Addictions can be good things, used for the wrong reasons.  Pleasure trumps pain.  It can be the pleasure of completing tasks, making crafts, even a juicy apple, even exercising.  If something has the power to make us uncomfortable with ourselves or to threaten heartbreak, any of the above or almost any thing else, can be an addiction used to avoid emotional or mental pain.  Our spiritual journey involves a lot of uncomfortable things like admitting we avoid reaching out to  people who unintentionally hurt us instead of risking being honest and reconciling.  Years ago, I cut two women out of my life who had been very kind to me.  One had unknowingly made me feel ridiculous and the other had spoken about a “fag” she was actually fond of, not knowing I had gay sons. Neither intended to hurt me.  I let them die without ever explaining.   Avoiding people who are different from ourselves keeps most people divided politically and spiritually.  Because we are simply blind to one another’s ways of being in the world, we can’t put ourselves in each others ways of being, seeing, and valuing. . Another abuse of perfectly good things is finding ways to not grieve losses that have the power to break our hearts. My first response to most things is emotional. This makes me vulnerable to hurt and a tendency to find ways to avoid experiencing painful losses.  I did not grieve the loss of my much loved father for six years.  We didn’t live near each other and he died on the other side of the world. It was a closed casket funeral. So,  I managed to unconsciously just pretend to myself that he was somewhere else. When my husband died four years ago, I spent the first year or so focused on learning to live alone for the first time in my life.  Then Covid hit and I focused on surviving it by diet, exercise, and writing and getting published in a couple of county newspapers.  Finally in the fourth year, I found I could not enjoy even happy memories without crying.  It’s been a process of getting brave enough to let myself go into that dark scary place of heartbreak.  I’m a devout coward frankly, but there is where I find God and grace when I risk it.  And then the happy memories can heal me.   In my old age I’ve begun to recognize how many ways I have of avoiding dealing with things about myself or my life that when faced can be healed by the Love of God, which is grace for the journey.  Self knowledge is often painful, because we so badly want to be, if not perfect, at least better than somebody else. Knowing that unconditional love of God expressed in Jesus frees us to begin to accept the imperfect us God created us to be and to admit we need even the people who are different from us, who sometimes inadvertently make us feel inferior or superior. When it’s not either, it’s complimentary differences. I’m not explaining this very well. But until we understand the differences that we are born with and which are all needed, conflict can’t be avoided and we can’t help each other make this a better world.

I do know that having someone who understands us and can simply cry with us rather than trying to fix us is a key to freedom to accept ourselves, our limits, our pain and thus paradoxically become able to grow. It’s scary because we’ve spent our lives perfecting our image and letting down the mask always involves risk.  And though I still struggle with it, I know from experience it’s the key to spiritual growth and true community across our differences..