All the Way to the River: Love, Loss, and Liberation

“And who has not reached for substances, people, behaviors, or distractions that offer temporary respite from the built-in discomforts of existence itself? What we commonly call an ‘addict,’ I believe, is just an exaggerated version of all of us—just a person so desperately in search of relief from the sting of life that they will use anything (or anyone) to soothe it. This book is about that search for relief, and how wild and depraved it can make us become.”

Gilbert portrays addiction as an “exaggerated version” of everyday habits as people seek comfort and distraction from life’s problems. This passage asks the reader to see addiction as contiguous with universal aspects of human experience. The rhetorical question—“who has not reached […]” emphasizes the universal need for some means of escape from “the built-in discomforts of existence itself.

“Because here’s what happens when you give a lot of money to a crazy codependent person: They do crazy codependent things with it. When those big, fat Eat Pray Love royalty checks started rolling in, my distorted thinking informed me that I was undeserving of all this abundance: Why was I so blessed when others still struggled?…Codependents have terribly low self-esteem, you see, and we don’t know how to take care of ourselves. We also have a need to take responsibility for other people, because we live in certainty that nobody else out there can take care of themselves, either—or, at least, not without our constant and anxious interference.”

Gilbert explains her codependent tendencies and how they motivated her to give away so much money. In hindsight, she recognizes that this generosity was a way of helping her feel worthy and in control. By reflecting on her compulsive generous, Gilbert highlights the theme of Sex and Romance as Addictive Behaviors.

“In other ways, though, I became more codependent than ever. On the surface, I appeared to be a confident young go-getter. But my inner life was, as it had always been, a tremulous fear-scape. I was neither mature nor emotionally secure, and I wasn’t yet ready for the demands of adulthood. Hidden beneath all my apparent ingenuity was a terrified child constantly asking, ‘Who’s got me? Who will keep me safe? Where do I belong?’ And thus I began my lifelong quest to make other people into my home.”

Gilbert believes that her sex and love addiction is rooted in her constant feelings of fear and insecurity. By connecting her inner fears with her outer actions, Gilbert connects the dots for the reader about why she pursues romantic relationships so compulsively.

“What is the overgiver getting out of this obviously imbalanced arrangement? Or at least, what do they think they’re getting? Because nobody overgives for no reason—even if those reasons are deeply hidden or disguised as acts of pure altruism. So what is the payoff, exactly? In my case, the payoff has always been love—or at least, the desperate hope of love.”

Gilbert uses a series of rhetorical questions to dissect how what appears to be genuine generosity might actually be “overgiving,” or giving at one’s own expense to secure love and validation. By differentiating between real altruism and overgiving, the author suggests that overgivers play a dangerous game as they give their time, energy, and money to others in the hope of being loved in return. This discussion adds to her theme of The Self-Destructive Nature of Excessive Devotion.

“And in my secret life, I wasn’t doing so hot. I wasn’t acting out in my sex and love addiction, but I was almost never not tense and afraid. I was hardly ever not worried that my life was going in the completely wrong direction, that I had made all the wrong choices, that I was a fraud, that there was something fundamentally bad and wrong about me, and that I should be ashamed of myself.”

Gilbert’s surprising admissions about her “secret life” show that even as a successful author, she privately struggled with worry and shame. This passage paints Gilbert as someone who can effectively hide their real struggles, adding to her self-portrayal as a sensitive - and secretive - person with an addiction.

“Because Rayya had been so immediately authentic, everyone else got to be authentic, too, shedding their carefully arranged public personas and becoming loose and free. And I got to sit back for the rest of the afternoon and take a rare break from trying to keep everyone happy, because Rayya was doing it for me—and she was doing it without even trying. Over time, I would learn that this moment had not been an anomaly. Rayya was indeed a social magician who could make anyone feel at ease, who was funny and direct and warm, and who always cut right to the center of human realness.”

Gilbert’s funny and moving stories about Rayya humanize her and add context and nuance to their love story. Rayya’s role as a “social magician” in Gilbert’s life gave her a feeling of security and happiness, helping the reader understand her growing attachment to her friend.

“If Rayya was in the room, I stopped feeling like I had to work the room in order to survive. I stopped feeling like I had to cover my ass, or read everyone’s minds, or charm everyone into submission, or ceaselessly monitor the microexpressions on everybody’s faces in order to make sure that all the humans (the most unpredictable and chaotic species on the planet) were kept calm and happy at all times.”

Gilbert began to rely on Rayya’s personal and social strength. By connecting Rayya’s presence with her own feelings, Gilbert shares her understanding of how her beautiful friendship with Rayya morphed into a codependent, dysfunctional relationship.

“Because secrecy is the greenhouse in which addiction blooms, flourishes, and metastasizes. The unfortunate reality of addiction, though, is that all active addicts keep secrets and tell lies. They really have no choice: An addict must lie in order to protect her supply. You cannot be an active addict without lying, because your interior world would collapse if you didn’t have access to the substance, person, or behavior that regulates your nervous system, and your exterior world would collapse if people knew what you were up to—because what you are up to is not socially acceptable.”

