Love Is the Drug
A special round-up for everyone who is addicted to people.
Love is the drug. Back in 2023, we asked the Small Bow community to tell us about their experiences in Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous (SLAA) and Co-Dependents Anonymous (CoDA). Generous readers anonymously wrote in to describe the specific challenges of being addicted to something it’s arguably impossible to be completely sober from: other people.
Today, for no reason in particular (it’s Valentine’s Day; the reason is: it’s Valentine’s Day) we’re republishing some of our favorite submissions.
If the cost of a subscription is prohibitive, or if you wish to send TSB to someone you love, contact us. We’ll happily pass along a free annual subscription to those who need it most.
We can offer free subscriptions as long as we continue to grow. Grab a paid subscription today if you’d like to be a part of that growth — spiritually and otherwise. —TSB Editor
What It’s Like When Your Addiction Is Other People
Originally published September 12, 2023 (SLAA) and October 10, 2023 (CoDA)
The first and longest drug I’ve ever chased was the feeling of being in love and the concept of happily ever after I’d seen on TV and in movies.
I no longer go to SLAA meetings, but it was the first 12-step program I took seriously.
I joined because, once again, I had cheated on a long-term partner, blowing up her life and mine, and it’s when I realized that the first and longest drug I’ve ever chased was the feeling of being in love and the concept of happily ever after I’d seen on TV and in movies.
I’m 34 now. My first serious relationship was in the 4th grade, and since then, I can only really think of one year of my life I wasn’t in a committed monogamous relationship, and that was only because my self-esteem was too low to try. Since I was young, I followed the same pattern of assigning magical qualities to someone I barely knew, love bombing, making promises of marriage and children, and then abandoning my partner when the honeymoon feelings evaporated. Rinse and repeat.
When I read the Characteristics of Sex and Love Addiction, I felt properly diagnosed for the first time in my life. Few healthy boundaries? Check. Fear of emotional deprivation? Check. Confusing love with neediness, feeling empty and incomplete when alone, enslaved to romantic intrigue? Check, check, check.
SLAA taught me to look at love practically, to dare to find love within myself that I refused to find before and to realize that my actions in this department hurt others just as much, if not more, than my drug and alcohol use did. I’m in my first real healthy relationship, and a lot of the principles I’ve learned in SLAA are a big reason why.
*****
I think my self-esteem has always been so abysmally low that I never imagined anyone would want to be with me romantically, and I never trusted myself enough to establish boundaries or expectations for someone else for fear of losing them. So I give and give and give because why would I ever have a right to receive?
In my experience, codependency is when my heart writes checks that my brain can’t cash. Broadly speaking, my codependent behavior sacrifices my needs and wants in the interest of fulfilling other people’s needs and wants. I suppose it’s a more clinical way of saying ‘people-pleasing” — at least as I practice it. But it’s more ruinously unsustainable than that, particularly in romantic relationships. Those are where my codependency really flexes. For me, this can look like . . .
rarely/never taking time to consider my needs or how to account for them
ignoring the imperative for boundaries
enabling the negative or destructive habits of romantic partners who take advantage of my emotional and/or financial largesse
feeling like I can’t leave an exploitative relationship like those noted above, because I don’t deserve the respect of a balanced, reciprocal relationship
feeling like I can’t have a worthwhile life without a romantic partner, whatever the psychological toll that relationship imposes on me
trying to influence or control others’ behaviors and compulsions, as opposed to seeking/supporting healthy treatment
I know others’ codependency can extend to parents, children, siblings, close friends . . . I’m pretty good about boundaries with them, for some reason. I think my self-esteem has always been so abysmally low that I never imagined anyone would want to be with me romantically, and I never trusted myself enough to establish boundaries or expectations for someone else for fear of losing them. So I give and give and give because why would I ever have a right to receive?
*****
The pain that I’ve come to equate with love came from ME when I was a mess myself, and then upon me cleaning up my act, the search for the unhealthy yin to my now healthy(ish) yang.
