One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name - Sir Walter Scott.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Can Illness be Addictive? (Part 2- What's in it for me?)

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Could I be subconsciously using illness to escape something I don't want to confront or do?

Has being 'unwell' become a habit, an addiction, a delusion  so convincing I fail to see what others see? Have I ever asked myself why I am so anxious and others are not? Have I convinced myself  that if I lost my illness I would not cope, not be able to live the life I live? Do I find some sort of twisted comfort in being sick? Like someone with an eating disorder who finds avoiding food and controlling the way they look as something within their power...that they can control?
Is the thought of myself not being that guy who's always sleepy, moody, funny, vague, naive, a loner, sensitive and difficult too much for me to deal with? 


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What am I getting out of being the loner, the one who needs to lie down, the one who always says 'no' he's too busy or says 'yes' but never delivers?

Could it be that my illness has in fact become an  addiction? Because addiction includes rewards. In my case could I be using illness as an excuse to avoid things I don't like doing, to spend more time at home doing things I like?

Am I addicted to the close physical sensations of being unwell that somehow  act as a substitute for intimacy with other human beings?

Image Ownership being sought


It is possible that I have have come to think of the feelings as 'me' ....as 'normal'? To suddenly be free of anxiety and depression (a version of sadness) is a little frightening, as a prisoner might experience on his first day out of  gaol . 

Released prisoners often talk of wanting to return to the safety they felt behind bars. I admit I've had similar thoughts that if ever I was given a long gaol sentence for something it would provide a relief from the daily decision making problems of ADD (in fact a large proportion of prison population has ADD). The routine would be comforting and inescapable, giving me plenty of time to hyperfocus on writing my memoirs. 

But seriously.....have I been deluding myself all these years as an excuse to feel 'emotional', eccentric, different, special?

I've said it many times...that I would hate to be 'ordinary.'...

But I never considered the rewards... 

that being 'ordinary' may also mean healthy, happy and content.

Andante






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