Writer's Withdrawal

Cold sweats.

Hot Flashes.

Laying in the fetal position.

Shaking all night.

Random outbursts.

Pain traveling down my arms into my fingers.

Anxiety.

Insomnia.

Tremors.

Nausea to the point of almost vomiting.

Pain in my head, as I hold everything back.

I tried not to break. I wanted to succeed. Yet, after experiencing all of those withdrawal symptoms, it is obvious to me I have experienced an withdrawal symptoms only a true writer will experience. I am addicted to writing, and giving it up has pushed me to extremes. So I give up. Not on writing, but on giving up on not writing. These withdrawal symptoms and pain are not worth the lack of writing. I have found I can not live without it. I must have my pen and paper. My laptop must be within arm’s reach. Even for a short time, I can not imagine life any longer without the written word.

As I sat there on Friday night getting my feet massaged, I was presented with a mission. A bet - if you must. I was talking about how I couldn’t help the random thoughts that kept pressing me for attention. Yet, these thoughts were so uncontrollable and so loud I could not sit down and concentrate on any one of them. I had to do something. It seemed I was experiencing burnout. My addiction was overwhelming. Yet, I couldn’t admit it. I took a stand and said I was not addicted. How could one person possibly be addicted to writing. It was nonsense! It was impossible! And I was willing to prove a point. I could go without writing for a period of time without any effect.

As part of the bet, I was not allowed to write from Friday evening until Sunday night. The other part of the bet belongs to my mother-in-law, who is addicted to the online game Zumba. If I couldn’t write, she couldn’t play her online game for the same amount of time. With a pinky swear setting it up, the bet was in place, and the road taken would be rocky! Who would break first!

As a part of the bet, I tried to stay away from Hubpages and from Facebook. Or at least participate minimally. Being on the computer would make it way to easy for me to open up a word document and jot down a few catchy phrases entering my mind. It was better off to just stay away, and stay away as far as I could.

Now I still had my phone in hand. I could post status updates from my phone, however it was a pain in the butt to go any further. I could still see the hubs I followed and the comments being made. But on my phone, it is too difficult to respond. The inconvenience of using my phone kept me connected, but didn’t allow me to fully participate. The lack of Hubpages and Facebook taught me a very important lesson. I was addicted! I was 110% addicted to writing.

After taking the whole weekend off from writing, my husband finally begged me to go back. He couldn’t take my outburst and my cranky stature. He knew writing was my release, and tearing me away from this dangerous addiction could be the death of me and possibly of him.

So here I am - living proof that attempting to get over a writing addiction is dangerous to the writer and every person around them. It wasn’t worth the headaches. It wasn’t worth the suffering.

The withdrawal symptoms are starting to ease up some. I am starting to feel a little better. The sweat release of my fingers typing on the laptop has calmed me down a bit and I have almost forgot the horrible weekend without writing. I even won the bet. Yet, I also know I am a survivor! However, I will continue with this horrible addiction.