I’m Anna. I’m an Addict.

No, I don’t have a “disorder.” I’m just adapting, as I can, to a sick society.

Photo by Luka Malic on Unsplash

I have a confession to make, followers. After writing so eloquently about my paths to quitting various addictions, I write this while smoking a cigarette.

My desire to smoke disappeared for over a year. It returned earlier this year, while I was living in a bus and traveling with my partner at the time. Though that partner remains someone I love dearly, our relationship was not good. It never had been, and we kept doubling down on it in an effort to make our love for one another mean something tangible in our personal quests for connection, purpose and meaning.

But connection — that was the hard part. We’re just so different, he and I, and communicating and relating in ways that made us each feel connected, seen and understood continued to verge on impossible. Add to that our isolation and codependence, living in a vehicle on the physical and social edges of human community, and the tension in my throat grew so strong that the only conceivable answer I could find was to insist we pull into a gas station one day so I could buy a pack of American Spirits.

We were both ex-smokers, and we both started smoking again. It seemed we did better with the cigarettes. We were both easier to get along with…