October 20

Dear You,

I don’t have to send you the stuff if you don’t want me to, but I’ve been around, and knowing what you’re going through, I thought you’d like them. Remember, I really care. But if you want me to stop, I will.

Yours, Addiction

October 26

Dear Addiction,

Well. I didn’t say to stop sending the stuff. Just, you know, not such intense stuff. And not so often.

Thanks, Me

November 4

Dear You,

You got it. Meanwhile, here’s some stuff to keep you going for a while. I’ll send you more automatically so you never have to reach out. I’ll handle everything, because I really care.

Yours, Addiction

November 20 (unsent)

Dear Addiction,

I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I guess you were right. You really do know what’s going on inside me. I want the films. I want the drugs. I want the booze. I’m not sure why. It does something to me that I can’t explain but it’s not something bad. And I want that feeling. I want the high that it gives, and I’ve found that what you sent isn’t really working. But I don’t want to ask for more. I can’t ask for more. I feel disgusted at myself for asking. Maybe soon. 

I’m good for now, but I guess we’ll see.

Me

December 22

Dear Addiction,

Okay, I guess you can send more stuff. It doesn’t seem to be working the way it used to.

But not the super intense ones, you know?

Thanks,

Me

January 3

Dear You,

Hey, do I know my customers? Here are a few new drugs to try out, and I’ll send the latest movies soon.

I have it all, okay? Just let me know what you’re interested in, and I’ll send them over.

Yours, Addiction

February 13 (unsent) 

Dear Addiction,

I’m only writing this (draft) to you because no one else will read it. Because if they do, I’ll be sent out of the community. I can’t become un-Jewish, but I could be sent to the wilderness. It’s horrible. 

I feel like I don’t belong. I feel like everyone is looking at me like I’m a faker, like they can see my disgusting actions behind my facade. 

Yiddishkeit doesn’t make sense, because everyone is supposed to love each other, not look down upon others before getting to know them. Isn’t our policy innocent until proven guilty?

I’m guilty, by all means, but don’t judge me. I told someone about my struggles and the response was, “You’re worse than the goyim, because that’s their lifestyle. But you’re the holiest of holies and now you’re rolling in the mud.”

Every day we’re commanded not to let our eyes and hearts stray. Mine do. How can I lie every day, to myself, to G-d, to my family? 

Me

February 14

Dear You,

It’s been a while since I heard from you. Are you okay?

Yours, Addiction

February 20

Dear Addiction,

Don’t. Just don’t. I don’t want another ball to juggle. Or do I? Whatever. I give up. 

Me

March 3

Dear You,

I’m sure you want it, deep down. You know how it helps you cope, how it makes you feel better.

And if it doesn’t, let me know, and I’ll send more until it kicks in. You’re in good hands.

Yours, Addiction

March 12

Dear Addiction,

You are killing my life right now. 

My family is falling apart because I’m not the good girl they thought I was. I changed so much that my parents have no idea who I am. I haven’t told them anything yet, but they noticed, and it’s affecting everyone. The few friends that I have turned away from me, unsure if I’m the person they know or not. And my boss is telling me to find opportunities elsewhere because I’ve been coming in too late due to hangovers. 

I can’t take it anymore. Get out of my life.

Me 

March 21

Dear You,

I guess it’s not easy, being friends with me. I cast everyone else aside and just fixate on you, regardless of what happens or what I cause. I see I’m a bit reckless, and I’m really sorry. If you really want to get rid of me, you can. I’m waiting, ready for your command.

Yours, Addiction

March 30 (unsent)

Dear Addiction,

You won’t be reading this because I won’t send it, but I need to get this off my chest. I’m depressed. Unofficially, though, I’m too broke to get a real therapist, and my family cannot know about this so I can’t get help from them. Are you happy that my life is completely upside down and inside out and ripping at the seams?

I’m the biggest loser in the world. I’m worse than the people on the streets because if you fall from step two, it’s not so bad, you might just get a scrape. But if you fall from a one-story building, you can really get hurt, even killed.

I’m the child of Hashem, so I’m the highest you can be (no pun intended. Ha, ha.), and I’ve fallen so low.

I’m sure Hashem hates me. I’m not worthy of love. I’m not worthy of anything.

Maybe I just quit while I’m ahead before it gets worse. Whatever. No one loves me anyway.

