She's like a drug

She is like a drug. Sorry to sound like a horrible Kelly Clarkson song, but shit... I can't think of another analogy. The withdrawal phase is here now. I can't do anything about it but fight it out. I need to get over the muscle pain, headaches, and cold sweats, just like a drug addict needs to do in order to get clean and live a happier, healthier life.

Ok, so maybe my participation in AA makes me see life this way, but she is a drug, a comfort, a conflict, something that I have loved for so long. When it's time to let go, it isn't easy, but it must be done... for me. Having cut things off cold-turkey, I long for a text from her, a grin, a "hey, how you doing?" Alas, it never comes. It helps me to see everyday just how little I matter to her. It's a steep curve in a very long learning lesson.

I stopped crying about the situation last week. I'm not sad. I'm not shocked. However, I am sad and shocked. It's a balancing act of figuring out what is the best for me. Walking away sounds good, but it is so much easier said than done. That's just life right? Another drug I lunged onto and another drug I must peel myself away from. This process has never killed me before, nor will this. It just aches a little. Less than it ever has before. I'm on the right path, I just wish I could see the forest through the trees. Forest, where the fuck are you?