The Doer Shield

I’m a day late getting my weekly blog out. I think that’s the first time that’s happened. I’m a task oriented, objective, get the list done kind of guy. There are downsides to that. Especially since my husband died, I tend to forget about having fun. Because the list is always there. But that task-oriented drive within me was (and is) also a bulwark against my addictive tendencies.

When I was young (sigh), I thought I was immune to addiction. That sounds crazy, right? But I was always in survival mode, I worked 70-90 hours a week, I eventually acquired a run-down foreclosed HUD house that required a lot of my youthful energy to fix up, I worked out, I got into gardening and then writing. OMG! I barely had time to breathe, much less spiral time away in an addiction. But the truth was that this “doing” activity was a kind of coping mechanism. That’s probably not quite right, but it did shield me against impulsive addictive responses. I drank heavily on Friday and Saturday nights (though often just the one night since I so often had to work a full day on Saturday). Otherwise, no drinking at all. No drinking on “school” nights. I drank so that I would have a few hours without the pain— not just emotional pain, but low-grade physical pain that was always with me. Except, that all went away when I drank. I was free. I danced. My mind spun into the cosmos.

I might have become an alcoholic. But I had tasks to do!

The addictive behavior was a reward for getting things done. That rule applied to weed as well. When the internet came along, which evolved into click-baiting, I was pulled in. But only so far. Because I had things that had to get done. That pull is still there to this day, trying to draw me in, and for that reason I’ve been on a sabbatical from news sites since Lent (very difficult at first especially since the Iranian War started soon after). Eventually, not drowning in the news all the time left me content. My blood pressure has been better with reduced time on click-baiting content.

I have found doing no news is easier than a little.

I was into gaming. The same principle applied. Back in the day, I played shoot-em-up games, missile command, but what I eventually settled on was Civilization. That game is for me a mental rush, a total dopamine hit, and I would often play for hours with little sense of how much time was passing. “I will play for ten minutes” would become an hour (or more). I was in a spiritual war where the doer part of me clashed with the I just want to tune out with a dopamine rush. The doer part of me won out though I continue to play Civ5 as a reward for getting objectives met.

But when I crossed paths with crack, well, the crack won. I was addicted at the first puff. I was aware of my addictive response. I was shocked. And there was nothing I could do about it. I was hooked. Over the course of 9 months, I drove myself into the pit. My anxiety increased, my heart got speedy, and I started taking beta-blockers as well. My life, my job, my soul was on the brink.

Survival instincts took over. I stopped cold turkey. It’s not something I recommend but it worked for me. I was alone. My heart had weakened on the beta-blockers, and my heart rate got fast and thready. Then there was the withdrawal from the crack. Intense. It was too much for me, and I held a bottle of Goldschläger over my head which poured down my throat until I passed out. I still remember staring up into the pretty gold flakes swirling in the bottle as the alcohol poured out (mostly) into my mouth. Fortunately, the bottle didn’t strike my head on the way down. The next week especially took everything I had and then some. I still had to work. I’m not sure how I managed it. Honestly, I have no memory of it though when I was driving home, on the freeway, I think around day 4 or 5, I started to pass out and I managed to get to the entrance of the Bellaire hospital where I collapsed/fainted.

At times, I prayed for death. I also made a covenant with God that I would no longer use if God would see me through my recovery. That covenant binds me to this day.

I think around 2 weeks, I started to feel normal again (though exhausted and wrung out). And as I moved away from that experience, I was grateful for how terrible my withdrawal was because it took away the desire to use crack again or anything similar (I took weed off the list as well).

And I learned that I was just as vulnerable to addiction as anyone else.

And so I learned a new strategy.

Zero tolerance.

There are some things I can manage. I drink a shot of bourbon-whiskey at bedtime to slow my mind and help me sleep. Alcohol for me is a tool to be used in moderation. If that bourbon-whiskey doesn’t work, I’ll add a glass of red wine, but that’s the max whether it works or not. Only on very rare occasions do I drink socially; that’s because I feel like I’m already at my consumption limit.

But I have found that while I can be quite disciplined at saying no, once I take the “first bite”, well, the addictive impulse take over and I just have to ride it out. If I order a dessert, I do so knowing I will eat every bit of it, and am I ok with that?

Addictive responses is an ever-present thing. Sometimes I win. Sometimes I don’t. I will for example reward myself for meeting a writing objective by indulging in Civ5 for 30 minutes, which often becomes 2 hours. Many things, especially drugs, are off limits.

Because I understand that sometimes I do lose, and I don’t want to be in a battle where losing may mean a mortal wound.

And besides, I have a lot of things that need to get done.

If you got this far, the reissue of Book1 is back to the editor. I’m in the queue and she won’t get to it for 2 months. In the meantime, I will finetune book2. I have already purchased my queue spot for book2, so the editor should move seamlessly from book1 to book2, which is a nice bonus.

Time for a little CIV action.