Sometimes we get hooked on things that can have a disastrous effect on our lives. What can we do to free ourselves from our obsession?

 

Seeking help may be hard for us to do. Yet it may be the right road to travel, when we’ve become a . . .

 

 

Drug Attic

 

“Hello, my name is Alicia Drummond and I’ve been a drug attic

     for over seven years.

I’m here this evening because I mustered up the courage

     and finally overcame my fears.”

 

“Thank you, Alicia, for standing before us and putting your attiction

     on display.

Your strength is admirable and those of us who share your problem

     are anxious to hear what you have to say.”

 

“You’re very welcome, as this is not an easy thing for me to do,

     for I’m a quiet person and self-absorbed, too.”

“Alicia, we all have experienced your fears and concerns, as we’ve

     dealt with our own attiction and tried to figure out what to do.

 

“At this time, I would like you to outline how you’ve traveled down

     the somewhat confusing attiction road.”

“I’ll try the best I can to do, but I’m a mess and have made buys

     on the street and, at times, I feel like I’m going to explode.”

 

“Please stay calm, as we are your friends and supporters,

     and will not make judgments about what you say.”

“All right, I will take you back in time, seven and a half years

     to be exact, and illustrate how I had to get high to fulfill

     my attiction, in my way.

 

“The first buy I made was small, but my husband, George,

     couldn’t cope with it.

He told me to put it where he couldn’t see it, so I got as high

     as I could in the house, stared at my purchase, and knew

     I couldn’t quit.

 

“I had to hide my curse from George and others, so I drug myself

     high up to my loft, day after day, to cover-up my terrible affliction.

My disease got worse and worse as the months passed

     and my purchases got larger and I’d fall deeper into attiction.

 

“It got so crazy that I was totally out of control and was draining

     our bank account to feed my troubled soul.

I drug myself and my precious buys most every day up to the high

     place, where I felt safe and under control.

 

“I need your help, as my life is falling apart in a way that’s hard to explain.

My purchases—tables, chairs, statues, and other furniture I don’t need,

     have caused my husband and me considerable pain. 

 

“I still drag my illicit buys up high to the attic atop my house in the hopes 

     of not being discovered.

Life bewilders me in a way I can’t believe and I hope from my attiction,

     with your help, I soon will be recovered.”

 

Thank you. 

 

 

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