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On the Floor of the Shower
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He walked out the door, and she felt as if her entire stomach had been ripped out.
She felt a sudden NEED for a shower , so she ran a hot one, took off all her clothing, and stood under the fabulous fall of strong hot water.

Hell – she thought to herself – im gonna wash that man not only right out of my hair, but out of my entire body and life…enough of this torture,enough! it was at this point that she collapsed to the floor of the shower stall , huddled up in the corner opposite the flow of water, and just sat there with her tears washing her as thoroughly as the falling water. She sobbed and sobbed, keening at the loss of yet another person she had come to love and depend on. Love? Well, she wasn’t so sure of that…need, for absolute sure…but love? Right now she hated him as much as she ever felt affection for him, and so far as she was concerned, he could drop dead in his tracks and she wouldn’t feel anything but happy revenge.

It was also at this moment -under the hot flood of soothing cleansing water – that she realized she was in deep trouble and that she needed to seek help as far as love and intimate relationships were concerned, so she finally peeled herself off the shower stall floor ,dried off, cuddled up under her voluminous bed covers, and started researching who and where she could turn to for help.
Her idea of love felt dangerously close to what few notions she had about addiction, so she wandered over to the online source for 12-step programs, and it was there she found what she needed: CODA….Co-dependents Anonymous….there was actually a group called that , and it seemed to hold meetings all over the City. She zeroed in on a couple in her very neighborhood, and the next day, slogged herself out of her bed of suffering and sadness and got herself to her first meeting.

it was at these meetings that her life began to change…that she began to know herself better…that she recognized what she needed to do to make this vital correction in her life: loving herself, taking care of her SELF, rather running to others to fix it all for her.

Addiction is cheek to jowl with death…an addict dies a thousand times until he or she learns ro take proper care of the self that has been so injured, so frightened, all their life…and the best thing? She learned she was not alone. the rooms she attended were filled with men and women in the throes of healing, as she herself needed to heal, and this was a strength and a comfort to her, as she grew into a kind of maturity, a sort of responsibility-taking, she’d avoided all her life.

Slowly, day by day and month by month, the enormous void shed always felt inside her began to be filled with forgiveness and a kind of love shed never known: a true love of Self. She felt a core strengthening that would keep her upright and ready for a proper sort of intimacy for the rest of her days.

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