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Addiction is a beast that spins yarns of lies that we often believe.

These are the struggles an addict faces:

Encased in a swishing bell jar of beer, my brain screams at me. Hungover. Again.

I am a professional. It would astonish my co-workers to know that I am holding back vomit while they talk to me, that I was awake mere hours ago, drinking, drinking, drinking.

My body is almost used to this dull feeling of the next day. I used to take a day off when I felt this shitty, but now it’s more often than not, so I am accustomed to this silver fish headache razoring my head.

Addiction is the root of my family tree, and I tell myself, I am no where near as bad as most everyone else in my family. I justify the excess even though I know this is not healthy.

Healthy should be my goal… But, I poison myself.

When it’s not alcohol, it’s food. Consumption is key for me, it seems.

My beautiful friend has been working on her dissertation for years. She explained to me once that her inner voice tells her only smart people deserve a Ph.D., so she doesn’t deserve this distinction. She is brilliant, but her mind lies to her.

I feel like I don’t deserve to be healthy. To be sober. To be thin.

If I wanted those things, wouldn’t I just achieve them? I have always achieved everything I have set my sights on.

Instead, it seems, I’m content to wallow in the murky bottle, to deny myself nutrients and instead eat processed garbage.

I have worked so hard on so many areas of my life that I feel like I just need a break. My breaks include booze and fried food. Why?

Comfort food makes me feel very uncomfortable. And yet, I choose to eat this way every day.

I want to be my best self, and yet, maybe this is it.

Maybe this is who I always will be.