaking. I know this much is certain ... if the alternatives are choosing between the dark, empty isolation of a quiet, unknown existence, and a polluted sacrum, or a wacky, fevered, ever-changing, always challenging life with a vibrant, alluring sacral center, that may or may not make me perceived as too open, too easy, too chatty, too flirty -- too What Have You? I will stand up and CROW my addiction status from the rooftops. And since that chakra isn't just the seat for relationships, but also for sensual energy ... well, you can see the perilous edge this meanders, no doubt.
So. I am a junkie. I can't get enough of the people that fascinate me. And if you are in my circle, or oooh, on my Special List? Well, you are in for a very memorable ride. Let's make the trip last.