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Dear Diary:

Casually watching my foot steps leaving the softest of impressions in the sand, making me ponder over my life and the choices I had made. I had been called co-dependent before, but hadn’t fully understood the meaning behind it. Surely, I wasn’t the one with the problem. I wasn’t the addict.

I was normal, I had followed all the rules. I was a good girl, growing up in a well-to-do family in the suburbs, eating most my vegetables, attending church on Sundays, not talking back to my elders, graduating from high school and eventually graduating from college with honors and two Masters’ Degrees to show for all my hard work. I was the one following all the rules. I am not the one with the problem.

But, today my therapist told me a different ending. I was just like the addict, I was addicted to covering up for the addict. I was trying to save him. I loved him and to be honest with myself, I loved him more than I loved me. Just like an addict loves their drug of choice more than themselves, more than their wife, more than their mother, and more than their children. They would die for their addiction, just like I would have died for you.

But I’m not the addict, you are.

January set down her pen, reaching for the box of tissues, as the tears streamed down her face. Today had been one of the hardest days of her life and probably ever to come again. She had to say good-bye to Jack, he would kill her if she let him. He was drowning and pulling her down into the current with him.

But she was a survivor, she was stronger than he. She had the will to fight and gain back the control she had relinquished on the day she had accepted his drug addiction, thinking she could save him and not knowing she couldn’t, but no more. She wanted to live and she knew now that she must face these demons on her own and without Jack.

Written By: Ask Ms Mandi
Photograph By: Ask Ms Mandi
Copyright July 9, 2016