I kicked off my SLAA studies in early July, after another disastrous relationship ending (with an app-trolling sex addict coke fiend) in a spree of trainwreck dating that ironically started when I first got sober from alcohol in late 2014. Over the last nine years, I have battled an enduring fetish for troubled, complicated men, people who ignite my savior fantasies, and what I’ve now learned to call my “romantic intrigue” addiction. The pain that I’ve come to equate with love came from ME when I was a mess myself, and then upon me cleaning up my act, the search for the unhealthy yin to my now healthy(ish) yang.
I read the first chapter of the SLAA book and felt a ton of relief to finally make the connection that the oil spill of my addict tendencies has now oozed its way into my love life. In general, I have an appetite for self-destruction that I’m trying to figure out . . . is it for a cheap thrill? Self-loathing? Al-Anon stuff? What’s scary to me is the realization that I might not even know what real love is or if I’m capable of it (whatever it is). My current solution for ending this chaos is three months of abstinence . . . from anything physical and anything that’s too heightened romantically so that I can let the need for my latest high (stomach-churning “love” ) exit my system. It’s been HARD. It’s not as hard as quitting nicotine, but it feels unnatural not to devote enormous amounts of my emotional energy to fixating on someone else's issues. Six weeks in . . . wish me luck.
*****
What is more codependent than going to AA meetings to help other people get sober or attempting to do their work for them? Or manipulating them with the guilt of my own healthy example? It’s up there on the codependency scale, I’m sure!
Looking back, I wonder if some of the AA meetings I went to in the early days of my sobriety from alcohol (as a listener only in AA, never to share my story or identify as being in recovery) were another way I’d focus on other people to avoid dealing with myself, specifically how much I struggled to set healthy boundaries around other people, especially people struggling with undiagnosed or untreated mental health disorders and substance use disorder. What is more codependent than going to AA meetings to help other people get sober or attempting to do their work for them? Or manipulating them with the guilt of my own healthy example? It’s up there on the codependency scale, I’m sure!
It’s a pretty dramatic story how I hit my rock bottom (abusive relationship, incapacitated by illness, loss of friends, business breakdown) before starting my recovery journey of “emotional sobriety” in CoDA, but what really sticks out to me now 18 months later is actually not the drama of the before times, but how universal that drama was across every kind of relationship I was in — family to friendships to work to romance to self — yet the thread between those dramas was so lost on me back then.
I finally had the ‘ah-ha’ style moments again and again once I got to CoDA, feeling as though I was listening to myself at every age of my life: past, present, and possibly my future, especially if I stayed emotionally unsober and ‘drunk’ on other people’s problems, which is where I used to feel useful and safe in relationships.
The stories I heard wowed me because they were me:
Childhood abuse? Got it. Emotionally immature and unavailable parent? Check. Divorce? Been there. This was really a place for me, regardless of how I judged myself for belonging there.
Today, my life is different in all the external ways, and in many cases, it is the inverse of before: loving, calm, kind, and steady. Most of my relationships are better: the okay ones got better or even great; the hard ones dissolved over time; new ones formed on solid ground. The near-constant grief I felt at first has subsided now, and it’s quieter in my head and heart than I ever could have imagined. I’m having fun again more than I ever did before, and I feel safe while I have all that fun that I still belong to myself, regardless of who I am with or their emotional state of being.
It’s been 3.5 years sober of alcohol and 18 months in recovery for codependency. All of these recovery behaviors have become more first nature now than second. Other people notice, and that reinforces the process I know. In some situations, I may be the only one who notices the process unfolding in me, which is enough to get me through, whereas before, I needed others to validate my internal experiences.
*****
Approval-seeking behaviors from authority figures, needing constant validation in romantic relationships, and yet a persistent belief that no one will ever truly love me for who I am. I hide my authentic self from everyone because I don’t like who I am on the inside or outside; at least, the rejection is easier when it’s based on something superficial.
The words spilled out of my mouth during a therapy session a few months back. Words that I was dreading opening my mouth to speak, to vocalize, to process, to acknowledge. Why now? Why, after almost 30 years of dating and relationships, 20 years of therapy, and years of wondering what is wrong with me?
“If I only show myself as a hypersexual person to men, then they won’t reject me for who I really am on the inside. If I pleasure them and am good at sex, then they will overlook my physical flaws.”
