It’s time to take a deep breathe and face the facts. I have an addiction. I know! A sex worker with an addiction. Color you shocked.
It started, as many of these things do, with an injury. I just used because of the pain. And of course, only at night after Monkey was asleep, when I could sit down and relax – and enjoy it. And that was the problem. I enjoyed it a little too much. It made me feel… a little too good. Soon I was using during the day, and then, occasionally, even when there wasn’t any pain. I just… needed it.
I wait until they are engrossed in Yo Gabba Gabba and sneak down the hall ripping my shirt off as I go. I wonder what my husband would think were he to come upon me, huddled topless next to the open linen closet with the Costco Bails of Paper Goods and other trappings of our new suburban life, clutching the remainders of my sweet chemical release.
I wonder if he would blame himself for not taking a minute to check in. For not taking a moment to rub my shoulders and tell me that he really does care. He cares at LEAST as much for me as for the magic cards he would be looking at while performing this imaginary shoulder rub.
I’ve tried to stop. I’ve tried to tell myself I’m wasting money we could really use for other things. I try to picture the shame I would see on my husband’s face if he were to notice the physical signs – or if, god forbid, someone ELSE were to see! Because yes, at this point, I don’t even keep it to the privacy of my own home.
But I just.
Themacare Heat Neck and Shoulder Wraps.
Next thing you know I’m going to start shoving a tissue up the sleeve of my cardigan and my transformation into my grandmother will be complete.