The roller coaster

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On the other side of the world stands a monster, looming against the sky. Majestic and mysterious, its ominous peaks taunt adventurers, beckoning them, challenging them to cross thousands of miles and travel across oceans only to begin the climb. The summit, at 29 thousand feet, is the highest place on earth. 

Everest.

Sounds like a great place for a roller coaster track, doesn't it? I mean, check out that setup! It's perfect! Think I'm kidding? What about your life? What about mine? We've all heard the cliche: "Life is like a roller coaster." Ups, downs, quick turns, sometimes it's fun, sometimes you scream and get turned upside-down, sometimes you barf your guts out, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I get that. But living with addiction? Living with addiction is like a roller coaster on steroids. To me, it feels exactly like I would imagine a roller coaster ride on the slopes of Mt. Everest might feel.

Don't get me wrong! I love coasters. In my younger days, before I felt old and boring and spent more time in theme parks than real parks, I used to be a real roller-coaster junkie. But when you're riding a roller coaster with a 29 thousand foot drop and you're sure you're going to die at any moment, it kind of takes the fun out of it. And you know what else? When there's a malfunction, I'm a little sick of being the one jumping off the car, freezing my buns off on the mountain, and trying to fix the track all by myself.

Recently I heard an amazing piece of advice from Nora, who is one of the most amazing women I know. She said something to this effect: "We live with our addicts for so long and love them so much that we end up riding their roller coaster. But you have the power to get off the ride!" 

I have really taken this piece of wisdom to heart. In fact, I was talking to my family about it this past weekend, and it has made an enormous difference for me this week. The timing was impeccable. It has been a very trying few days, to say the least, and with all that has happened, I really needed that kind of perspective. 

You know, I have my own roller coaster. It's crazy. I love it ... mostly. And he has his roller coaster too. If he wants to continue to ride Mt. Everest, that's his choice. But I don't have to do it anymore.

Now, some of you may be thinking that "riding my own roller coaster" refers to my divorce, but that's not necessarily true. I think it's deeper than that. I'm not talking about physical or marital separation. I'm talking about a re-assignment of guilt, responsibility, and work. I'm speaking as a wife of an addict here, not as an addict, so my perspective may be different from some of my readers, but ... I think it's important for us -- victims of abuse, neglect, or the fallout from pornography usage or sexual addiction -- to remember that we don't have to inseparably link our emotions and/or actions to the behavior of our addict. In fact, it's just not healthy, and it doesn't help anything. At least it never has in my 10-year relationship. I really feel like Mrs. A nailed it with her post a while ago, "Killing My Own Buffalo." She put it so simply and so clearly when she said: "I am responsible for my own salvation and my own life." And then she went out that day and got everything done that she needed to do instead of wallowing in misery and feeling incapacitated by what addiction had done to her family life. Such a great example! Such a perfect instance of what I'm talking about. So, when I talk about riding your own roller coaster, I don't mean run away -- I just mean find your own way. You can. You must. You will be better for it. And I'm not saying it is wrong to have feelings. It's good to be authentic. Just have your own feelings on your own timeline. You can do this. 

And by the way ... addicts can get off the roller coaster too. It is not impossible to rebuild that track in a more sane location. It's a lot of work. And it will take time. But if you let us, we will probably even pitch in and help. ;)