Me 

April 17 (unsent)

Dear Addiction,

You know, I’ve been thinking, at this point, life doesn’t make sense. You don’t make sense. I just have no idea what to do. I’m trying to stop, I really am, but then I want more.

My brain is so confused because it wants more, it needs more, and then my heart is crying out that I should stop. I want to stop. But I want to continue.

I know there is a hole inside me. I need to fill this void with whatever I can. It’s like quicksand — either way, you get sucked in, but panicking makes it worse. So should I just not do anything and get sucked in slowly? Or should I make the end of my life go quickly and be done?

I feel like those commercials where the person is depressed and they hold a really pathetic paper mask that has a smiley face on it but behind it, they’re really sad. That’s me. And my mask is so perfect that no one knows.

I’ll never be happy because I’m too used to this fake happiness, this fake love.

Ugh.

Me

April 22

Dear Addiction,

I want out. I want to unsubscribe. I want to delete the past few months and start over. Save my friendships, save my job. Find love in my family again.

I’m lost and alone and scared. Outwardly, I’m dressed like a regular frum person, but I feel like I’m faking everyone. I can’t keep this up — being all “normal” on the outside and begging for this dirt on the inside.

We’re done.

Me 

April 31

Dear You,

Just want to make sure — are you sure you want to be done? Because you know I’m your friend and that I really care about you.

Yours,

Addiction

May 12

Dear Addiction,

YES! Wait. No… I don’t know. I want my life to go back to the way it used to be, but honestly, right now I could use some of the stuff you’ve sent me. I want that numbness, that feeling of tuning out the world and drowning my problems in drinks or pills or filth. 

I can’t believe I’m writing this, after all that’s happened, but I don’t want you to go. Not yet. I don’t want to be alone again. I don’t know how to be alone with myself and look into my own eyes and see everything I’ve done reflected in the windows of my soul. I’m afraid of what will happen. I’m afraid of going to Gehinnom, of what Hashem is thinking of me.

I’m scared, okay? I’m so scared of the future, now that the past has fallen apart. I hate you and I love you and I need you. And I hate that I need you, but I do. For now, at least.

Me

May 24

Dear You,

Hey, it’s okay. I get it. You’re going through a lot and need time to process all this. And because I really care, I’m sending a lot more doses to keep you calm, of course.

I’ve got some good drugs and top-notch alcohol and other stuff, too, just in case. Enjoy!

Yours, Addiction

June 15

Dear Addiction,

Ugh. Thanks. I hope I don’t have to use this, but my boss just fired me because I’ve been barely coming to work. Too busy with the stuff you sent me. Coming late and leaving early. 

Yeah, I could use this stuff. 

Ew. Honestly, I used to hate wine but now I crave it. I despised drugs because they messed up your brain. Now they don’t seem so bad. I was the type to get disgusted by filthy videos, but now I see everything, no problem.

What happened to me? Who am I?

Me

July 1

Dear You,

I have a lot of experience with this. It’s common for people to feel lost or confused about themselves during this time — you’re doing things that you’ve never done before. But that’s expected. And it’s okay. Didn’t your parents always tell you to try new things, to do new things in life?

See? I got your back, especially when no one else does. No one is taking care of you like I am. We’ll get through this together. I’m giving you some more for when you need them.

Yours, Addiction

July 29 (unsent)

Dear Addiction,

I can’t take the withdrawal. My hands are shaking. I can’t sleep or eat. I’ve lost weight from this, and I look like someone who belongs in an intense rehab. I belong in rehab. I give up. After all, how much worse can they be than this pain, this hell? But you know what? I think I’d still rather have this so-called bliss now than have the pain of withdrawal. The odds are against me anyway so I might as well give in and enjoy it while I can.

Me

August 11

Dear Addiction,

Um. I don’t want to ask. I feel super awkward but, um. Can I have some more? Just a bit, you know? Not that I need you, of course. A last hurrah.

Thanks, Me

August 20

Dear You,

Sure! I’ve put together a goody bag for you. Just one more time, of course. Because you know I care.

Yours, Addiction

September 8

Dear Addiction,

Um. Awkward question. Can I have more? I accidentally used it all up too quickly. Sorry. I just really need it now, you know?

