The Chronicles of a Love Addict: A Love Junkie's Journey from Suicidal to Saved

By Keaidy Selmon

Because I loved a man who left me bruised, broke, and broken, I could be bitter. In fact, I could have just allowed my soul to remain as dark as some of these physical scars that he has left me with, but it's not worth it. Instead, I'm thankful for the opportunity to grow.
You see, I've smiled when I felt like crying. I've lived when I felt like dying, and I've stood tall when the weight of the world was dreadfully on my shoulders. Therefore, I will no longer consider myself a victim to his violence when I've survived things that would have seemed impossible to that part of my mind that is simple.
It was walking through the fire of that dangerous relationship that I understood the need for it all. Either God was going to be there to help me withstand it, or He was going to make me fireproof.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Keaidy Selmon
• Release date: Sep 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463759943

Book preview

The Chronicles of a Love Addict

A Love Junkie’s Journey from Suicidal to Saved

Keaidy Selmon

I have tried to recreate events, locales, and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances I have changed the names of individuals and places, I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence.

Copyright © 2016 Keaidy Selmon

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

LexxiKhan Presents Publishing

www.LexxiKhanPresents.com

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the web address above.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9600635-3-6

ISBN-10: 0960063536

Smashwords Edition

FOR MY BABIES

Your love is all the proof that I need that every mistake can be forgiven, and that every fool is capable of eventually getting it right.

Khloe: Your unwavering faith is inspirational. Despite any struggle that we’ve ever been through together, you have always believed in God and in me. Thank you.

Isaiah: Having the opportunity to be your mom despite how badly I thought I messed up the first time around is confirmation of how much love, mercy, and forgiveness God has for me.

Mommy loves you both

xo.

OTHER BOOKS BY KEAIDY SELMON

Charge it to the Game

Charge it to the Game 2: Tammy’s Story

Somewhere Between Love & Misunderstanding

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you Pastor Patrick Ligon (of Great Faith Church in Sanford, Florida). It was under your teaching that I finally learned the truth: the word works if you work it.

I also want to say thank you to Jacquelyn Ligon. I appreciate your tenacity to get me into a place where my spirit would be fed the wisdom I needed in order to grow. More importantly, I am forever grateful for your patience and love that came without judgement through the process. I love you.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PREFACE

PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY

THE DETOUR

LOST

BACKTRACKING

THE JOURNEY BEGINS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PREFACE

A drug, by definition, is a substance that has a physiological effect when introduced to the body. Ironically that’s what he once was for me.

He provided a euphoric feel unlike anything I had ever experienced. In his touch I found my missing self-esteem, and his kiss was more valuable to me than my own dignity. The highs of his love seemed to be the response for all my unanswered prayers.

Rewind back to before I lost my mind in love, he was my friend. He listened, he cared, and most importantly he was always there. Through his words and his actions he managed to convince me that all men weren’t the same. All it took was one taste of what I thought was his love and loyalty and that was enough to get my hooked.

After that, love went from just a four letter word that I had heard but didn’t know personally to an exciting verb and an alluring noun that was only synonymous to him. He had served me with the highest, rawest form of it possible and I couldn’t get enough – I was addicted.

I lost myself chasing the high from that first hit, but the thrill of reliving it made it all worth it for me to try to have it again. It was all fun and games, however, until I had suffered through my first withdrawal.

What’s crazy about everything is that I really wanted to put you in that memory of the first time the man I loved, adored, and practically worshiped put his hands on me, but I can’t vividly recall it. I know to some that sounds absurd, but any woman who has ever loved a man more than herself can understand that. After all, he loved me so that was okay right? It’s okay that he put his hands on me because it was only a reaction to something I did, right? WRONG! Those just happened to be a few of the lies that I told myself every time I had to fabricate another tale about a bruise he had left on me. Those same lies comforted me when the pain from a broken toe made walking almost impossible, and when the swelling from my jaw made it difficult for me to cry out to God and pray for a change.

