Addiction

Should you find yourself interested in the technical distinction between addiction and compulsion, there's a nice article to be found here.  Unless you're a medical or mental health professional, you probably just pretty much lump the two together and simply base your definition of "addiction" on the behavior resulting from either condition.  I know I usually do.

And why am I telling you this?  Oh my gawd, she's getting up on her soapbox again! you may be thinking right about now.  Relax.  I'm not going to sit here and expound on the evils of such things as nicotine or street drugs.  I could, but that'd make me a bit of a hypocrite, seeing as how I'm a confirmed user of both caffeine and alcohol.  (A responsible user, but a user nonetheless.)  So I'm not going to lecture you.

I'm going to confess....

They say confession is good for the soul.  And they say that the first step in overcoming an addiction is admitting that you have a problem.  (And just who are "they" anyway?  Does anyone even know?)

Maybe by going public, I can help prevent some other poor soul from going through the torment themselves, so I'm going to say it: I'm an addict.

It first began many years ago.  Like most such addictions, it started innocently enough with occasional, recreational use.  I was convinced that I wouldn't get hooked, oh, no, not me, I'm too smart, I'd never let that happen.  Then it turned into a habit before I even realized what was happening.  The habit started growing and taking over.  It affected my life in small ways at first, but eventually my family and friends noticed that something had changed, that I was behaving differently.  I was sure I could still control it.  I even stopped for months at a time, but then the urge to indulge would grow into an relentless compulsion I could no longer resist.

I should have known what would happen, that I'd eventually find myself neglecting my family while I fed the monkey on my back; hiding evidence; staying up late or arising early so I could indulge without my husband noticing I'd backslid; lying in bed, staring into the darkness, fighting the urge to go take a quick "hit"; stashing my "stash" anywhere I could.  

Oh, yes, I've indulged my habit, both in alone and in the company of other addicts.  Friends have supplied me with the stuff when I'd run short, and I have to come clean and admit that I've also supplied others.  I've rushed home after work to get my fix.  Much to my shame, I've even occasionally indulged at work when the opportunity presented itself.

But now it's taken over my life and I must deal with the situation before I degenerate into a hopeless wreck whose only hope of salvation lies in professional treatment.  (Although in all honesty it may already be too late.)

And what is this life-altering, all-consuming addiction of which I speak?

I'm a recipe junkie.

Yes, folks, it's true.  The evidence is everywhere.  I have cookbooks and carefully-written recipe cards and hastily scribbled ingredient lists with shorthand directions stashed all over the house.  Several years ago my sweet, considerate, and long-suffering husband built a wall of floor-to-ceiling bookcases for me, in hopes of containing and controlling the expanding collection.  (Have I told you lately how much I love you, Athos?)  We thought that surely 100 linear feet or so of shelving would be sufficient for the job.  Well, those are now close to exploding at the seams and bookcases in two bedrooms have also been taken over by this monster I've created.  I've lost count of the number of boxes and storage totes I have stashed, which house recipes torn from magazines (my own; I've never stooped to stealing pages from publications in waiting rooms or the library!), hardcopies of ones I've found on the 'net, photocopied pages from cookbooks, etc.  The recipes stored on my laptop have overflowed several times onto a startling number of CD-Rs and ZIP disks.  Even more reside on a second computer and three external hard drives.  I belong to recipe lists I don't even have time to read, so I just store the posts away "until I have time" to read and file them.  (We're talking 10-plus years' worth of backlogged posts to wade through "when I have time", and if that's not scary, what is?)

My gawd, I really am addicted, aren't I?  I wonder if there's a 12-step program available for recipe-aholics....