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The Elephant in the Room

January 15, 2011

The Elephant in my room is huge. He wears a mask made of jet black beads that hang over his big bambi eyes, and that makes a soft clacking noise as he swings his trunk so even when I have my eyes shut, I can hear him. This elephant is called addiction and he follows me around from my bedroom to my living room. I pretend I can’t see or hear his groans as he sniffs out anything he can use, nicotine, sugar, alcohol. Anything to pacify the monkey that sits on the elephant’s shoulder…

So it is. I pretend or rather WE pretend, me and MB that some of the scratchy bits in our relationship are our ‘differences’ or that I want this and he wants that. And, it might be true, we are different and sometimes that is a problem. BUT, I can’t ignore the elephant.  Will he ever leave?

I don’t think so. MB doesn’t want him to, and sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking I see him feeding the elephant, soothing him and giving him what he wants. He’s not going anytime soon, not when he is being so well looked after. Guess I’d better get used to it.

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