"Illicit Affairs" from Folklore
At Swift Steps, we use lyrics and songs to reflect on our own experiences with addiction, mental health, and recovery—both mine and our members.
This week's song struck a chord with many of us, leading to some amazing discussions and insights. I want to assure you that I will never share what our members discuss because of our confidentiality promises.
However, I do gather my own thoughts before the meetings, and I’m excited to share them with you each week!
“I want to assure you that I will never share what our members discuss because of our confidentiality promises.“
This week’s song is "Illicit Affairs” from Folklore.
If you wanna take a listen:
Verse 1
"Make sure nobody sees you leave
Hood over your head, keep your eyes down
Tell your friends you're out for a run
You'll be flushed when you return"
This is me, slipping away from my life to chase something I knew wasn’t good for me. Addiction has always been this secret I tried to keep, ducking my head and telling people I was fine. I’d make excuses, working late, running errands, when really, I was heading straight into something I couldn’t control. The “flushed” face? That’s the guilt, the shame, the aftermath of trying to numb myself with anything I could find.
"Take the road less traveled by
Tell yourself you can always stop
What started in beautiful rooms
Ends with meetings in parking lots"
“What starts as a relief once or twice spirals into desperate, lonely moments.”
This hits so hard because it’s true. Addiction starts as something that feels like freedom from suffering—a way to escape, a reprieve when life feels too heavy to bear. But that’s all it is: a short, false unburdening. What starts as a relief once or twice spirals into desperate, lonely moments. Sitting in my car in some parking lot, feeling like a ghost of myself, waiting to meet someone for drugs yet again, just to chase another “break” that never lasts. It’s a cycle that strips you down until there’s nothing left but the shame and the emptiness.
Chorus
"And that's the thing about illicit affairs
And clandestine meetings and longing stares
It's born from just one single glance
But it dies, and it dies, and it dies
A million little times"
Addiction starts small. For me it was one pill, one impulsive decision to avoid feeling. It grows from there, spreading into every part of your life until it consumes you. Every lie I told, every promise I broke to myself or someone I loved, felt like another little death. The million pieces of me that died and death isn’t quick—it’s slow and agonizing.
“Every lie I told, every promise I broke to myself or someone I loved, felt like another little death. The million pieces of me that died and death isn’t quick—it’s slow and agonizing.”
Verse 2
"Leave the perfume on the shelf
That you picked out just for him
So you leave no trace behind
Like you don't even exist"
This reminds me of all the times I slowly erased myself, one line crossed at a time. Addiction made me someone I didn’t recognize. At first, it was little things: breaking promises I swore I’d keep, doing something I said I’d never do just this once. But those lines blurred faster than I could redraw them. Before I knew it, I wasn’t just hiding the proof from others, covering my tracks so carefully. Every lie I told, every rule I broke, every excuse I made—it all chipped away at who I thought I was until I wasn’t sure who that really even was anymore.
“Every lie I told, every rule I broke, every excuse I made—it all chipped away at who I thought I was until I wasn’t sure who that really even was anymore. ”
"Take the words for what they are
A dwindling, mercurial high
A drug that only worked
The first few hundred times"
God, this. That dwindling high, the fleeting escape, is the trap. At first, it feels like salvation, like the one thing that makes everything okay. But after a while, it stops working. I’d keep going back, hoping to feel that relief again, but it was never the same. It became less about feeling good and more about just getting through.
Chorus
"And that's the thing about illicit affairs
And clandestine meetings and stolen stares
They show their truth one single time
“Addiction is a liar. It whispers promises—“You’ll feel better,” “Just this once,” “No one has to know”—but it never delivers. ”
But they lie, and they lie, and they lie
A million little times"
Addiction is a liar. It whispers promises—“You’ll feel better,” “Just this once,” “No one has to know”—but it never delivers. The truth sneaks in, but it’s hard to look at. I’d feel it in the quiet moments, but the lies kept pulling me back. I’d tell myself I was fine, that I was in control, but deep down, I knew I was spiraling.
Bridge
"And you wanna scream
Don't call me 'kid'
Don't call me 'baby'
Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me
You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"
At first, the pills were pure euphoria. They took away my physical pain, erased my emotional pain, and for a while, it worked and helped. It wasn’t just relief; it felt good. And I clung to the lie that what I was doing was different. Pills from a doctor’s office couldn’t be like heroin, right? They weren’t what those people did. Addiction wasn’t supposed to happen to someone like me. I bought into the myth that addicts were weak, that it all came down to willpower and choice.
“I bought into the myth that addicts were weak, that it all came down to willpower and choice.”
"Don't call me 'kid'
Don't call me 'baby'
Look at this idiotic fool that you made me
You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else"
But look what a fool it made me. I’m no different than the people I once judged. The pills may have started in a pharmacy, but the descent was the same. I became the person I thought I’d never be, speaking the secret language of addiction: the rituals, the lies, the self-deception. Now, I see them, the people I used to call weak and I don’t see weakness. I see pain, I see humanity, I see myself. And it hurts to know how blind I was.
Outro
"And you know damn well
For you, I would ruin myself
A million little times"
This is the heart of it. I ruined myself for addiction over and over again. I gave up parts of myself, parts of my life, for something that never loved me back. Recovery has been about reclaiming those million little pieces, learning to love myself again, and refusing to let the lies win.
This song breakdown is about the affair I had with my addiction—the intoxicating pull, the lies I told myself, and the parts of me I gave away without even realizing it. It reminds me of the time I lost to that betrayal—the promises broken, the lines crossed, the pieces of my life that scattered like shattered glass. But it also reminds me of the strength it took to come back, to face the wreckage and start rebuilding. Addiction breaks you into a million little pieces, but recovery is about picking up each one, no matter how sharp or painful, and putting yourself back together again. It’s messy, it’s hard, and it’s worth every single step.
“Addiction breaks you into a million little pieces, but recovery is about picking up each one, no matter how sharp or painful, and putting yourself back together again. It’s messy, it’s hard, and it’s worth every single step.”
Feeling connected to this reflection? Join us for our next Swift Steps meeting where we explore the emotional challenges of growth, love, and recovery. Our community is here to support you.
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