Endigar 820 ~ The Death of Redrum Inkwell in the Sacred Grove

I imagine my addiction as a vine that wraps around a pole and uses its strength to climb, to intertwine with its surrounding and then to bare toxic fruit for myself and those I love.

The pole is a legitimate goal or pursuit. When it is embraced by the vine it is difficult to tell the two apart. The pole that my addiction finds greatest success in hijacking is my pursuit of happiness and satisfaction in the written word.

A little while back I discovered that Stephen King is a recovered alcoholic and addict. I read that there are writings such as “Christine” that he did not remember writing because it was a blur of chemical oblivion. His family and friends finally staged an intervention in the late 80’s.

My recovery applauded. My addiction looked at the work he did prior to his recovery. And then it whispered in my ear, “What about field testing that possibility? My recovery became the little boy with the Shining desperately repeating “Red Rum! Red Rum! Red Rum!” That message was only understood when I looked in the mirror.

“Murder all that you are.”

“Murder all that you love.”

“Murder all that could have been useful to others who struggle.”

So, I remove the vine and the pole and plant instead an oak sapling. It is slower but stronger. There can be no more quick and easy vines to tend. It is a long road and I cannot shy away from the pain in the journey. This is and always has been the beginning of my Sacred Grove.

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