SECTION 1: YOUR ADDICT VS. YOUR TRUE SELF

A Few Words About the A-Word

My dear Addict friends, my use of the term "addict" isn't meant to shame you. It’s a word I’m using to characterize an entrenched pattern of self-destructive behaviors, along with the thoughts and feelings that prompt them. You can think of Your Addict as a crooked, unhinged, power-hungry personality who’s usurped Your True Self as the acting CEO of your life — and it’s well on its way to running it into the ground. 

Let me assure you that Your Addict isn’t who you are, though it definitely exists within you. It’s essential to understand that Your Addict has a personality unto itself, which has come to progressively overpower both the free will and the heart and soul of Your True Self. 

With that said, my dear Addict friends, I love you. I am you. And I want to help you overthrow Your Addict and put Your True Self back in charge.

Speaking as both an addiction therapist and a recovering addict myself, though, I understand if you’re reluctant to wear the scarlet letter “A.” Accepting the existence of Your Addict can be a terrifying prospect. Let alone admitting that it’s taken complete control of your will, your common sense, and everything you hold dear.

Scary, yes — especially if Your Addict has a long history of keeping you in a stranglehold of secrecy and shame. That’s why my objective here will be to help you break through that fear and shame. 

As you immerse yourself in the loving little world of this book, please remember that it’s just us crazy addicts around here, so there’s no need to wear a bag over your head, or even an N95 that conveniently disguises your emotional reactions. By all means, kick off your pinching, ill-fitting shoes that try so hard to convey, I’m doing fine and I’m totally normal, really I am! 

Feel free to fling your stinky, callused Addict feet over the warm and fuzzy ottoman of my unconditional acceptance. 

My job here is to hold up a mirror to you. One of those incredibly well-lit mirrors, that is, that's going to cut through your cloak of shame and denial, and illuminate your beautiful spirit that lies beneath. 

But my agenda of shame-busting isn’t justfor vanity’s sake. It’s to help you let go of your fear of seeing the truthabout yourself — dark, scary parts and all. That’s essential, because the only way you can begin to solvea problem is to acknowledge that there is a problem. 

And when it comes to addiction, the problem lies within.

Maybe some of you have already acknowledged the problem that is Your Addict, having long ago surrendered the illusion that you could control your drinking, drugging, or some other addictive behavior. Perhaps you’ve even gone one further by starting to live in the solution, one terrifying, tenuous, or tedious sober day at a time.

If that’s the case, congratulations! Thank you for allowing me to be your guide here on the road of recovery, with nonstop service to peace, freedom, and happiness. Turbulence may be an inevitable part of the journey, but life in recovery is ultimately anything butterrifying, tenuous, or tedious.

This book is also for all you questioning, might-be addicts out there. Maybe you're seeking insight into that dark and scary part of yourself. Perhaps you have a hunch that you might be a teensy-weensy bit addicted. You‘ve been Dr. Googling search terms like, does getting three DUIs make me an alcoholic? or, can you get addicted to weed? 

If that describes you, chances are, you’ve already Internet-stumbled upon the eleven criteria for addictive disorders in the principal authority for psychological disorders, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, Fifth Edition (DSM-V). You’ve reviewed the criteria dozens of times, hoping to diagnose (or absolve) yourself. 

I’ve paraphrased the DSM-V criteria here:

You’ve been using your drug more often, and for longer amounts of time, than you used to. 

You’re constantly trying to quit or control your use of your drug, without success. 

You’re spending a lot of time thinking about your drug, or recovering from using it.

You experience strong cravings for your drug.

Your drug prevents you from carrying out your regular responsibilities.

Your drug causes problems in your relationships. 

Your drug prevents you from enjoying the activities you used to enjoy. 

Your drug puts you in dangerous situations. 

Your drug is damaging your physical and/or mental health. 

You have an increased tolerance for your drug, meaning that you have to use more of it, or at a greater intensity or frequency, to get the desired effect. 

You experience withdrawal symptoms when you aren’t using your drug. 

These criteria are going to sound eerily familiar to those of you who are ready to get real about what’s going on. 

I see you, my dear Addict friend, lying prostrate on your bed with a half-empty Dr. Pepper to your left, and a fifth of gin to your right. Your curtains are drawn; it’s three in the afternoon. Notifications are piling up on your phone. You’ve officially withdrawn from life. You’re cradling this book with your free hand, the one that’s not clutching a bottle. Your pillow is damp with drool, or tears. Maybe both.

