After an hour or so, I couldn’t help but stifle a yawn. This story, which I had already heard in its entirety, seemed to both be dragging and multiplying. Plus, every time me or the couple I was sitting next too – also listening with half-bored expressions on their faces – said, “Give her the boot!”, my friend nodded, said, “Yeah, I know I should” and then would go right back to his harrowing tale of drug-infused and self-worth-crushing “relationship” drama.

I put “relationship” in quotations because this thing he was describing was some sort of toxic entity that I’m not sure should ever be classified as a relationship. Maybe an addiction, or a bi-polar episode of epic proportions. It was unfortunate, really, as what surrounded us as we listened was lush, hilly countryside, a private lake that cradled our bodies for the afternoon, and a wraparound deck that held us as the temp dropped to that lazy summer sweet spot.

In the end (well, really, for most of the story), the words that crossed my mind continuously were “addicted to the drama.” I mean seriously, if you pay for someone to go to Jazz Fest in New Orleans with you, and she’s popping so many drugs that she’s wandering off every 10 minutes, randomly making out with other guys and girls and trading outfits with other women on the street, allowing you to pay for a rental car for two weeks because her car blew out on the way there, and then wouldn’t ride with you for the 8-hour drive to drop the car off, what the hell else could it be?

Given, the life of a serious wild-child (she’s 37 with three kids, by the way) is interesting to hear about. Once. I even had moment of wistfully remembering back when I dabbled in a few hardcore drugs – one at a time, mind you – and the excitement of feeling that intensity of consciousness, love, belief. Then I quickly remembered the progressively long hangovers, days of a feeling that can’t quite be explained, other than to say you’d rather just go ahead and be roadkill. And the woman is an ER nurse, for chrissakes.

We’re all Addicts

Anyway, the specifics really are beside the point. The point is, just like my friend, a whole lot of us are addicted to drama. It’s especially prevalent when it comes to romantic relationships, but it’s also there in friendships, work, home, exercise, even “rejuvenating” vacations. The ups and downs of life seem to come and go like a caffeine hit and subsequent crash – every four hours and a ridiculously addictive process.

I’m totally a drama addict. I mean, I’m a 4 – is there any possible way that I wouldn’t be this life go-round? No, but even as I see how it has slowly subsided over the years (and after a lot of work), I can still sometimes miss the points in my own life where my drama queen rears. Feeling like I have to work too hard for what I get paid (hmpf!). Noticing the depressive stance I take when I haven’t connected to someone I want to (“What is my problem? Why can’t I relate to anyone in this whole entire universe??”). Thinking I suck at my job when someone reacts negatively to something I’ve written or said (“Why did I ever think I could even string two words together?). Drama, drama, drama.

While it is so damn obvious to me that my friend feels more alive with jolting adrenaline when he gets used and abused by his girlfriend (who, as an aside, first invited him to a concert tonight and then dis-invited him, in the same beat that she asked if he could babysit her kids since he wasn’t going. And yeah, he said yes.), I often forget about the adrenaline crash I feel when I attach to something I believe I deserve and then don’t get it.

Depletion Vs. Contentment

I’m not here to say we shouldn’t have dreams, or focus on what we want. I totally believe in these things, and think they are necessary for success in life. But when you are so attached to a specific outcome at a specific time, it is almost bound to deplete you in the end, even if it feels really, really good during the process. The Buddhist practice of non-attachment, with the notion that it is attachment which creates our sorrow, not the situations themselves, makes me always think, “the higher you go, the harder you fall.”

We also need to look at what we can learn about ourselves in these drama-filled situations, which is not what we usually do (“it’s all that muthaf’ers fault”). The people that come into our lives are mirrors for us, for our our insecurities, our self-esteem, our triggers and egos. These are parts of ourselves that continuously need composting throughout our lives so that our souls can continue to evolve. Otherwise, we’re just stuck, and what the hell would be the point of living?

I can see what I consider a deeper sense of happiness – contentment - in my life by disengaging from drama when I feel I can (yep, meditation is about the only thing that works for me). There’s also the act of channeling drama into something creative and worthwhile. Channeling or disengaging is not all the time, mind you, and I think I would shrivel up and die if I didn’t at least have just a little. That’s the friggin’ spice of life, right? But as with anything, drama needs to be balanced with, you guessed it, calm, if we even moderately hope to take care of our health and well-being.

And dating a baby’s-mama-druggin-money-grubbin’-player is NOT the way to well-being, in case you were wondering.