Emotionally Involved

In this post, I mentioned the machine I am so emotionally attached to.  I also described it as my 'addiction,' but what I didn't mention was why.

2018 was discovery year for me.  It was the year I every really experienced the effects, mentally and physically.  I can barely remember walking into my garage about 5 months after the discovery and staring at this machine.  It was an older model, all black and it was mine.  The only thing I saw was escape.

I felt alive again.  It didn't remind me my marriage fell apart.  It helped me forget the pain I was feeling.  I felt invincible when I was in fact not, but I was free for a few hours mentally.  I was finding happiness in my thrill for that particular adventure, and I was another person.  I was also selfish for this, simply because I did have my two small children at home.  

The emotional attachment was to a piece of hardware that gave me the ability to be someone else, and not the depressed woman that was found at home.  As soon as my face was covered, I was mentally someone else.  Selfish, but we all have something that actually wakes us up from the depression.  Sometimes I wish it was pills or alcohol, but it wasn't.  Those would have been easier to handle in my opinion.

I sold that machine in 2021 when I upgraded.

This new machine?  It was more for me than anything I've ever owned, and mostly because it was something I paid for with my own money and time.  It was mine 100%. The one thing this did for me, was it saved me from drowning as much as it tried to kill me, literally.  These machines landed me in jail for a stupid reckless stunt.  It landed me on the news, because someone was literally trying to end my life with false accusations.  It led me down a path of obsession to be accepted in that particular community.  However, it brought me back to life.

Every time I'd cover my face, believe it or not I could feel my heart beating again.  

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These machines were ironically the reason I met R.

I met his sister M in 2018 because she too had the same hobby.  Her mindset was much more aggressive than mine, and the woman had absolutely no fear.  She and I were both broken, so it was a connect for us.  It didn't take us long to become as close as sisters.

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When R and I spoke about selling it, this is all I could think about.  I came back to life; I found me again.  It's hard to explain and as much as my mother would disagree, I'm sure she'd agree to a point because she's the one who saw me die in 2018 and sees me living now.  I wish I could say it was my children who did it, but I'd be lying and that to me is pathetic in itself.  Everyone has their own personal defibrillator and that machine was mine.  

I don't need it like I did then, but I know for a fact it'll tear a hole in my heart when it's gone.  R has explained to me, 'If something happens to you, then what? I'll never see you or the kids again.' That's a risk I'm not willing to take anymore and he's right.

So, here's to 2025. The year I'll probably say good-bye, but also the year things grow for us.