A Quick Stroll Down Love Addiction Lane

Five years ago over the 4th of July weekend, I was in San Antonio, Texas with more than 50,000+ people for the International Convention of the 75th anniversary of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). And although my sole reason for being there was like everyone else’s, to rejoice in sobriety, my focus was on something else more than not. What was it? Sadly, it was on the object of my then very active love addiction.

As I sit here and reflect upon all my actions and behaviors at that international AA convention, I can clearly see now how very sick I was then with an addiction that had me in it’s deadly grips until April 23rd, 2012. While everyone there seemed to be enjoying meeting new people from all around the world, all attending one meeting after another together, my eyes were glued to my phone on almost a consistent basis with my thoughts thousands of miles away.

Did I miss a call from him?

When is he going to call me?

I wish he were here.

I wonder what he’s doing right now?

These were just some of the many things that crossed my mind with every waking moment I was in San Antonio. Truthfully, I really wasn’t in that city at all, nor was I really at that convention for most of it either. Rather, I was back in Massachusetts in the home of the object of my love addiction.

I remember so vividly one moment in particular at this convention where I was waiting for a return phone call from this man who was the ongoing recipient of my disease at the time. I had just walked into a bathroom to relieve myself after a meeting I had attended but barely listened to. My mind was racing. Is he mad at me? Why hasn’t he called me back? I wonder if he’s found someone else? As I walked out of the bathroom pondering these thoughts, I reached into my pocket to look at my phone for the umpteenth time, to see if I had somehow missed his call.

Where is my phone! 

OH MY GOD! Where is my phone!

I reached in and out of my front pockets over and over again searching for it, like a heroin addict looking for his next fix. I had a panic attack and raced back into the bathroom, believing I had left it on the urinal.

“Excuse me, is there a phone over there? Do you see a phone there? Hey you? Sir?” I said repeatedly to a man taking a leak at the stall I had previously left.

I wasn’t even embarrassed because all I could think about was missing a call from my love addiction. Pretty soon I was asking the entire crop of men in the bathroom if they had seen a phone lying around, but everyone shook their heads and looked at me like I was insane. And actually I was and I’m sure I played that part very well right then.

As I left the bathroom, my brain raced uncontrollably and tears began to form in my eyes. Suddenly I realized I hadn’t checked my back pockets and that’s when I felt a bulge in one. It was my phone! Phew, relief…

My heart then slowed down to a steady crawl and I glanced down to see once again if I had missed his call. I hadn’t.

Why hasn’t he called!!!

And then the irrational cycle of my love addiction began all over again…

This was just one of many insanity-filled examples of my once very active love addiction, which is why I’m so grateful I’m presently free from an addiction that pretty much tore my entire life apart back then.

The point I’m trying to make with this quick stroll down love addiction lane is this. Love addiction is a serious problem for so many in this world, but most are often quite unaware of the disease within them when it’s active. If any of what I have written here rings true with you, I encourage you to seek help.

There is hope out there. I am a living, breathing example of it. Through the aid of Sex and Love Addiction Anonymous (SLAA), Sex Addicts Anonymous (SAA), my Higher Power, and the 12 Steps, I have found freedom one day at a time for three years now, from an addiction that robbed my life from being present at so many things, including that international convention. Thank God, I’ve grown so much since then. Thank God…

Peace, love, light, and joy,

Andrew Arthur Dawson