Thanks, Me

September 17

Dear You,

You know by now that I have everything you could ever need. And you know that I don’t charge anything… I’m here for you, my friend.

Yours, Addiction

October 16 (unsent) 

Dear Addiction,

I decided I’m done with this. I’m going to pull myself together. I looked at myself in the mirror and I can’t continue like this. My family knows. I don’t like that they know but they do. I’m going clean. I’m stopping. This is over.

Me

November 25

Dear Addiction,

It’s been a while, but I want to stop. For real. For good. I’m going to try and put my life back together, and I need out. Goodbye.

Me 

December 4

Dear You,

Are you sure? I included a small goody bag for you, free of charge.

Yours,

Addiction

December 12

Dear Addiction,

I said stop, okay? Stop contacting me. I need you to get out of my life. For good.

Me

December 23

Dear You,

No problem, I can get out of your life, but I’m not sure you want me to. Meanwhile, I’ll send you a few things to help you, just to tide you over.

Yours, Addiction

January 8

Dear Addiction,

No more. Please. Can’t you see that I’m trying to turn my life around, trying to become better?

I don’t want this, not anymore. 

Me

January 15

Dear You,

Do you really think you can get through this? That you can live a good life after all that you’ve done?

How can you pretend that this never happened? Deny the nights you were so drunk that you had no idea where you were? Ignore the fact that you’ve been using so much your brain is fried? Forget the images that constantly replay in your head? How can you look into the eyes of those you love, knowing all that you’ve done? Do you think you can put this all aside?

You can’t.

Yours, Addiction

January 25

Dear Addiction,

This is not true. I will fight you. Until the day I die. 

Me 

January 31

Dear You,

Those are pretty words coming from someone who is shaking and sweating from withdrawal. Are you sure you can get rid of me forever when your body is missing me after just a few days? Here’s a few surprises to test your self-control. Let’s see if you can make it.

Yours, Addiction

February 9

Dear Addiction,

You’re wrong about me.

My hands are shaking right now, as I write this letter. The words are all blurry from my tears.
I won’t deny all the things I’ve done. I’m not trying to forget it. I owned up to it. To myself and others. I’ve told people about my struggles. And you know? They’ve been helping me. 

Now that they know about my struggles, they’ve been supporting me, loving me through it all. 

My friends want me to get better. I’m talking to a rabbi and a therapist. I’m on my way back to myself. I’m winning.

Me 

February 20

Dear You,

Aren’t you missing me? I sent you some stuff because I miss you.

Yours, Addiction

March 7

Dear Addiction, 

Stop. Please. Look at me right now. I’m in a stable job. I’m actually accomplishing things. I’m doing better than ever. I told my family to throw out anything from you before it even gets to me. Yes, I have scars. But they’re battle scars, and those who love me see those marks as something powerful and empowering. I’m not afraid of you anymore. I’m not a coward, hiding from my life behind you, inside bottles or fake prescriptions or schmutz. I don’t need to run to you to get numb or high or lost.

I’m learning how to cope in a healthy way. I’m a soldier now, and you’re fighting a losing battle.

Me 

 March 29 (unsent)

Dear Addiction,

I’m only writing this letter because I have no one else to talk to about this. I don’t want to be in touch with you anymore, but I need to tell someone. I’m so angry at myself. I’m angry at Hashem for putting this in front of me and giving me this challenge. How was I not supposed to fall? But now, I hate myself so much. I don’t deserve my family, who only sees me as a good person. If they knew who I truly was, oh boy, I’d be kicked out. I want to kill this pain inside me, even if I have to hurt myself to do so. I don’t know who I am. I don’t belong in this world, with all the terrible things I’ve done.

Me

April 19

Dear Addiction,

No. I did not enjoy the gift. I fell, okay? Are you happy now?

Me

April 25

Dear You,

Yes. I am happy. Because I’m right. Perhaps you’re a soldier, but you’re the new recruit, and you have no idea about the true cost of war. You’re on the wrong side, my friend.

Yours, Addiction

May 3

Dear Addiction,

I’ve fallen but I’m still fighting. Every day is a fight, especially when your “gifts” surprise me. But I’m learning, and my tactics and defenses are changing.

I’m not backing down. 