I found myself stuck and confused. How had the man responsible for my happiness become the one responsible for my strife also? How could the only man who made me feel whole also make me feel so empty?

The worst part of it all is that I was all alone chasing those highs to try to make me feel complete again. I had told too many lies to those around me to speak up about what was really going on, and truthfully I was afraid of how he would react if he ever found out. My only relief came from finding my voice through my journal entries.

When I originally released the first part of this book, I used it as an escape to turn my anguish into a quick buck. I felt that I could turn my pain into power if I took what he meant to destroy me as a way of making me successful.

I’ll never forget the feeling I had when I was first approached by someone who had read my book. I had just gotten off the stage from performing a show I was headlining when a woman approached me with much excitement. She pulled out her phone, called her friend, and immediately started screaming into her phone’s microphone about meeting the woman who had helped changed their lives. Once she managed to calm down, she hung up and explained that after reading my book she had finally mustered up the courage to end a violent relationship.

It was good to know that I wasn’t alone, she said between sobs. Through your poems I found relief knowing that not only had someone else experienced the same pain and confusion, but that it was possible to find life and love after heartbreak.

I was floored! One, I hadn’t sold many copies, so I was surprised that one of my readers would have actually been in the audience that evening. Two, I couldn’t believe that my story could have had such an impact on someone else’s life.

When I got home that night I revisited my book because I wanted to see what the two women had seen in it. After reading through it, I was disgusted with myself. You see, when I originally released it I was so worried about having something to throw back in his face that I didn’t consider my fellow sisters that would eventually end up reading it. At the time, I was so worried about possibly looking foolish if I ever decided to get back with him that I wasn’t even honest to myself in the journal entries I wrote. I never documented the abuse and what it felt like to be dangerously in love with my abuser because to me if I didn’t write it then it wasn’t real. After that encounter with those two women, I knew I had to do things the right way.

This journey hasn’t been easy to live or easy to understand. For that reason, this book is broken down into five sections. Part one, Preparation for the Journey, consists of my original poetry book. I wanted to keep it as close as possible for those of you who never had the chance to read it. It briefly gives you a glimpse into the rollercoaster of emotions I went through in that first year of our relationship. Keep in mind, during that part of my life I had a hard time being honest with myself about my relationship with him. That came through in how vague I was in that book.

Part two, The Detour, shows where I first made the decision to leave him alone so I could focus on Him (God). While I had opened up a little more, I left my blog readers confused by not specifically answering certain questions. This section fills in those blank areas. You’ll find posts from my original blog. The posts will be underlined, and as always there will be a ‘Moral of the Story’ at the end. In between those, you’ll see just how much I’ve grown as I can comfortably tell you the missing pieces I refused to write or speak of before.

Part three, Lost, follows my life as I walked away from not only him but also Him. After a failed suicide attempt and a terrible incident at my church, I found myself questioning the existence of God all together. During this time, I made it my mission to find answers in other things. I partied more. I drank a lot, and the relief I used to find in God I was finding in drugs and telling people they were brainwashed to believe He actually existed.

Part four, Backtracking, shows my courageous decision to finally face some of the pain that I had dealt with throughout my adolescent years. I had come to a point in my life where I realized the pain from my father’s abandonment and being sexually touched by a relative at a young age had affected me more than I wanted to admit. I had to be real with myself and the pain I felt. I relived those moments through finding my love of poetry again.

Part five, The Journey Begins, shows when the man who really loved me and wanted me made His presence so undeniable in my life. It was at that moment that I realized I couldn’t be a victim and victorious at the same time. I knew then that I couldn’t take this journey holding on to everything I had been holding on to for so long. I had to free myself to be able to comfortably walk with Jesus.

