We are all addicted to something. It may be to different things, but my concern is that bonding. A habit like any other, addiction begins either as a result of your love for that particular thing or because of some luring originating from some external force. The attachment develops, grows and selfstrengthens with time. By the time we realize it, it’s already a strong and resilient thread that can’t be gotten rid of that easily.
I tend to view addiction and obsession as two alike things. So, if I were to define them, then I’ll term them as a strong rebelling emotion to the urge of letting go of something or someone.
As a little African boy, during early 2000’s, going to school and spending my entire childhood in the village, birds were my treasure. There is nothing that I really enjoyed more than going out chasing after birds. I wasn’t into this alone. All my friends had this as their habit too.
There wasn’t any time to waste when school closed in the afternoons, we’ll rush home and pull off school uniform and in our civilian clothes start chasing after these beautiful creatures. We’d catch them with our traps and if big enough we would assemble, make fire and roast them carefully. And there we had our feast. If small, we used to rear them. My brother and I had our own little cage for these little creatures.
Our obsession could at times be accompanied by tears rolling down our eyes whenever any of the birds broke free out of our traps or when the cat we had at our home found itself an easy meal from it.
As a grown up now, I slowly find myself being preoccupied by different things. Coffee is one. It began with one small cup but now it’s a couple of big ones before retiring at night and immediately I’m out of bed. I take more of it especially when my friends come check on me or when I busy myself with some writing to do or reading or drawing. It has that spectacular and special taste that I keep thirsting for. I believe, even more cups as time goes by.
But how cunning can addiction be?
If you had a chance to confront that then little boy out of his habit, you’d have sure made an enemy. My mum did her best but her best wasn’t really enough. I would at times come home late. I would fail to take my mum’s delicacies. Her canning wasn’t really enough to have me out of my obsession. Come with your fully packaged research on how caffeine contained in my coffee may be bad, trust me it will be almost impossible to win me out.
There are so many things that we get ourselves into. At first, it’s one leg but after some time both legs are thrust in. Getting out can be much of a burden. My home province leading with highest numbers of drug addicts (cocaine, heroin, marijuana and many others), the government’s efforts to end drug abuse isn’t enough. The rehabilitation centers stationed at various constituencies in our four counties are not enough.
Being knowledgeable of the adverse side effects, isn’t enough. Maybe, contact with the reality should be but why?
What is enough anyway to end addiction?