The many faces of addiction

The many faces of Addiction:

Addiction takes many faces, often in forms that are hard to recognize until we’re deep within them. When I first met Verna, I admired her courage. She was open about giving up drugs and smoking, and her desire to stop drinking. Her honesty was disarming, her ability to speak freely about the things most people keep hidden left me in awe. I thought I had no such burdens, certainly none that threatened my health. But as I reflect on my past, I now see I was wrong—I, too, had an addiction, one that society welcomes with open arms: shopping.

I used to tell myself it was fine, that I’d earned it. I worked hard and deserved to spoil myself. Buying things brought a temporary rush, a moment of satisfaction. I would drive to Cape Town and return with a bakkie full of items for myself and the farm, feeling a sense of accomplishment in accumulating these things. It was easy to justify. But over time, I realized my addiction was more insidious, masked as something harmless. Shopping wasn’t about the things themselves; it was about filling a void I didn’t know how to heal.

What was I trying to mend in myself? Was it the years of living alone on the farm, the lingering wounds of a painful divorce, the scars from a traumatic past? I bought things to feel safe, to create a sense of control in a world that had often left me shaken. But the fulfillment was always fleeting, and the emptiness would inevitably return.

In recent years, as I’ve gradually released my need for material comfort, I’ve begun to recognize how addiction can lurk in the most familiar corners of life, often going unnoticed. Society has a way of wrapping certain addictions in acceptance, making them not just permissible but even desirable. Without realizing it, we can shift from one addiction to the next, thinking we’ve broken free, when in reality, we’ve simply reshaped our hunger into something new, a craving with a different face but the same grip.

But here’s what I’ve learned—self-awareness is a continuous journey. The work of understanding ourselves never ends, and that’s not something to be feared. While I’ve let go of my addiction to shopping, I’m still navigating others. And that’s okay. There is strength in knowing that the path to healing is lifelong. I’m no longer afraid of that process, no longer rushing to replace the emptiness with things. Instead, I’m learning to sit with it, to face it, and to grow from it.

Both our journeys showed me that true freedom from addiction often comes when the decision is inspired, not forced. When it’s driven by willpower alone, it’s much harder to have clarity. Inspiration, not obligation, is what carries us through. It’s quiet support and space, not forcing that makes it last.

Proud to say that Verna has been clean of any addictions to drugs and alcohol for almost six years.

I am so profoundly grateful to have a wife like Verna. Her honesty about herself, her emotions, and her journey is something I admire deeply. She is a pillar of strength and a constant source of inspiration, especially as I’ve embarked on this massive journey of decluttering—not just in my physical space, but on so many levels within myself. Verna’s support is unwavering, her presence a constant reminder that transformation is possible. Her decluttering skills are nothing short of extraordinary. She has this innate ability to clear space not just in our home, but in our hearts. I’ll write more about her in time, because she deserves all the words I can give.

To anyone struggling with addiction or feeling overwhelmed by the clutter in your life—whether it’s your home, your heart, or the people around you—know that you can do this. It doesn’t have to happen all at once, and you don’t need to rush or force the process. True, lasting change takes time and patience. Be kind to yourself as you take each step, no matter how small. The path to decluttering—whether it’s breaking free from addiction or clearing the emotional weight we carry—unfolds in its own time. Trust the process, allow yourself to grow at your own pace, and remember that each bit of progress matters. You are capable of more than you realize.

Thank you to my endlessly creative wife for covering me in designer plasters, each one a symbolic reflection of stuff, until I realized I didn’t need any of it to fill a void.

Written by: Laresa Perlman