You nodded like a bobblehead at all, or nearly all, of the DSM-V criteria. You have no shame admitting this, because you’re at a point where shame is beside the point. Even death seems preferable to remaining in Your Addict’s clutches another minute. 

Or maybe you pored over the DSM-V criteria, considered them, then lobbed your responses back defensively. Nope, nope, nope, that doesn’t describe me! you said, your voice betrayed by a tremor of uncertainty. You couldn’t help feeling a chill from the shadow of doubt that’s lurking around your ironclad fence of denial. 

Obviously, I can’t diagnose you from where I’m sitting. But I can tell you that if you’re in any amount of emotional pain, or if you’ve experienced more than a few unpleasant life consequences as a result of Your Addict’s insane, out-of-control behavior, then you might want to keep reading. Just in case. 

In My Book, a Drug Is a Drug Is a Drug

In my work as an addiction and recovery therapist, I don’t just see clients who are addicted to drugs and alcohol. I also work with people who are struggling with compulsive sexual behavior, whether that involves pornography, masturbation, infidelity, visiting sex workers, exhibitionism, or voyeurism. I also treat clients with a history of compulsive gambling, whether that means playing cards at casinos, or online games, or sports betting, or scratch tickets, or any activity in which they’re putting money on an outcome.

Alcohol. Gambling. Porn. Pills. Even video games. Whatever it is, it can be to you what I’m calling in this book a drug. If you’ve been using it or doing it compulsively, if it causes problems in your life, and if you’re still unable to stop or control it whenyou realize it’s causing problems, then I call it an addiction — to a drug —regardless of what that drug is. 

The purpose of this book isn’t to analyze the concept of addiction to death. It’s to help you understand what it means to live in recovery from it. Because a peaceful, free, and happy life is your birthright, no matter whatkind of drug has been enslaving you.

It’s baffling to me that this broad, inclusive view on the concept of addictive drugsis a controversial perspective in the world of clinical and research psychology. I know at least one therapist in my area, for instance, who stopped speaking to me after I told him that I treat sexually compulsive behaviors as an addiction. I guess that’s because “sexual addiction” still isn’t classified in the DSM-V as a psychological disorder. 

Let me tell you, though, it’s proved incredibly helpful for my sex addiction clients to be able to put a name to their painful, out-of-control behavior, and to learn how to apply a recovery framework to their lives, the same way other recovering addicts do. Ditto for the video game addicts I’ve worked with. 

As a therapist, I believe in keeping addiction treatment simple. The primary characteristic of addiction isthe problematic loss of controlover one’s use of a certain substance, or engagement in a certain behavior. That’s why I believe that a drug is a drug is a drug for someone whose brain has been fundamentally changed over weeks, months, or years by the compulsive use or engagement with that drug — as evidenced by their problematic loss of control over it. 

So throughout this book, and the others to come in The Addict's Guide to the Universe series, I’m going to call it like it is: your drug, based on how it functions in the brain of an addict. Knowing that, maybe now is a good time to recognize which drug your drug refers to. Is it alcohol? Pornography? Cocaine? Gambling? Or, perhaps, a combo pack of several different behaviors and/or substances?

The bottom line is that it’s not what it is, it’s what it doesto you that makes it a drug. 

Let’s keep it simple, shall we? If desire or desperation is telling you (or screaming at you) that you want and need to be free from your drug, then by all means, call yourselfan addict. Don’t do that to shame yourself, or to take it on as your entire identity. Do it because identifying as an addict who’s got to deal with the problem of your drug puts you on the road of the solution: recovery. 

Do it, my dear Addict friends, because the truth will set you free. You’ll see.

Just a note in the name of full disclosure, though: I have not worked with clients in the area of eating disorders, or self-harm, or obsessive-compulsive, ritualistic behaviors, except where those have presented alongside one or more of the substance or behavioral addictions I outlined above. It’s not that eating disorders, or self-harm, or OCD don’t share many of the same characteristics of addiction. It’s simply that those conditions have not been the focus of my professional practice, and you should know that.

Your Addict Isn’t Who You Are

Maybe Your Addict has scaly skin and beady eyes. Maybe it talks all slick and smooth, like a timeshare salesman. Maybe it has a menacing mechanical hand, like Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget. 