Gilbert portrays lying as an inherent part of addiction. This passage contrasts lying and addiction with openness and recovery, helping the reader understand the everyday lives of people dealing with addictions as well as Gilbert’s decision to be so open in her memoir.

“The complicated truth, then, is that I fell in love with Rayya for a set of very understandable reasons—but over time I came to love her with the famished lunacy of a true addict. But that only happened because I had a secret operating system based in fear and need that was running in the background of all our interactions, governing my decision-making from the most shadowy recesses of my mind and pushing me in directions that were unsafe, unethical, and dishonest.”

The author expresses ambivalence about her complex relationship with Rayya. By acknowledging the positive and negative motivations for her actions, the author adds realism to her work, neither romanticizing her actions nor villainizing them. Her self-judgment as a “true addict” adds to her theme on Sex and Romance as Addictive Behaviors, as she acknowledges that her undiagnosed addiction prompted her to make poor decisions.

“Later that night, alone in my hotel room, I wept with longing for Rayya, but I also wept in fear of what was happening to my life. I was becoming unmanageable again. I was losing control. Arrange your face. Put it away. Stuff it down. Hide, hide, hide.”

Gilbert reveals that her secret life became more shameful and upsetting as she fell deeper in love with her friend. By reflecting on her repression and secrecy, the author shows the immense burden of her addiction as she was scared of the upheaval and social judgment she would incur by facing the truth of her feelings and her compulsive behaviors.

“I must be careful of how I judge Rayya—and I must be careful, as well, of how I judge my younger self for what she could not or would not see about the dangers of this situation. Without the mitigating presence of mercy, hindsight can make me into something like a cruel deity, fiercely condemning these ignorant mortals for what they did not know: How could you have been so stupid and reckless?”

Gilbert’s desire to be merciful to Rayya and herself gives her work a gentle tone. By resisting judgment and insisting on mercy, Gilbert continues to emphasize the lessons she has learned from God as a Source of Humility and Self-Acceptance. This passage depicts judgment as the opposite of humility and mercy, inviting the reader to suspend their judgment as well.

“Because that’s how you stay sober: You have got to let somebody know the things you don’t want anybody to know. Otherwise, your shadow self will keep running the show from the dankest corners of your mind, growing ever stronger in the darkness, poised for any opportunity to strike and take you down once more—and perhaps forever this time.”

The author discusses the importance of sharing one’s deepest secrets, using personification to portray her addiction as a “shadow self” hiding in the “dankest corners” of the mind. Gilbert portrays secrecy as an inherently toxic part of addiction. This discussion suggests that Gilbert’s memoir is a valuable part of her recovery, as openly sharing her experiences allows her to eliminate her secret life, leaving her with a more honest public and private life.

“Everything would have to change now. Everything would have to be confessed. I did not know how I was going to do any of this. I did not see how I could survive it. But here is what I can clearly see about that moment, looking back on it now: When I finally stopped crying and stood up from that bed, my marriage was already over.”

Gilbert describes the difficult moment of learning that her then-best friend Rayya was diagnosed with terminal cancer. This realization prompted Gilbert to finally reveal her true romantic feelings for her friend, thereby ending her marriage and beginning a new relationship with Rayya. Gilbert’s memories reveal her emotional intensity and help the reader envision the desperation and grief that motivated her decisions at this time.

“I remember every spectacular moment of it! What I remember most about that time is how electric I felt. My entire body and imagination were thrumming with the prospect of living without any limits or rules whatsoever—of doing whatever the hell we wanted; of throwing off the shackles of respectability and responsibility; of burning up the last few months of Rayya’s life as her literal ‘ride or die’ lover…”

Gilbert and Rayya enjoyed a few months of uninhibited living after Rayya’s diagnosis. Gilbert’s description captures the euphoric feelings they both experienced, borrowing the language of addiction to portray this period as a “high” before the inevitable crash. By showing how she entwined her actions and feelings so completely with Rayya’s, Gilbert adds to her theme on The Self-Destructive Nature of Excessive Devotion.

“Just to be clear: Rayya was the one who officially had no future, but I was now acting as if I didn’t have one, either. In the same way that Rayya had once discarded her entire existence for cocaine and heroin, I now discarded my entire existence for Rayya. I dropped everything I was working on and completely forgot about anything I had ever cared about before her cancer diagnosis.”

Gilbert admits that her devotion to Rayya’s happiness completely consumed her life. By describing how she “discarded” her own needs and pursuits, the author acknowledges that she began overgiving at her own expense, allowing her obsession with Rayya to dominate her life. This passage bolsters Gilbert’s theme of The Self-Destructive Nature of Excessive Devotion as she explains how she crossed the line from being a supportive friend and partner to being completely codependent.