My testimony from being a broken woman on the brink of suicide because of a man’s refusal to love me, to a saved woman who knows that everything I need can be found in God gives Him no glory if it’s not accurately told. This story that you’re holding now should have never been used as a form of payback to someone else, but instead as evidence of the marvelous things that God can do when we give our problems over to Him. Because honestly, I didn’t walk away from my abuser - God delivered me out of that situation. He not only did that, but also He took what the enemy meant to harm me and made it good so that it could also help save the lives of other women who made the same mistakes I once did. At the time, I was so busy searching for love in another human being that I was too blind to see the truth: If you allow the wrong man to lead you, the only place he’ll drive you is crazy. God is the source of all things. Everything that I felt I needed and everything I thought I was missing was only going to be found in Him with His guidance.

PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY

Writing is hard. Not as hard as not writing. Not writing is torturous, bloody, chaotic, and a gruesome winless battle. A writer who writes knows peace, lives connected to truth. Not writing is ache, betrayal, death of the soul and imagination. I can personally attest to that.

I started passionately writing in the third grade. While most eight year old girls wanted to stay inside and play dress up or with dolls, I was outside scrapping my knees from climbing trees and riding my bike down the largest hill in the neighborhood. Why? Because it made for great writing. ‘I like riding my bike’ became ‘I can’t imagine a day without the wind in my hair as I steer my bike down the large, bumpy hill.’

My third grade teacher, Ms. Hall, called me to her desk after she was surprised to know that someone so young could understand similes, comparisons, and personification without ever being taught about it first.

She was impressed. She was so impressed that she promised to try to get me on the writing staff for our elementary school’s morning show (something usually reserved for only fifth graders). The teacher who oversaw that program agreed with Ms. Hall, and before I knew it I was helping to write for not only the morning show, but I was also writing our class plays. I sincerely loved every moment of that.

My passion for writing continued to grow as I did. I was recognized for the contests I entered and for even having the highest scores in the school for the state standardized writing tests. Even through all of the accomplishments and recognition that I received, I never made a big deal out of my ability to put words together. Once I got to high school, I was still a part of anything that had to do with writing. I kept a journal, and I began a little hustle by getting paid to write papers for other people. Throughout my life writing was like breathing – it just came natural to me.

Then life happened.

When I was 21, I became pregnant with my daughter Khloe. I was able to keep a journal while I was pregnant, but once I had a young child, school, and a full time job to worry about there just wasn’t enough hours in my day to sleep much less to write.

I became highly irritable, sad, and angry. The tiniest things would set me off, and I never knew which direction I would go in. I could take it personally, get in my feelings, and cry, or I would go into a wild rage with the desire to destroy anyone or anything in my path.

When I told my doctor about this she immediately wrote me a prescription to treat postpartum depression.

Over a year later I still felt exactly the same way. I finally caved in and decided to see a psychiatrist, and she surprised me with the diagnosis of being bipolar. After I gave her a run down through my life and her helping me to point out my patterns of depressions and manias, I realized maybe she was right. What didn’t make sense to me though was why I had been on Earth for a quarter of a century before I discovered a lifelong mental illness.

From the sounds of things, she started. You were able to process your emotions effectively by figuring them out first. Instead of giving in to your anger, confusion, frustration, or sadness, you created a new character or poem and gave purpose to those feelings.

She was right.

It was at that moment that I finally accepted things for what they were. I’m not a person who enjoys writing; I’m an artist. Putting simple words together to create complex thoughts and ideas is what gives me life. Without a pen and notebook I’m lost.

The poem I wrote the day I accepted that was the most special to me. After years of not writing poems, my mind had been enslaved for too long and these poems were the keys to my mental freedom.

With that freedom came truth and clarity. I was able to finally be real, open, and honest with myself about some of my feelings. I had spent so much of my life avoiding love or sharing myself fully with another human or spirit.

After my first experience with him I craved it like an addict craved a fix. He was my only drug of choice. I had experienced the euphoria from the very first kiss and I knew from that moment on that I would do whatever I had to in order to cling to that feeling. As poems began to pour out of me they all seemed to have the same theme. They were all about him.