Personally, I think of My Addict as a toxic ex-boyfriend I’ve got to stay the hell away from. When life gets dull or difficult, it’s tempting to think back wistfully on the good times we shared: the excitement, the pleasure, and the escape from reality. But whenever the thought of my toxic ex starts to seem all sexy and romantic again, I have to remind myself of all the pain he caused me. How he was never okay with me just being myself. How he always wanted me to be someone with no feelings, no needs, and no control over the direction of our relationship. How we went around and around in cycles of codependent craziness, coming up against the same dead ends every time. 

I have to remember that even though My Addict may always be lurking around, trying to tempt me to come back, that doesn’t mean I should go back. My Addict will always be the same sleazy, loveless asshole he always was, a pretty parasite happy to exploit me for his own selfish gain. 

I know that’s pretty damning as far as metaphors go, but that’s the point. You already know that Your Addict isn’t pretty. My point is that Your Addict isn’t you. 

I’ve already said that Your Addict has a personality unto itself. The thing about personalities is that they’re hard-wired to repeat themselves to produce a desired result: survival. And just like any other personality, Your Addict functions as a pattern of thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that play out in predictable ways, with the goal of keeping itself alive.

Here’s where Your Addict’s personality goes off the rails, though. It isn’t geared toward your survival or well-being. Your Addict’s lone objective is to get itself fed with your drug — whether that’s alcohol, pills, gambling, pornography, or a good ol’ smorgasbord of addictive substances and behaviors. 

Feed me! Your Addict hisses at you. To hell with your well-being and survival!

Indeed, Your Addict is a hungry beast, and a cunning one at that. It’ll pelt you with the perfect storm of self-defeating beliefs, emotional triggers, and situational prompts to use your drug, thereby ensuring not only its survival, but its growth. 

Case in point: the characteristic way Your Addict handles problems. (Spoiler: it’s terrible with problems.) Your Addict will think and stew and agonize over a problem in isolation, which is tantamount to leaving it on an interminable, high-heat spin cycle. Obsessing about the problem causes it to expand to massive proportions, so the problem begins to meld with your identity, inseparable from you. It begins to feel utterly unsolvable. That makes you feel awful, because now it's you who's unsolvable, and ashamed of who you are: a piece of shit who can’t solve their own problems. Am I right?

Dreading any contact with that awful, unsolvable problem, Your Addict will do its damndest to prevent you from asking for help so you can actually deal with the problem. God forbid you should talk about it honestly with anyone. Doing so would mean outing yourself as shameful and unsolvable. 

Needless to say, most problems approached in this fashion, including addiction itself, tend to go unsolved. 

But hey! Why bother solving problems when Your Addict is ready and waiting with a quick and easy remedy to numb the pain of those problems? That’s where your drug comes in, of course. Quick and easy, yes — but with a non-negotiable side of soul-sucking, life-destroying consequences. 

So you curse Your Addict, that con artist, who always makes it seem like your drug is the answer to all your problems. You swear you’ll never listen to it again. But man, is Your Addict convincing. It’s seductive, like a toxic lover. You fall for it, time and time again, going against your better judgment, your values, your intentions, and everything and everyone you love. 

Are you convinced yet that Your Addict is the problem? Good. I’ll say it again: the first step toward solving a problem is admitting that there is a problem. 

The next step, understanding how to solve the problem, will require you to have a basic understanding of how Your Addict came to be, and who it had to kill, maim, or seduce to get where it is today. Basically, Your Addict started out like one of those little capsules that kids put in water. You know, the ones that slowly expand into a giant sponge shaped like a Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

There’s no way to get the T. Rex back in the capsule, is there? 

That’s what happened with you and your drug. You had a taste of it, and it felt good. It enhanced your sense of pleasure, or helped you avoid pain, or both. Then your poor, gullible limbic system — the part of your brain that controls motivation and emotion — sprung into action to re-create that experience, because man, remember how good that feeling was? Remember how it helped you feel pleasure, and avoid pain?

From there, Your Addict grew up big and strong. Get ready for a medley of metaphors, because they all apply. Your Addict is like a vacuum, and like all vacuums, it seeks to fill itself. Your Addict is like a tapeworm living inside you, whose appetite keeps getting bigger and bigger. But mostly, Your Addict is a leech in need of a host to supply and protect it. 

That’s where Your True Self comes in.