In my personal experience addiction isn't a disease, it's a symptom. I just wandered in here on a whim to see what was going on in my old stomping grounds, and I decided to post something for the first time in over three years. A little more than two years ago I went totally dark online-no facebook, no forums, nothing-but I didn't just go dark online. I had a case of severe agoraphobia, I didn't leave my house for about eight months straight. When I finally did leave my house I was a wreck. I would run out of breath walking around the block, my muscles were completely atrophied, I would come home after ten minutes sweating, sore all over, and with blistered feet. A few months before I shut myself in, though, I wasn't doing great either. I was skipping meals, missing classes, neglecting my homework, and doing a hell of a lot of binge watching, usually while getting a bit drunk. I think most people who saw what I was doing would have said the same thing the OP did about video games, that I was addicted to streaming. The truth, though, is that I wasn't.
There's this one study on addiction that really stands out to me. A team of researchers created two different mouse habitats. The first one was a mouse paradise-tons of different things to play with, activity wheels, climbing tunnels, good food, the works. The second was bland, barren, and had very little to stimulate the mice. Both groups of mice were addicted to cocaine and put in their respective colonies, each with two different sources of water. The first was ordinary water, the second was laced with cocaine. The mice in the nice colony were just as likely to drink the cocaine water as the ordinary water, the results were sufficiently random. The ones in the dreary colony, however, went straight for the cocaine water. The takeaway here is that addiction isn't just some character flaw, it's something that happens to people who aren't stimulated or happy, they search for something to fill that void of whatever is missing in their lives.
When I shut myself in I kept binge watching, it's about the only thing I did do. I knew I shouldn't, I knew I should have picked myself up and tried to get on with my life, but I couldn't. Everything seemed impossibly hard, every possibility I considered seemed destined for failure. Watching shows just made me feel good, it was about the only thing left in my life that made me feel good. I think my family would say that it was a crutch, that they should have somehow forced me to stop, but I honestly don't know if I could have gone on without it. When literally everything in my life seemed to be falling apart with no hope for it to get better, shows gave me that little bit of pleasure I needed to keep going. Not long after I started to heal I moved into an apartment and met one of the most beautiful souls I've ever known. She was dealing with some pretty intense problems of her own. Long story short, she tried to blame me for her own self-destructive behavior. Feeling like I was responsible for that was the singular most painful thing I have ever felt, bar none. I don't think I can ever forgive her for it, but I understand it. It was what she needed at the time, it gave her the sense of control she needed to keep going. Most people want to tell you the way out of destructive behavior is to stop, to get you away from it as soon as possible, but they're wrong. Sometimes the only way out of it is to keep going straight through it, to keep doing it until you're at a point where you're ready to stop. It sucks and you end up wondering if you couldn't get to where you are without losing everything you did, but in the end where you are now is exactly where you need to be.
The good news, TC, is that you've been through that. You've done the hard part, you've waded through the waist-deep crap, and you've come out the other side. Pat yourself on the back, because it's not easy and not everyone does. I know that some people are scoffing because it's only video games and they think you should have just put the controller down, but you and I know better. It might even be worse because, as you were sitting there probably calling yourself a piece of crap for doing what you were doing and not understanding why you couldn't stop, everyone else was asking you why you couldn't just stop and feeding your already substantial feelings of self-loathing. Bob Saget may have sucked #&$@ for coke, but at least people understood his addiction.
Now the bad news, your work isn't over yet. Stopping is the first step, learning to move on is a whole different beast. Like I said, addiction is a symptom, not a disease. My guess is that you dove into video games because you were unfulfilled. Do you know why video games are so appealing to people like us? Because they reward us. Do something good at your job and at best you get a canned thank you, at worst you're ignored or someone else takes credit for it. Do something good in video games and you get actual, tangible benefits. Not to mention that you were immersed in an MMO and might have fulfilled a craving for social attention that was going unfulfilled in real life. You're not going to necessarily relapse. When I quit drinking I actually hadn't done so destructively for quite a long time. I would typically have between one and four drinks per sitting, and mixology was becoming a very fulfilling hobby of mine. The question you have to ask yourself is are you fulfilled? Can you find enjoyment in your everyday life, do you look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day and think "that was a good day"? If not, then you will constantly be at risk of relapsing, and you need to take positive steps towards making your life better. For me that meant working a hell of a lot, finding fulfillment in something outside of my addictions. You have to find your own remedy. Just know that if you do relapse, it's not because there's something wrong with you. It's not because you aren't capable of controlling yourself, it's not because you have a fatal character flaw, it's not because you're some hedonistic malcontent with no self-control. You can, and it sounds like you are, doing perfectly fine managing your playing time as it is. Nothing puts that more at risk, though, than thinking that you're incapable of change, that you're just a flawed individual. The worst part of what we go through is the self-doubt, and it's most pernicious when there's solid reasoning behind it. You just have to get over it. It's not easy, and it takes time, but at the end of the day that's all it is.
I used to think people were full of crap when they'd say "it gets better." Recently, though, I was rejected by someone I had a pretty serious thing for. As I was sitting in my apartment trying to deal with my feelings for the first time since quitting booze I started to think back to how I would have dealt with this before, I'm sure you can pretty easily guess. I actually used to keep two spare bottles of wine in my dorm room for just such occasions. Back then I honestly didn't think I was capable of handling rejection without drinking, I actually didn't think I was capable of handling any hardship without drinking. As I sat there thinking about how I used to be, I started bawling my eyes out because I realized I was going to be okay. Drinking had made me temporarily feel better, but it had never made me feel that before. For the first time in forever I felt like I was going to be okay. You'll get there too.
Hey, OT, good to be back.
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