My name is Rhonny and I am a seasonal forum addict – I believe the clinical diagnosis is Seasonal Forum Addictive Disorder or SFAD.
It starts in March every year, beginning with the realization that June is quickly approaching. With an elevated temperature, and clammy hands shaking slightly, I log into the Forum.
Initially, I can maintain the appearance of self-control…I sort through all the posts that have taken place since I last posted. I silently regret not logging on and saying “Happy Thanksgiving”, “Merry Christmas”, and “Happy New Year.” Though I think about it every holiday… for some reason it just never spits out of the other end of the thought process. I chastise myself for not posting reviews of all the concerts and festivals I have seen in the preceding year. I vow to do better from here on out. Reading all the posts, I slowly begin to “jump in” to the conversation, to get my tootsies wet, if you will.
Convincing myself, it is a. out of necessity, and that I can b. continue to maintain a tenuous grasp on my self-control; I log on - furiously post responses and log off. I wait hours without posting, to view responses to my posts… if I’m busy, it might not even happen until the following day. With each passing day, the posts increase in numbers, the time between logins decreases. Eventually, I check that little box that says “Always Stay Logged In”, because logging in and out cuts into my “posting time.” I tell myself, “Self, it’s ok, you are under control. You need tickets, you need information, these are your friends - this is necessary.”
Slowly, without realizing it, I begin that all too familiar spiral into my addiction. I cancel dates with attractive young men who only want to spend their money on me. I stay up all night long. I begin to research natural substances that will increase my energy, visual acuity, and finger dexterity… all to further enhance my “enjoyment” of the forum.
From out of the blue, the “gateway behaviors” begin to occur. Credit cards begin to fill with online music purchases. Hours and hours are spent researching and purchasing camping equipment and cheesy camp decorations. I open new “revolving charge accounts” with online providers like Oriental Trading and Brews-R-Us. I buy pair after pair of “festival footwear”, looking for the optimum top of foot tan line.
My friends become aware of my addiction… though I am still unaware of its existence. They call, forced to leave messages, because I’m not “picking up.” I’m an hour late for appointments, etc., due to my inability to leave the computer if I’ve posted something I think is funny. (I am waiting RIGHT NOW while you read this, for your response! HELP ME!) When I finally do show up for that dinner, movie or drinks with friends, I talk incessantly about a festival they think they have outgrown, and people they will sadly never know because of their foolish belief that they are too mature for such frivolity.
My friends get together and discuss a possible intervention. Someone invariably declines to participate, mumbling something about “lead a horse to water, but can’t make it drink”, and the subject is shi%t-canned in favor of something more pleasant to discuss. Like what shot those “really, really, mature” people are going to have next. Emails circulate ridiculing me - judgments made.
All the while, I am slipping further down into the abyss of my addiction. My work slips, and I think its funny. I get no lovin’, and I think its funny. My laundry goes un-washed, and I think its funny. My outfits get increasingly creative, and I think its funny. (I tell myself I’m simply re-adopting my more bohemian-self… shedding the accoutrement of the every day workaday world and adorning myself with my hippy/Goddess regalia)
The slide continues. It continues until such time that I think-eat-do, nothing else. Then, the penultimate sign that I have surrendered, body and soul to my addiction… I set the tent up in my living room and begin sleeping in it to get an idea of how much I should take with me. Once this has been determined, I shift all out into my car… to see if it will all fit. Once safely stowed in my car, I tell myself it makes more sense to just leave it there. My friends begin to ask each other if I have lost my job and am living in my car.
I freely admit now that I have reached complete lack of control (FEST-CON IV). I hope and pray that I make it with some degree of sanity to that blessed day that I point my car south and begin the trek to Telluride. I hope and pray that I do not get 8 speeding tickets on the way down to that lovely box canyon, driving fast because I want to get there “RIGHT NOW!” I hope and pray that the forced “cold turkey” withdrawal from the Forum is as effective as it has been in years past.
Finally, I hope and pray that my friends, family, employer and all others experiencing a negative impact from my addiction will forgive me, and accept me back into their non-understanding arms for the next 9 months…
xoxo
<------- Queen Poobah Goddess
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