The Addiction

by Godfrey J. Ellis – October 2002

Not all of my poems are nostalgic memories of childhood. The poem below is a frank (perhaps too frank) perception of my wonderful, talented, and frankly saintly mother who, unfortunately, was addicted. She was not addicted to drink or drug. She was addicted to external praise. My brother hated this poem, perhaps because of its naked honesty, which outed a loved mother. It airs intimate details about the weakness of an otherwise strong woman. Some of my poems took days and numerous drafts to complete. This one just poured out of me in half an hour; it almost wrote itself.

Hello, my name is Ruth,
And I am an addict.
 
Not an alcoholic!  Like my father….
Not an addict of powder, pill, or smoke!
Horrors!  That would never do.
 
I am addicted to praise…
And that’s okay, isn’t it?
 
Please love me!
Please tell me that I am worthwhile,
A unique child of God.
 
Oh, thank you!
But you curse me as you gratify me.
For, like any addict,
The more I consume, the more I crave
Like a bottomless pit, there is no end.
Like a black hole, there is no exit.
I am empty …and can never be filled.
 
I feed the addiction by earning your praise
With gifts that flow through my eyes:
Beautiful art, inspiring poetry, gripping novels.
 
But I am old now, and my eyes have died,
Died too early…before the rest of me.
I can no longer paint or write,
Through the misty blur in the fog of white.
 
It is hard to feed an addiction
With only yesterday’s fruits
From today’s barren tree.
 
Sightless eyes still weep tears,
Some call it depression,
It is really, mourning.
 
So, I tell people of my blindness
Again, and again.
Searching for someone to fix me.
Or, at least, feed me; feed my addiction.
Tell me I’m still wonderful,
And talented, and worthwhile.
Just for me.
Not for my art or writing…just for me.
 
“But you are!” they say.
Alas, I do not know these truths of myself.
 
I have indulged in the luxury of praise,
And reaped the curse of dependency.
I lack any inner sense of who I am
Beyond just a reflection of others’ admiration.
 
I am an open wound, a chick’s gaping beak,
I drive away my suppliers,
Even as I hunger to feed my addiction.
 
Please help me!
I have forgotten how to help myself.