GETTING IT
I was a love addict. I accepted it, the big question was, how was I going to get over it. Norwood recommended a Women Who Love Too Much group. I found one nearby in New York, a year, a few bad guys and heartbreaks, later. There, other brave pioneers and I copped and coped with our illness, together. We’d recite some of the passages from WWLTM as gospel, a bridge across denial. One of the first “gets”, learning something new, was that I was an 'aholic, addicted to sex, booze, overeating, inhaling, work, everything except coffee. There was no difference between a joint, a line, a bottle, or a gallon. They were all the same. That was for openers.
THE VOICE
The next “get”, was that “The Voice”, an All Day, All Night, Only Bad News internal broadcast was running me. As a wise elder grandmother from New Guinea said, “No one else is out there.” Who else was in there? It was, “The voice”, a rammo (ramification) of not receiving unconditional love. We named our ‘voices’ to get the distance. Mine was, The Boston Strangler. Differentiating between a voice attack and reality, killing ‘the voice’, el besto and only way to go. OK, behavior modification.ADDICTED TO UNAVAILABLE MEN, REJECTION, PAIN
On a piece of paper, I made three columns to see if I could diagram the relationships I’d had with the ‘hims’ of my life. One of the columns was, Men Who I Rejected Because They Loved Me, one column was, Men Who I Chased Because They Were Unavailable, Unattainable Or Rejecting, the third was Crossovers, Men Who I Loved Because They Were Rejecting Me But When They Switched Over And, A. Asked Me To Get Married Or B. Told Me How Much They Loved Me, I Blew Them Out Of The Water. Yup. There it was. On paper. My life. I was addicted to rejection. To the adrenalin rush, to the pain. I did the same with women. Relationships with friends, were shaky, I discovered that it was the same pattern, I was attracted to rejecting, unavailable friends, mostly meanies, rejecting ‘nice’ girls because they were boring.MY BUDDY
Group helped with another HUGE ‘get’. I checked into group, once a week, they were my conscience, sounding board, Greek chorus. I soon got that I couldn’t do it, rather, not do it, alone. No one can. Left to my own devices, I’d make the same mistakes over and over. AND OVER. I needed to be able to contact someone before I made a mistake and did it or him again.I needed someone who could watch my back, who I could trust was on my side, a friend in deed, a buddy. I met my buddy in a self-help group. She stuck up for me when someone was giving me a hard time. After, we made a deal at an outdoor café that we’d be buddies, there for each other, thru fair and foul weather, forever. If we got into a situation where we didn’t know what to do, we'd ask each other, “What would a healthy person do?” WWHPD. 20 years later, she’s still my buddy.THE MARILYN SYNDROME
Out of the group experience, I co-authored, Lovesick, the Marilyn Syndrome, Why Women Become Addicted To The Wrong Men And What To Do About It, one of the first self-help books, published in 1991. I changed the concept of loving too much to being sick over love, lovesick, having the Marilyn Syndrome. Why Marilyn Monroe? Her mother had a one night stand, got pregnant. She was crazy, couldn't take care of her, so she grew up in a series of foster homes, orphanages. As an adult Marilyn was addicted to being late, champagne, sex, rejecting, unattainable, men, (President Kennedy, his brother, Bobby Kennedy and the mobster Bobby was pursuing, in her last months) rejecting anyone who loved her. She was one of us.
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