Delicious Poison - The Love Allergy & Addiction

The recent tragedy of Zaria and Shamarcus Carr has prompted me to share some thoughts on domestic violence. As a childhood trauma and domestic violence survivor, stories like these inspire me to seek and share wisdom from my own wounds.  

I feel like it's important to make a few points clear in advance of the thoughts I intend to share. The first is that beyond exceptional circumstances of self-defense, violence and murder are wrong. The second is that innocence is not a prerequisite to being a victim. In the absence of my previous statements, the following truths are easily mistaken for victim blaming; they're not. 

Toxic patterns are addictive, for both the perpetrator and their victims.

Valid attribution of blame and true justice are elusive because responsibility belongs to generations that precede, and systems that fail people today.

Frequently, victims are complicit in their own abuse. 

Accountability is not about guilt, but a reclamation of power.

"Allergic addiction" is a phenomenon that medical scientists have noted as cycles of intense craving and withdrawal for triggering foods in people with related sensitivities. As a highly sensitive person, I have several food allergies; each one of them easily counted among my greatest temptations. I come from multi-generational addiction, so it's not surprising at all. Even less surprising are the dysfunctional relationships that abound among the many addicts that I've been exposed to, in my family and beyond. Toxic romance dynamics are usually dismissed as bad behavior, attributed to underlying character deficiencies such as addiction. 

Does a love allergy exist for childhood trauma survivors? Are some of us wired for addiction to people who are bad for us?

I was born broken, and none of the people charged with fixing me were capable of as much. That's not a sad story, just my truth - later to be told. Preceding my current husband, were three significant relationships. I remember my first thoughts when I met each of them. Each denotes a clear pretense for inevitable dysfunction. The thoughts always centered around 'changing' them - or endeavoring to be their 'exception.'

Each one of my lovers was wrestling their own demons when I met them, and I brought weapons to the ring. On the surface, I was always the obvious victim and none but myself knew the games I was playing for my own rush of endorphins. This was chemistry to me; fear, competition, exploitation. Edging myself on the steepest cliffs of my own fragile landscape, I thought 

"If I survive this one, they'll never fully recover from me." 

That anticipation turned. me. on. Victims can also be predators and manipulators. "Birds of a feather flock together," as my grandmother always said. It's true. This does not absolve abusers of accountability. Blame is less important than understanding why some of us choose people we know will hurt us, and grow addicted to the cycle of trauma. I'm not convinced that the reasons are the same for everyone. It wasn't until I was outmatched, barely escaping with my freedom - that I took an interest in understanding my own. I knew I was healed when I recognized the role I played, and forgave those who had hurt me - including myself.

The attraction is easy to understand, but the chemistry speaks another language. For many of us, it's all we felt but never talked about as children. The abandoned child who had no control and no closure, inevitably finds the threat of abandonment irresistible. A three-year-old can’t stop daddy from leaving, but a 30-year-old woman has an arsenal of wits and wiles to make a man who doesn’t want her, return. Anyone whose ever seen a toxic lover’s quarrel will probably recall either person violently shaking their partner off, only to have that partner pull at them, block them, stop them from leaving at any cost. 

While some runners may have a real intention of leaving, for many others - the pull back is an adrenaline fueled high. The child nobody cared about is now an adult at the center of someone’s universe - in that moment. After its glow is spent on the high of false hopes, makeup sex, and apologies - the euphoria fades. Withdrawal is generalized to its respective reality, and some new drama is needed to rekindle a fire so strong it threatens to consume both individuals. As the stakes get higher to achieve the same effect, sometimes it does just that. Often the road to finality is long, with a plethora of exits that were ignored. Like with any addiction, quitting a toxic relationship is hard. Furthermore, it probably seems unnatural to think of people as a drug. 

“When you can quit, you don’t want to. When you want to quit, you can’t.”

Human beings aren’t just drugs, we are production labs. Our character, heavily influenced by our backgrounds, determines both the nature of our internal pharmacy, and drug of choice. Cocaine mimics dopamine, which humans produce in response to being love bombed, or being loved intermittently. That means just a small dose of performative love after bouts of neglect can elicit the effects of cocaine dependency (hence the damage of inconsistency in parents). MDMA mimics oxytocin - which the human body produces when trauma bonding. Endorphins are naturally produced opioids and are released during trauma cycles. Meth and adrenaline are effectively similar. This is a short list of the many chemicals that keep toxic relationship parties in a perpetual state of inebriation.

This is also why leaving a toxic relationship is hard. Your addicted body fires off panic signals, under threat of withdrawal. The food addict thinks he’s hungry. The opioid addict feels she’s in pain. The trauma bonded addict, believes they are in love - and maybe they are. But love, like hunger and pain, doesn’t drive a sane person to compromise their well-being. Addiction always will. The brain is our most powerful muscle and our most formidable enemy when altered by dependency. 

In my experience, leaving someone I was addicted to required compartmentalizing my feelings that could not be trusted. I had to step back for the full perspective and embrace the sort of honesty that hurts and humbles.  

The disturbing truth is that many victims engage conflict with their abusers, because that drama is their vice. Many victims don’t want their abusers to get healthy, because toxicity is the glue holding them together. For some victims, their tolerance of abuse is a way of anchoring themselves to someone who is not meant for them. In other cases, being abused makes it easy to hide from one's own potential as a perpetrator. You don't have to be a healthy companion, just less obvious than the one beating you. While victims aren’t to blame for the choices their abusers make, accountability empowers everyone to make wiser decisions.

In all abusive circumstances; everyone is hurting - it's just a matter of who's hurting more, and who might die.

If you or anyone you know is in a relationship where verbal, emotional, and psychological abuse has been normalized - you and anyone relying on you is in imminent danger. Chronic infidelity is a form of emotional and psychological abuse. If you are in a relationship where physical abuse has happened or is feasible, the next hit might kill you or someone you love. Abuse, like addiction, is ‘predictably unpredictable.’ Leave - crying, scared, guilty, even regretful - but alive. Forgive them and yourself, but don’t look back. 

Once your body recalibrates in the absence of drama; sort your internal pharmacy out. Understand why that sort of person is the drug that hooks you. Heal this part of yourself. When love finds you, it might feel unfamiliar. Chemistry, you’ll discover, is remiss of fear and uncertainty. Two parts that flow together with ease; feels safe, calm, and even a little boring until you appreciate peace. Prepare by prioritizing peace with yourself first. As you move forward in your recovery, practice gratitude for understanding what others lost their lives for failing to learn.

‘May God grant you the serenity to accept the things you cannot change, courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.’

My condolences to the Carr family; most especially the child they left behind.