Speaking those two sentences was Pandora’s box exploding open, like a once-grand Vegas hotel being demolished. I immediately scribbled two sketches in my notebook:
Over the next few weeks, I cleaned up the demolition of this revelation and found more. Approval-seeking behaviors from authority figures, needing constant validation in romantic relationships, and yet a persistent belief that no one will ever truly love me for who I am. I hide my authentic self from everyone because I don’t like who I am on the inside or outside; at least, the rejection is easier when it’s based on something superficial.
I don’t know what sex or love means to me anymore.
*****
I learned that the only person I am truly responsible for is myself. I still struggle with this, but even having a name for my controlling thoughts has helped me so much.
I went to therapy for the first time back in 2018 to discuss all the frustrations I felt with my family. She helped me realize that I was extremely codependent, taking on everyone’s problems and feeling such a strong need to solve them (even when — especially when — they didn’t ask me to). This led to boundaries and emotional detachment from my family, mainly my sister. She was only 10.5 months older than me, so we were very close. Although I was younger, I always felt the need to protect her. I continued to distance myself from her, putting myself first, etc., and then, in March 2019, she unexpectedly passed away. I was furious — with myself, with my therapist, with my sister. Why did I pull away in the last few months that we would be together? Why didn’t I see her behavior as a sign that she wasn’t okay? I swore off therapy after this because having someone else to blame made it easier for me to cope.
My fiance and I met around this time. We had so much in common, but the biggest thing was our drinking. But because I could go a few days without drinking and he could not, his drinking became my newest avenue of codependency. No matter how many letters I wrote, the fights we had, or the ultimatums I didn’t stick to, nothing changed. I decided to give therapy another shot. This time, everything changed, even though we were both still drinking. I learned to walk away when needed, and began going to Al-Anon. There, I learned that the only person I am truly responsible for is myself. I still struggle with this, but even having a name for my controlling thoughts has helped me so much. I am also happy to say that my fiance and I are both seven months sober, and my life has truly never been better.
*****
If only my kids would do what I want them to do, they’d be happy. If only my career would go how I want it to, I’d feel good about myself. If only I had security in the fact that nobody in my family would ever suffer, I’d be calm.
In CoDA, Step 1 is “We admitted we were powerless over others — that our lives had become unmanageable.” My disease manifests itself as an attempt to use others as my sole source of identity, value, and wellbeing and as a way of trying to restore within myself the emotional losses from my childhood. Here’s a longitudinal list of the ways co-dependency has reared its ugly head throughout my life:
I sought approval from teachers who told me I was bright, and I felt horrible and embarrassed in the areas I struggled in.
I got in the ring with my dad, meeting his rage with my own and eliciting negative attention because it was the attention available. I stone-walled my mom because she pretended that fights didn’t happen and did not comfort me, or I believed, as told, that all the family problems were my fault.
I numbed out with food.
I joined all the sports, plays, and clubs and showcased my artistic abilities to receive approval from my parents and others.
I sought out the prettiest, thinnest, and most popular girls to be friends with and get acceptance from.
When friendship alliances were good, I made myself the listener, adviser, and solace giver to remain of value and receive approval. If there was discord, I did anything I could do to get back into good graces.
I dated a guy I was not attracted to because I got physical attention and thought I could not get it anywhere else. I knew other people would not think he was attractive or cool so I kept the relationship separate from my school friends.
When I didn’t have a boyfriend, I was certain I would be alone forever because I was not pretty or thin enough.
When I found a partner who loved me, I didn’t believe it and would incessantly push and prod for feedback and reassurance.
When his addiction reared its head, I felt that it was because of me. I vacillated between self-loathing and false pride about how he should feel and think.
I got a master’s degree to show that I was smart and good enough.
I fueled an art career through intense jealousy and envy. I wanted to beat others in my field and felt that when I had the best clients, I’d feel like I arrived. When I got high-caliber clients, the bar moved to a place I could never reach because it didn’t exist. I compared and despaired.
As a mother, I felt good about myself when my kids were happy and not struggling. I got enmeshed in their lives and tried to control what they did and how they thought. I felt good when I bragged about their talents, and they got validation from outside sources. I involved myself in the minutiae of their lives by questioning and advising their friendship dynamics and schoolwork. I used all my emotional bandwidth in martyrdom, then crashed and got irritable and impatient. I’d yell at them and reduce myself to their dysregulated level.
