Write Using the Words 'Heartbreak,' 'Brake Fluid,' 'Trust' - Carol Arnold

There was no way I could deal with the heartbreak of losing Hunter except to go way down into it, wallow in it even. He was all I ever wanted, ever since that day we met at the AA meeting, him coming down off a hard binge, me far enough sober that my relapse dreams came only once a week instead of five. I just looked into those burnt bruised eyes and knew he was mine. I wasn’t so ignorant that I didn’t know addictions could transfer like that, that you could go from substances to men in a flash. I didn’t care. I was there for him from the first moment I saw him. Whatever he wanted, whenever and wherever he wanted it, I was there.

When he told me he’d met Petunia and fallen in love I ran home, locked the door, and ripped the phone off the wall. I played Achy Braky Heart over and over, eating nothing but mint chip ice cream and Cocoa Puffs. I welcomed that well of pain, swam in its acidy fluid until, exhausted, I would fall asleep for a minute or two before waking again in its sour grasp. Nelly finally broke down the door. She told me to trust that I would come out the other side but I had to want to, I had to begin putting on the brake of mental health. But I didn’t want mental health. I wanted to breath grief, drink it, eat it, have sex with it. I would have even hired a preacher to marry it if they had let me.