Addicted

A Story by Cherry

Although the risks that come from an internet addiction are few and far between compared to other addictions, the risks are still there. Also, if you or someone you love is suffering, please get help

Addiction is something you’ve heard about or maybe experienced for yourself. It comes in many forms: drugs, alcohol, sex, food, video games; the list goes on and on. I have seen family and friends struggle with addiction and my biological father passed away after a long struggle to get “clean” as they say. I never thought it would’ve happened to me. However minor my addiction may seem, I cheated, lied, and caused my family to suffer all the same.

I found myself addicted at the age of fifteen. My drug of choice? Online chat rooms. The internet was my dealer, the monitor my stash, and the keyboard and mouse were the needle in my veins. A simple form of communication became my only form, transforming me from a once bubbly outgoing pleasant little girl to a reclusive, devious, angry young woman. My innocence faded with every keystroke. It felt impossible to escape. My drug was the only thing I looked forward to during the day; that extra five or six hours, sometimes more, in which I could be whoever I wanted to be.

Life outside the monitor was bleak and miserable. Every day seemed more unbearable than the last with siblings that were cruel, parents that were blind and deaf to my struggles, so few friends, and an undesirable self-image. I struggled with making life work in my favor.

School was a torment, just another place I didn’t want to be, with bullies lurking and another teenage crisis just around the corner. Coping with a childhood infected with abuse and a sense of fault drilled into my head denying me the peace achieved by just telling someone of my torment for nearly 10 years: well past statute of limitations for the crime. Siblings would find different and creative ways to make me feel like I was nothing. Being a fat girl in a house of boys is a nightmare, with pig and cow and elephant noises shouted at you as soon as you’re spotted, impact noises boomed at you when you walk as if each step weighs a thousand pounds, and the occasional surprise and unsolicited slap or punch. Being outnumbered made it impossible to even try to fight back. Nowhere felt safe, nowhere but my digital domicile.

The internet was my lover, my mistress, my muse. When I was bullied she was there to cradle my hand with her mouse, when I dealt with rejection she accepted me, or relationship troubles, she always knew what to say. However, I was sacrificing more to her than she was willing to give in return: going days without sleep, losing what little friends I had, letting my grades slip. She was becoming cruel and unbearable as well, so I needed to give her up; break up with my hyperspace honey.

Daunting efforts were made to bring my grades up and I tried to spend more time with friends. Family time was always complicated but I tried anyways. Everything else was put into working towards a future where I didn't rely on her, but her boundless love kept calling me back.

In 2013, I was 21-years-old and kicking myself for making the same mistakes that I was making at 15-years-old. Life was bleak and miserable again when I had a job I no longer loved, friends that were flakey, an empty apartment to go home to, and nothing better to do than waste my time by talking to strangers. All I ever wanted was to feel a connection, get that satisfaction that comes from a quick fix. The rush I got from the ‘ping’ my phone would make was enough to make me smile. They weren’t always healthy conversations, or nice, or impacting in any way, but they were mine.

However, my mistress of media played matchmaker this time around and set me up with a reasonable man. We’ve been together for 7(almost 8) years now. We have an incredible child who is smart and loving and wonderful and kind. The missus and I still have infrequent interactions when I’m feeling conversationally starved but no further dalliances or all-nighters spent by the glow of my monitor. Even popular social media hasn’t peaked my interest in the slightest in over 3 years.

Though some are minor, addiction has the power to tear people’s lives apart as well as the lives of the people around them. My dependence on her may have had a happy ending so far but not all of them do. If you find yourself in the vice grip of addiction, please get help. If you’re a victim of abuse, you’re not alone, it is not your fault, you don’t have to keep suffering. Someone will always help.

The site HealthyPlace has a list of crisis contacts and helplines.