The absence of pain

Soaking in my hot tub tonight, I was thinking about all the times I had been there before, deeply in love and deeply in pain. I was struck with a realization. Sometimes, just a little, I miss the pain of breaking up.

I know that might disturb and perplex a few. You'll have to trust me when I say I'm not a masochist. I have a healthy sense of self-preservation and regard and (now and then) know what's best for me. Things are fine, everything's going alright, life is nice. I enjoy the simple pleasures of family, home and friends and spending time with myself: I enjoy my company. And I'm proud of myself for getting out of that destructive cycle of "make up to break up" (yes, I grew up in the 70's). But still . . .

Tonight I realized that that intense emotional state, be it love or pain, has left a sort of dullness now that it's gone.

Maybe this is what it's like to recover from addiction. Both the highs AND lows were somehow meaningful - the pleasure/pain receptors were firing and all that. Of course I don't wish for it to come back, and god forbid I ever go through that pain again. But I was feeling something deeply, and I guess I miss that intensity.

I may read this in disbelief tomorrow. But tonight, I just don't feel much of anything, and it's not just the wine.