I've been in recovery for over a year now. Part of trying to stay in recovery, for me, is reading over journals and stuff that I wrote throughout this process. It helps me to stay away from romanticizing my relationship with gambling somehow. There was nothing good about it. I need to remember that and the further away the pain becomes the easier it is to start thinking about it like it wasn't that bad. Hah. It was hell. This is the "dear john" letter I wrote to my addiction a while back. Many of you have read it already but I wanted to repost it anyways. It helped me today.

Dear addiction,

Where do I start?

We are through. Thanks for nothing. Dont let the door hit you where the good lord split you. We are never ever, ever getting back together.

I should respect you more. You have a lot of power. You ran my life for several years.

It was my life and you stole it from me. Not like some common thief. You were much more cunning, the ultimate manipulator, my friend at first.

You helped me forget my problems. You cured my boredom. You made me feel. First it was happiness and elation. I was excited about something and that felt good.

If there was a fight, you were on my side. You were my refuge, my distraction from a lonely life. The answer to the question - What will make me happy?

And for a long time we stayed friends. I had a lot of money and even more time. And you were there for me, like no one was ever there for me.

Things started to change though, like they often do. I still had a lot of time. But the money was getting harder to find and losing it became a little more important.

My feelings for you became complex. I still loved that you were there for me and I needed you. But you made me feel really bad. You always promised that the next time it would be different. It seldom was.

And I couldnt break up with you. You wouldnt leave me alone. I was obsessed with you and it was unhealthy. You spoke to me in my dreams and I woke up with you on my mind.

I wanted to quit you, more than I had ever wanted anything. And still there you were offering me solace, with the very thing that brought me pain. And it worked as long as it worked.

You made my life unmanageable. I lied for you and snuck around. I stopped paying my bills so that we could be together. I hated you and I began to hate me.

I began to believe that there was only one way to escape your grasp. I researched ways to die painlessly and life insurance policies that would cover my debt. All the while, meeting you secretly late at night, telling myself that it would be over soon. Why did it matter?

My outlook on life had changed. I started to review my past and tried to detach from my present. When it was all too much, yours where still the arms that I ran to. You comforted me and nothing else mattered.

You would not leave me alone though. You were with me every hour: In the morning when I was too tired to get out of bed, when the phone rang and it was always bill collectors, when my check engine light came on and stayed on because I didnt have the money to fix it, when the water company handed me the cutoff notice, when I had the TV on late at night and the are you in debt? Do you owe the IRS? commercials came on (and they came on a lot). When I went to bed each night, stomach filled with acid and mind filled with thoughts of what Id done, you where there. You stole my night and day dreams from me.

I could find no peace with you by my side. You became a form of self mutilation. I hated myself and felt I deserved the pain. I couldnt look myself in the eye. I planned my death and as these plans developed, I wondered if one day, like a light switch being switched off, I would just do it. I was that close and I wasnt sure what was stopping me except that I didnt really want to die. I just wanted to stop wanting to die.

Time moved on and the lies piled up. I didnt recognize myself and I didnt care. You didnt care either and this is where I start the breaking up with you part.

There are moments in life that are never forgotten. One of these moments saved my life and killed our relationship. The two were incompatible anyways.

The phone rang. The voice on the other end of the line was broken. Heroin had taken her grandson. My sweet nephew was only twenty-five. He was an addict like me. Our lovers were after the same thing. They wanted everything from us and his lover had gotten what she wanted.

And it stared me in the face; this is the pain I will cause. My death will break people, the kind of broke that cant be fixed. Ever.

I knew what I had to do.

I couldnt die. I had to find a way to leave you. I had to reach out for help. I had to tell people what you had done to me, a lot of people. I had to leave my pride at the door. I had to take it day by day with the knowledge that you are always there for me, waiting to make a bad thing worse or a good thing bad.

At first it took everything I had to not answer your calls. I was pretty sick over it all. You were still with me every day. I still hated myself and you. But it did get easier with time. I even found myself reminiscing over the good times we had. I missed the excitement. But I came to understand that meeting you again would be the same thing as writing my suicide note.

I dont want to die in your arms.

Its my life and you tried to steal it from me. I am taking it back. I want to let you know that Im not coming back. Im okay with walking away. Although we were friends once, the good times we had almost killed me and Ive decided that .

My answer to how to lead a happy life is to learn to always be there for myself and to fight for my life as hard as you did.

Farewell forever,

Lisa