When things were going well, I clung and prayed for security. I imagined all the ways my family’s life could implode.
I lived in fear that my husband was going to die and that I could not survive without him.
I vacillated between obsessing about food, body, and macro-nutrients and trying to reach the lowest body weight for my height according to a chart. Then the pendulum swung, and I’d use food as a fix. Inevitably I’d have to contend with shame and self-loathing.
I considered myself a recovery imposter and struggled against the vicissitudes of life.
I ruminated about my tense relationship with my mother. I festered in resentment, self-pity, and validation-seeking. I tried to manipulate her into giving me what I felt I needed.
I fantasized about eviscerating my brother’s hypocrisy in proverbial court. When I let the relationship go, I ruminated about how I was bad for keeping my kids away from him and modeling a bad dynamic.
When freelance work got slow, I felt that I was washed up and small. When jobs came to me, I felt false pride. When I got approval on social media, I felt great. When engagement was low, I felt worthless.
I felt guilty about not having equal financial contributions because my husband made more money than me. I felt that domestic contributions didn’t count.
I felt like a ‘taker’ because my husband, in his recovery, could wholeheartedly give love and show up for us. Even if he told me I was beautiful and alluring, I’d rebuff it and protest it.
The list goes on and on.
In the BB, Chapter 5 tells me I’m the director trying to run this show. If only my kids would do what I want them to do, they’d be happy. If only my career would go how I want it to, I’d feel good about myself. If only I had security in the fact that nobody in my family would ever suffer, I’d be calm. I could forgive her if only my mom would validate my feelings and experiences. I thought I could “wrest satisfaction and happiness of this world” if I could bend it to my will. Through CoDA, I learned that I am powerless over my thinking. CoDA taught me ABC: “Action, Boundary, Consequence.” I do not have to fight or maintain a relationship that harms me. I can choose to pray for others who may be spiritually sick and suffering. I can use the tools of recovery to keep my side of the street clean. I can support and love my kids while allowing them to make mistakes and learn from them. I can take action to improve my career one day at a time. I can choose to take my husband’s love at face value. I don’t have to fear the future. I only get to do it today.
*****
SLAA is tricky because it can be unclear where the lines of sobriety are. Not drinking or doing drugs? Pretty straightforward — don’t do that! But people are fucking everywhere.
I started my first emotional affair when I was 19, I think. My boyfriend’s best friend and bandmate told me he was in love with me.
Honestly, I was having the time of my life — my two fave dudes in all the land? Both in love with ME!? A dream! Could it possibly fill the god-sized hole I didn’t yet know about? Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
It started long before all that, anyway. In grade one, I remember explicitly choosing to wear a turtleneck and leggings (lol) under my dress so that I could take off my dress in front of my crush during a specific play time. I was sitting in the passenger seat beside my friend’s dad, driving me home after a play date. I felt conscious of sitting exactly right — the tension was burning between us!! He knew how much more mature I was than everyone! He obviously had a crush on me. (More cool thinking for a 7-year-old.)
From there onward, I always thought I was just a “crush” person — video store crush, history class crush, one for all occasions and locations! Nice and fun to have a reason to live I MEAN WEAR A CUTE OUTFIT — whatever! This is one of many personality traits that I thought were “just me!” but it turns out were my disease.
I got married at 24 to a very, very good man (the boyfriend from above) who is kind and loves me so much. But I met the man who would turn out to be my qualifier seven years later. Believe me when I tell you, there is almost nothing significant about this person. Sure, he fits the pattern: a noted asshole, malnourished, a sentient floor lamp? Scummy yet intelligent and funny — but why him? It doesn’t matter, and I still don’t know. He gave me attention when I badly wanted it. Most of all, I liked presenting a version of myself to him. I’d learn this was a big part of my disease — let me custom select the stories, the outfit, the playlist.
