Staving off the Hunger

Connection junkies come in all shapes and sizes, as many shapes and sizes as there are people. Some connection junkies are very obvious in how they play out their addiction. They cling in very open ways to almost everyone they come into contact with. They lift people up onto fantastical pedestals where the innocent pawn’s humanity is irrelevant. Even though they may hardly know you, they may have high expectations of how you are going to live up to your role. Of course, this behaviour leads to many betrayals and letdowns, and creates a museum of Judases.

However, there are other less obvious connection junkies, whose behaviour almost seems to suggest that they are not addicted to human connection. These are the people that rarely socialise, and isolate themselves for long periods of time. Their behaviour seems to suggest that they don’t need people and don’t need human company, as if they don’t desire that kind of stimulation.

This behaviour is like a magic charm, whereby, the participant hopes to convince them self of that very thing. They starve themselves of something that all human beings require in some measure for an ordinary balanced life. It may seem, and they would be adamant about this, that they do not require what others require, as if they are wired differently. However, the truth of the addiction will always slip through in other behind-the-scene behaviours.


Often, with these closet connection junkies, they satisfy their needs for company and affection, and their desire to care, nurture or parent, with non-humans [pets or strays]. I am not suggesting acts of bestiality here, just innocent acts of much needed affection. These interactions with non-humans stave off the desires for human interaction, and more importantly, avert the likelihood of misunderstandings, obligations and social guilt that the person has encountered in their past.


Instead of going on a journey, whereby the person re-learns, re-evaluates, and re-lives new patterns, that shed social guilt and the inevitable dissatisfaction that comes with it, they enter a stasis. Within in this stasis, nothing changes, and the person does not grow. The instincts remain the same, and so, when the person does venture out into the populated world again, they encounter all the same kinds of old familiar feelings; the kind of feelings that had them hiding away in the first place.


It is not that animals are much different from humans [they eat and shit and fuck, they are competitive, and they seek to meet their needs at all cost] the only difference is that the connection junkie projects less expectation onto them. They are spared the pedestals and the significance. 

The connection junkie may claim that they don’t expect anything from humans, but, often this is a protective statement, much like the person that exclaims, “I don’t give a shit!” when they blatantly do. “I don’t expect anything” covers up the disappointed fantasy of the better parent, which then gets transferred on to the better friend, or the better partner.



Underneath the numb façade lie catacombs, full of the bones of interred wishes.

Back to the Drawing Board

It seems to me, that we humanoids often live life, on the basis of some kind of primordial blueprint about how life ought to be. This includes all the fittings and fixtures, which in this case, are the people and circumstances. We often walk around like frustrated architects, grumbling about how the building isn’t going according to the plan we have. The real thing doesn’t match the blueprint.

The thing is, when it comes to our own lives, we don’t have any builders working for us. We might like to have a team of builders and craftsmen, who are devoted to helping us accomplish our goals, but we don’t.

And so, it seems like the building site of our lives is one, where all the others around us, have their own blueprints. Their blueprints don’t match ours. The only person that is going to be able to build anything like what you have in your plan is you.

If you do attempt to keep living your life, along the blueprint-builders line, you will become increasingly frustrated, as it becomes increasingly apparent, that those other people on your site, aren’t actually there to help you. They’re not even there to make you a cup of tea, although they might.

You might also find that the designs on the blueprints you were using, on the basis that all those other people around you were there to assist, are no longer achievable. You can either grind yourself into the ground, trying to build the mansion you had in mind, or, you can downsize and build something that won’t kill you.

So, what does this mean for us?

It means, we might become less frustrated, annoyed, angry and disappointed, if we stop operating from the pretext that life ought to be a particular way, or that the people around us, ought to be pleasing or appeasing us, in some way or other. They aren’t. They simply aren’t.

It also means that we might want to reassess the standards that we are judging our lives by. If we are building our happiness, pleasure, contentment or satisfaction, on the foundation of others conforming with our ideals, then we are setting ourselves up for a life of frustration and resentment, with at least a little sprinkling of bitterness. 

Some of us have already realised that there aren't any others involved in our building schemes, and are now mournfully sitting with their crumpled up blueprints, looking listless and forlorn.

So, what are we to do?

It means assessing and reassessing the circumstances of our lives, letting go of at least some, if not all of our weightier wishes, and start working with what we’ve got.

It means that we may well ditch the Corinthian portico, plinth and pillars, and build a log cabin.