Me 

October 14

Dear Addiction,

It’s been some time since we were in touch. Months, in fact. I just want to let you know that at least for now, I’ve won the battle. Despite the packages you sent and the sneak attacks and all the ways you tried to get me to fall, I stayed strong. I don’t even open your “gifts” or surprises or whatever. They’re out the door before they even try to get me down. You wouldn’t believe it, but I haven’t drunk in months, haven’t taken pills or watched anything. 

I’m clean.

My life may not be perfect, but it’s beautiful, and it’s mine. I see how far I’ve come, how I built my life back up after having it crushed. I wish I could say that it’s been nice knowing you, but I cannot lie anymore. Not to you and not to myself.

That’s it. We’re over. We’re in the past now. Go torture someone else.

Me

October 31

Dear You,

What can I tell you? I wish you a lot of luck, and honestly, I’m happy for you. Didn’t I always tell you I’m the one that cares most? So long, good luck, and if you ever need me again, just remember that I’m just around the corner.

Yours, Addiction

March 18

Dear Addiction,

It’s been a long time since I heard from you. Years, by now. I’m still clean, thank you for asking. I’m still strong. Every day is a fight, some more challenging than the others, and every day is a new chance to not give in. 

I remember the days when just getting out of bed was a challenge. I remember the things you used to taunt me with, knowing exactly when I was weak, the moments I needed it. And I remember the struggle, the temptation to throw your gift away without opening your package to see what you’d be giving me this time. 

But I did it.

Sometimes the withdrawal was so painful, I had to shower a few times a day just to get rid of the cold sweat. I remember telling my parents about it. That itself was probably the hardest part about you, Addiction. 

My parents saw me as the golden child, the perfect one, the eldest who could do no wrong. But then it all came crumbling down.

Who was I to be successful, to carry on the family name when the things I’d done would have put our name six feet under? 

But you know, the first step to all of this was admitting it to myself. I mean, yeah, I knew it was a struggle, I knew it was something that was affecting my life.

But addiction?

I told myself that I was not some crackpot, living on the streets, talking nonsense and spending my last penny on drugs. So I didn’t really have a problem. 

I did, of course — and I wasn’t so far from all that, either. 

And then, with Hashem’s help, the stark reality hit me, and I started seeing things for what they truly were — the drugs were smoke and mirrors, trying to get me to see flowers in weeds, gowns from rags. The drink was supposed to make me happy but the hangover was worse than the ecstasy. The videos were poison, pain mocking pleasure. 

My pride and ego were keeping me too high up to see how low I was.

But then I hit rock bottom.

It sounds cliche, I know, but there are no other words to explain it. There was nothing else I could do — I was too low from being too high.

So I picked myself up. Piece by piece, stitching and gluing and fixing and tightening all the broken pieces of my life and heart, trying to put it back together. For a while I was ugly — the ruined, broken, mismatched parts of me taking all the attention away from my true beauty.

And now, look at me. I carry my past, unashamed and unafraid, able to look at myself without cringing or turning away. I look at myself in the mirror and can hold my own gaze. I see the scars that remain, everyone sees them, and that’s okay.

Scars make us beautiful. 

I found a job. Someone took a gamble on me, and I haven’t let that person down. 

I’m such a different person than I was. So I want to thank you. 

It sounds weird to thank you, after the hell that you put me through. But you know what?

I would not have been the person I am today without this. 

It’s been a huge roller coaster of ups and downs, twists and turns. But I’m not in control, I’m not the driver.

I was an innocent child when you sought me out, and I fell for your tricks. I fell right into your hands exactly the way you wanted me to. And yet, I fought my way out of your clutches, tooth and nail, blood, sweat, and tears.

You know the story about the caterpillar? A man saw a butterfly struggling to get out of its cocoon. In his naive mercy, he gently slit the cocoon open so that the butterfly could be free. However, once out of its home, the butterfly couldn’t fly. It had not formed the strength in its wings to fly.

He didn’t realize that the struggle of getting out of the cocoon is exactly what it needed to be able to fly and live its new life as a butterfly. 

That butterfly is me.

So really, thank you, Addiction, for giving me strength by making me wear manacles and chains. Thank you for the journey I never would have chosen but one that I’m glad I traveled. And so, after all we’ve been through, I guess I can say thank you.

I know you’re still just around the corner, and so I’m staying ever-vigilant. But the path to my door is off-limits for good.

Sincerely, Me

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 930)