I hovered in the space between dreams and waking, caught off guard by the booming Voice that had just asked a question.
“What are your addictions?”
I was asleep—yet on the edge, aware enough to know that morning lurked just ahead. I could ignore the Voice, open my eyes, or turn the other way, return to the dream that still whispered at my side.
“What are your addictions?” the Voice asked again. Persistent, gentle, yet unyielding.
I pulled closer to the Voice and my dream faded, lost to me. I was annoyed at that, irritated to lose such precious inspiration. “Is this really necessary? I needed that dream.”
“It doesn’t matter, what are your addictions?” it asked for a third time.
“Plural?” I asked somewhat arrogantly. “I’ve already proven I’m not addicted to alcohol, I gave that up in the blink of an eye, so what are you after here, specifically?”
“What are your addictions?” The relentless Voice would not budge.
“Carbs.” I said finally, offering up one that was undeniable. “Sugar. And Chocolate. There. Satisfied?”
Silence. For a moment I thought I had appeased the Voice and drifted away, searching for my lost dream.
The Voice pulled me back again. “What’s behind the food? It’s never about the food. That is what you always say, isn’t it?”
I paused. I do always say that. I just don’t always say that to myself. I drew closer to the Voice. Considered.
What were my addictions? What did pull at me, tug at my resolve, interfere with my dreams, my goals, my clarity?
“Social Media. Holding on too tight to things that don’t serve me. Waiting… I’m addicted to waiting. ” I tossed out the words like bits of bread to a bird.
The Voice didn’t bite.
“Symptoms,” it said patiently. ” Not the addiction. What are you addicted to? Go deeper.”
Now I was perplexed. I truly did not know. I dug deeper. Searched behind the too many hours spent chatting on Facebook until my more disciplined version of myself dragged me away. I peeked behind the late-night carb cravings and the dissatisfaction hidden there. I observed the many hours filling time while I waited—watching…wondering…not taking instant action because… because…why?
It was there. Right there, hovering in the shadows, slightly out of reach. I caught a glimpse of a face, shiny damp eyes, worried expression. Curious, I stepped closer.
“That’s it,” the Voice encouraged. “What is it? Can you see it? Can you name it?”
I stepped closer still. Into the darkness. I saw the face of hope staring back at me. I gasped, my heart pounding as understanding dawned.
“Recognition,” I muttered. “I’m waiting for recognition. And acceptance. Approval. ” I stared at the face. The lines, the stress, the pinched brow, the fear behind the hope. There was something else, something deeper, more frightening… more…vulnerable.
“Permission. I’m addicted to permission. Permission to be right.” A voice, tiny and awestruck, that didn’t sound like my own, finally confessed.
The Voice was silent for the longest time. I shifted on my feet, tightened my shoulders while I waited. Waited… wondering if I was right… waiting for approval…
“Oh.” Damn. “I get it,” I said sheepishly when the silence had made its point.
“Then what are you going to do about it?” The Voice asked gently.
“I don’t know…” were the first words spoken as my eyes opened and I greeted the morning, the entire conversation rushing into my day.
I really don’t know. But… something. I’m going to do something.
If you are ready to do something once and for all, join Wendi & Deb in a Journey to the Center of Your Heart, beginning in Nov, 2013. Discover how unconditional love – especially unconditional self-love, self-respect, and self-confidence can change your life forever more. And! Did you love this post? Share! Spread the love with your friends! And subscribe to Around the Studio so you never miss a new post! Thanks for reading!