Addiction came late in life, really.  Escaping began by the time I was 3 or 4 I think.  And many years later I grow to realize that there really is no escape.  Perhaps after death, but the way Nature shows it, it’s just a neverending cycle, so I doubt it.

Listening to the unending despair of those trying to escape feelings, duties, life, worries, heartache, boredom to no avail reminds me that the long way around of escape is still a useless detour to the same spot.  I can’t avoid feelings.  I can’t get away from the urge to change my whole life, and the subconscious (or conscious) desire for the so-called “final” escape of death doesn’t seem promising.

So I put on the hipboots, get my tools strapped on and gloves handy and trudge through the feelings.

One of those helpful hands is yours.  You reading this–the story of you reading this–that I am not alone is essential.  Actually, I have to speak, write and listen to me and I open my heart to the Divine Oneness, the Creator, the Dear Lady to reinforce in me that I am never alone.  Sometimes she dresses up as a mentor, a friend, a partner, a child, and sometimes she is in the leaves of the bush that gently waves at me in the September sun.

Thank godness that I am never alone and need no escape from She who is closer to me than my skin.