I miss the escape, not the damage

Dear Delyara, People assume that if you are trying to recover from something, what you miss is the thing itself. That’s not quite true for me. What I miss is the interruption. The gap between me and myself. The few hours where my thoughts were quieter, my shame was lower, and my body felt less like a place I was trapped inside. I don’t miss the consequences. I don’t miss the hiding. I don’t miss the emotional fog that followed. I don’t miss the version of me who was harder to respect afterward. But I do miss that first false feeling of relief. That is what makes it complicated. I am not grieving pleasure. I am grieving anesthesia.