concert, and he surprised me with gifts from Tiffany cunningly stashed in the glove compartment. We danced barefoot in the grass at a Harry Connick Jr. Matt was my knight in shining Mercedes, courageously wielding his credit card as we bushwhacked through the malls of northern Virginia. But the facts of my experience - a relationship that utterly consumed my life, the magnitude of the depths to which I plunged before I sought help - are indisputable.Īt the start our "new romance high" was unlike any I had experienced. Even now, years later, I have mixed feelings about the term. I know what you're thinking: Love addiction? Give me a break. And then I spent four months - and a good chunk of my family's money - in treatment for love addiction.
I hit bottom one sleepless night, strung out on the bedroom floor, contemplating suicide. No needles as excuse for my alarming weight loss. No pills to explain the 15 hours a day I slept.
There was no booze to blame for my blackouts, vomiting and bed-wetting. IN 12-step confessional style, this is what love addiction did to my life: I dropped out of college, quit my job, stopped talking to my family and friends.
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