Every once in a while, even now, Insecurity likes to pounce on me. It’s lurking most of the time, quiet and irritated that I don’t hate myself anymore. But there are times when my insecurity addiction finds a weak spot and takes a nice bite out of my ass before I wrestle it back to the shadows where it belongs. I used to get mad at myself for “letting it happen,” but now I recognize that I’m an addict. Sure, it’s a behavioral addiction, but that doesn’t make it less than substance abuse. I’m gonna stumble, I’m gonna fall, and I’m gonna get back up again. Sometimes I even miss it; miss that feeling of misery and self blame. Being a bully, even to yourself, is a helluva rush. It’s bizarre, missing something so horrible, so bad for me, but that’s addiction. Eventually, I get myself up, wipe off the remnants of the dip in the bog of eternal stench (self hatred), and move forward again. So don’t beat yourself up for stumbling and the occasional splash down into the shit again. Dry land is waiting just up ahead.