“I took great pride during those first few months of Rayya’s disease in how good I was at being her caregiver…At times I felt that I was not even human anymore; I was just an action of competent, patient, useful love. I was nobody and nothing, but I was also everything to the person I loved beyond measure.”

Gilbert’s vision of herself as a perfect caregiver reveals how she found validation and identity in being Rayya’s emotional and financial support in her final days. By making her own identity revolve around Rayya’s, Gilbert unwittingly fed her love and sex addiction. This passage adds to the author’s theme of The Self-Destructive Nature of Excessive Devotion.

“I was trapped in hell, and I could see no way out. Our beautiful, sunny two-bedroom penthouse apartment in the East Village—which I had rented for Rayya to make her happy in the last months of her life—had become a dungeon of misery, danger, degradation, drugs.”

When Rayya became hooked on street drugs to cope with her cancer pain, the couple came crashing down from their mutual high. Gilbert contrasts her romantic intentions with the “dungeon of misery” which soon became their reality. By showing how overgiving and codependence led her and Rayya to this frightening state, the author shows that such extreme and addictive relational habits can yield extreme results.

“I woke up filled with weariness and a sense of deep failure: I had not been able to go into the cold, dark, and lonely place with her, and rescue her from there. I feel so guilty! Because she always rescues me, when I am in the cold, dark, and lonely place. I am a failure. I am fucking exhausted.”

Gilbert’s diary entry while taking care of Rayya reveals her high expectations of herself as a partner and caregiver. Gilbert’s unhealthy level of devotion to Rayya—and the price she paid with her mental health—illustrate The Self-Destructive Nature of Excessive Devotion.

“I can’t even tell you when my love addiction got triggered with Rayya, or when I collapsed into the utter abandonment of self that is codependency in its most deadly and life-destroying form. I can’t name the exact moment when I made her into my higher power, or when I surrendered all my will and agency to her, or when I decided that it was my job in life to serve her every desire—no matter how much it cost me, physically, emotionally, or financially.”

Gilbert admits that her own tendencies are difficult to fully dissect and understand, even with the benefit of hindsight. This passage characterizes addictions such as Gilbert’s as powerful and blinding, as well as potentially devastating. By calling codependency “deadly and life-destroying,” the author urges the reader to take process addictions like hers as seriously as substance use addictions (202).

“It was in this climate of ferocious insanity that I decided I had to murder Rayya. I came up with the plan late one night when she had been awake for many hours, staring into a mirror with her eye only one inch away from the reflective surface, yelling at the demon that she swore she could see in her eye’s reflection—a demon who, she kept insisting, ‘lives all the way down there at the bottom of my brain.’”

This passage depicts both Rayya and Gilbert at their worst moments, with Rayya in the grips of her active addiction to hard drugs, and Gilbert at her mental breaking point. By describing how her feelings towards Rayya shifted from worship to hatred, Gilbert shows that unhealthy, codependent devotion can be destructive for both people in the relationship.

“‘Image management’ is something addicts care a lot about, and I am no exception. But all that had to stop now, because there would be no image left to manage if both Rayya and I ended up dead through murder, suicide, or murder-suicide. I was sobbing and full of shame and anger when I called these people—tears and snot running down my face right there in public—but I called them anyway. And through their responses, God continued to speak to me.”

Grappling with both homicidal and suicidal thoughts, Gilbert finally faced the truth, admitting to herself and others that she was out of depth and had lost control over her life and Rayya’s. At this lowest point, she turns to God as a Source of Humility and Self-Acceptance, a turning point in the narrative.

“It’s the same with love addiction. It always begins in a state of ecstasy—soaring through the cosmos on a comet’s trail of starry-eyed fantasy, disappearing into somebody else’s beauty and breath and being and body, feeling no pain because you have flown so far beyond the limits of mortality. And it always ends the same way—alone on a bathroom floor, ruined, with nothing left but the suffering. Rayya was still flying high on her relapse, but I had already hit rock bottom with mine, and it hurt.”

The author compares her love addiction to substance addictions, noting that both follow the same pattern of extreme highs sinking to devastating lows. By describing her highs as euphoric and otherworldly, the author tries to communicate the extreme mental states brought on by her addictive behaviors. This passage tries to persuade the reader that love and sex addictions are as neurologically powerful as substance addictions like Rayya’s. In doing so, the author bolsters her theme on Sex and Romance as Addictive Behaviors.

“Could I become the provider of my own emotional security? Could I stand up to bullies and boundary pushers without Rayya there as my bodyguard? Could I stand up to Rayya herself, when she became the bully and the boundary pusher?”

Gilbert reveals how Rayya’s descent into active addiction forced her to cope without Rayya’s constant emotional support and, ironically, stand up to her bullying behavior. This passage frames Gilbert’s experience as a lesson and opportunity for self-growth as she learned to stand on her own two feet and be truly honest with Rayya for the first time.