I’d never been down so bad before — I’d get a full-body buzz when I saw his name on my phone, and then I’d take a screenshot of it. I feel nuts and embarrassed to admit that now. When I described some of this insanity (happening in and around my allegedly happy marriage) to a friend with experience in all these programs, she recommended I check out an SLAA meeting. At my first one, someone shared how they were seeking validation from others, but it would never be enough because they couldn’t validate themselves, and, damn. Doesn’t the most obvious stuff hit the hardest?
SLAA is tricky because it can be unclear where the lines of sobriety are. Not drinking or doing drugs? Pretty straightforward — don’t do that! But people are fucking everywhere. We have to interact with them and want to do so soberly. This is why SLAA members measure our sobriety via “bottom lines” — everyone’s is different. One of my main bottom lines is I DO NOT ABANDON MYSELF. This is hard to quantify, but for me, it’s helpful to think about it as protecting my inner child. What situations must I avoid putting her in? I am also not to have dates longer than 3 hours when I first meet someone, nor to search for my qualifier on social media.
Much of my acting out has been done online — posting a thirst trap and then feverishly checking the views until crushes 1 through 6 have seen it. And then what? Is that enough? Of course not.
I filled out a step-work worksheet once, and the thing I circled that I’d lost because of my disease was not as concrete as jobs, home, and partners, but it was still a big one: my dignity.
Not long after separating from my husband (difficult, amicable, reconciliation still possible), I was invited to give my first lead share. It was difficult because I opted to put on “A SHOW!” instead of a share, but I got through it.
Sober dating is a bitch. A fellow once told me, “It’s like telling an alcoholic to have just one beer.” We need people and connection, but connecting can be a sobriety risk. Suppose I describe something obsessive I’m doing or a thought I’m having. In that case, friends will say, “Oh, that’s fine, that’s normal,” but, as with alcohol, what’s “normal” for others can be dangerous for me.
When I’m being ornery about the program, I get hung up on all the paradoxes and apparent contradictions: “Be strong and tough on your bottom lines, yet also be gentle and compassionate with yourself.” Nice try, asshole! That makes no sense!
But I try to remember that with an addict brain, I am partial to extremes. I have to be wary of black-and-white thinking and simultaneously allow both things to be true. That’s what emotional maturity means to me: I can take responsibility for my behavior and trust my higher power to have my back.
ALL ILLUSTRATIONS BY EDITH ZIMMERMAN
READ ALL THE ORIGINAL SUBMISSIONS:
What It's Like To Be in Recovery for Codependency
*****
ZOOM MEETING SCHEDULE
Monday: 5:30 p.m. PT/8:30 ET
Wednesday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET
Thursday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET (Women and non-binary meeting.)
Friday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET and 4 p.m. PT/7 p.m. ET
Saturday: Mental Health Focus (Peer support for bipolar/anxiety/depression) 9:30 a.m. PT/12:30 p.m. ET
Sunday: (Mental Health and Sobriety Support Group.) 1:00 p.m PT/4 p.m. ET
*****
If you don’t feel comfortable calling yourself an “alcoholic,” that’s fine. If you have issues with sex, food, drugs, codependency, love, loneliness, and/or depression, come on in. Newcomers are especially welcome.
FORMAT: CROSSTALK, TOPIC MEETING
We’re there for an hour, sometimes more. We’d love to have you.
Meeting ID: 874 2568 6609
PASSWORD TO ZOOM: nickfoles
Need more info?: ajd@thesmallbow.com
This is The Small Bow newsletter. It is mainly written and edited by A.J. Daulerio. And Edith Zimmerman always illustrates it. We send it out every Tuesday and Friday.
You can also get a Sunday issue for $9 monthly or $60 annually. The Sunday issue is a recovery bonanza full of gratitude lists, a study guide to my daily recovery routines, a poem I like, the TSB Spotify playlist, and more exclusive essays. You also get commenting privileges!
Other ways you can help:
BUY A COFFEE MUG FOR YOUR BOOKS
TSB merch is a good thing. [STORE]
Or you can support Edith directly!
Demon With Watering Can Greeting Cards [Edith’s Store]
Or…
or you can give a
that goes toward the production of the podcast.
Everything helps.
A POEM ON THE WAY OUT:
Sonnets—Actualities XXIV
by e.e. cummings
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric fur,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh....And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
*****