HIM

I met him when I needed him the most. I had finally come to the realization that I needed to start writing again, and he was my muse.

He was the mirror to everything that was wrong with me. Every negative trait I possessed he had managed to dress it up into a beautiful mess.

We both loved life and our freedom which is why we both agreed to keep things light in the beginning. I had just gotten out of a serious relationship and had no desire to jump into another one, so I thought it was perfect. That’s until I caught feelings. I had never felt this way about anyone before him. He stirred up emotions out of me that I had no idea I was capable of feeling.

Though I had originally craved my freedom, being so close to something my soul desired, something I needed to keep me sane, I was afraid to ever have to let him go.

That’s when everything changed.

THE HARSHEST REALITY

I’ve heard far too many times that when someone tells you who they really are to believe them,

But what are you supposed to do when their actions and your feelings won’t allow you to?

He said that there were others,

But when we’re alone I feel like his only.

Special,

Loved,

Cared for

In a different way though - in our way.

He gets me,

And we understand each other.

But then that small moment of magic is quickly replaced by the harshest of realities.

There are others.

I’m NOT the only one and that sweet period of bliss that he covered me with is now left for another woman to experience.

As much as I want to be, I can’t be mad because he has been nothing but honest to the fact that

There are others.

When the time comes – when he’s positive he has found the one he will settle down, but in the meantime:

There are others.

Do I deny the love I have for him or the way his presence makes me feel because I know he possess the power to make another feel the same way?

Special, loved, and genuinely cared for, the basic needs any woman would want.

Then, add to that his charm, his wit, his smile, and how something as simple as his touch electrifies every nerve in my body.

As much as I want to – I can’t refute I love him for how he makes me feel like no other has ever been able to do before.

Do I take the chance and have faith that what is meant to be will be, or do I just hold my head high, walk away and spend the rest of my life wondering what if?

Do I count my loss time as just experience and deny myself at a shot of true happiness because of the reality that I’m living in?

Now, for me there is no one else,

But for him

There are others.

Am I crazy for truly believing that real love will prevail all obstacles and things, or am I just a young fool who is dangerously in love with a selfish individual who doesn’t care enough about my feelings to realize that it now kills me to accept

That there are others.

WONDER WOMAN

Wonder Woman was just a strong woman in a good suit. The sheath she wore was her way of showing others who she was and it protected her because others knew to proceed with caution when dealing with her. That’s kind of what being heartless and unemotional has been for me.

Most people handle me with care for fear of releasing the wrath that is my slick mouth. He didn’t care about any of that, so without trying he had gotten me to lower my shield. For once, I cared enough about another human that I placed his desires on a pedestal much higher than my own.

My mind told me to run – to run as fast as I could, but my heart, mind, and body yearned for him. I was stuck. I was powerless.

KYRPTONITE

Your subtle kisses are the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt;

Yet your love is venomous for me.

I want to forget you, but you’re a part of this hand I was dealt,

So I try but can’t find a way to let you be.

One glance in your brown eyes and I seem to lose all of my common sense.

The window to your soul sucks me in and keeps me confined.

No matter how hard I contest – I’m weak and sadly so is all of my defense.

It’s frightening to me because this is not how I was designed.

Guard your heart, my mother constantly said.

Don’t ever let a man in.

I take heed to her words because she always seemed to be right,

But no matter the size of the battle – you always seem to win.

Because once you smile that enchanting smile, I lose all of my will to fight.

Sadly I must admit defeat.

This super hero has finally found her kryptonite.

COMMUNICATION IS KEY & I’M LOCKED OUT

They say that communication is the key to a healthy relationship, so it’s no wonder that I’ve never really had one. Why you may ask? Well, it’s because I cannot communicate effectively. Yes you read that correctly the first time. I am a woman of many words and ways to express them, but I am flat out terrible at vocalizing exactly what I feel. I