Disturbance

I'm not going to tell you my record for number of years that I've avoided going to the dentist, but I'll let you know that it's somewhere between "a few" and "several." Many of us desperately want to avoid discomfort and pain, even at the expense of healthy habits, healthy relationships, and healthy teeth.

We're like pools of water trying to maintain a calm surface...and life loves throwing rocks at us. Whenever someone we like ignores us, or when we accidentally offend a friend, or when the door handle comes off in our hand, we become disturbed. We have a number of solutions to the ripples that inevitably rock our world--like my approach to dentistry, we avoid things. Sometimes we try to counteract the unpleasantness by lashing out (road rage) or numbing (the entire "Thank Goodness It's Friday" mentality, which is basically code for "now I can try again to numb my problems out of existence").

Life throws rocks into our otherwise peaceful existence.

I've been thinking a lot over the last few months about something my sponsor told me about disturbance:

We become disturbed to the degree that we're broken. 

In other words, if I'm upset about something, it's not the thing I'm upset about that's the problem. The problem is that I have some deficiency or personality flaw. Let me give you an example:

One day I publicly embarrassed a student. She and her friend were on the gym team, and I asked, "does the fact that you're in class and she's not mean that you didn't make the cut and she did?" A dumb thing to say, although I didn't mean it maliciously. She was apparently feeling pretty sensitive about it, and ever after that day she and her friend hated me. I even took them into my office and apologized, explaining my side of it. At the end of the semester I got a surly email from one of them, complaining about her grade. I (believed that I) honestly wanted to help her understand, so I sent an email explaining some piece of wisdom. Then she abandoned all thoughts of not-offending-the-grade-giver, and she let me have it. After I read her email I was SO upset. I felt misunderstood, stereotyped, and unfairly attacked. All her faults and weaknesses made me choke on her words--"She was such a half-hearted, flakey, overconfident, entitled student--what a hypocrite that she would attack me without seeing her own shortcomings!" I struggled for days with a desire to write her back, pointing out all these mean things I was thinking about her. I even wanted to justify it as helping her be a better person ("somebody needs to give her a wake-up call"). I'm glad I let it lie.

I can see now that, yes, all those mean things I thought about her were more or less true. However, I was at fault. I was angry because I felt guilty, prideful, insecure, and hypocritical. It was a bad semester--I was knee deep in a secret addiction to pornography, daily lying (mostly through omission) to my wife. I didn't dedicate enough time to my students because I was drowning in other work, acting out, and numbing my guilt. To some degree I knew she was right--I was a broken and hypocritical person. Even though that's so clear to me now, all I could see were her problems (more on this intentional blindness in a future post--I call it the reality distortion field).

Here's where things get tricky. It's easy to look into the distant past and see mistakes like this, but disturbance is around us all the time. I've found myself getting angry, then remembering this idea that I'm at fault if I'm disturbed. I want to yell--"my kid just drew all over himself with a marker! How am I to blame!?" or "That woman, a member of the church, was super immodest! I didn't want her to dress like that, yet I'm super triggered! How am I to blame!?" This indignation is a bad sign. Doesn't it just feel like I'm trying to force the water to be calm?

Instead of focusing on the "originators" of the disturbance, I need to look at myself: "I just yelled at a three-year old for doing something completely predictable and completely non-permanent; what have I done recently that's causing me to feel like lashing out?" or "I--the messed-up addict--am railing against a woman who in all likelihood doesn't understand and is trying to cope with her own problems; what do I need to do to regain my equilibrium, then strengthen my recovery (which has apparently gotten off track)?"

Here's where I edited out a paragraph that was meant for someone else--someone who is disturbed by something I want to defend, and I wanted to force this person to look at their disturbance as a sign that they should be more concerned with their own personality flaws than with this thing. However, I realize that my reason for putting this paragraph in was to lash out and lecture, not deal with my own disturbance. I write this paragraph to acknowledge that I'm a flawed, disturbed individual who needs to be more concerned with my own personality flaws than with this person. 

The solution isn't to try to move my pond out of the way of the rocks. It's not to yell at the rock thrower. It's not to find a way to create ripples that cancel out ones that are already there. There are times when I can figure out how to deal productively with my problems on my own or with the help of others. With addiction, though, there are so many ripples and counter-ripples there's only one real solution. It's to come to Him who commanded the waters--"peace, be still"--and they were calmed.

Job understood this, and he proved how un-broken he is. All his physical possessions were destroyed, his ten children were killed, and he was rejected by his friends and wife. If that's not disturbance, I don't know what is. Still, he said, "Till I die I won't remove my integrity from me" (Job 27:5) and  "I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I shall see God" (Job 19:25-26).

That's the kind of pond I want.

Failure is an Event, Not a Person

If recovery is a path with rough, steep sections and smooth, relatively easy parts, I'm pretty sure I'm in a rough, steep part right now. Partly it's because of other pressures (7 days until a move, upcoming teaching, upcoming schooling, family's illness, kid's dental work, car trouble, 4 kids and their propensity for bickering/unhelpfulness/unrequested murals), but partly I'm not sure why. Both me and my wife have been feeling a bit down about our...fill in the blank. Marriage,  parenting, recovery, habits, etc. Basically, I've felt like I'm a failure at this recovery thing. And after my last post, even the sobriety thing is in question. :)

Still, earlier this week I had a tender mercy experience where I got a glimpse of my own recovery.  I went to an ARP meeting for the first time in five months. I've been going regularly to SA meetings during that time, but since I'm moving next week I wanted to go and 1) let everyone there know I didn't just fall off the wagon, and 2) put in a plug for SA, which has been super helpful to my sobriety/recovery. Since I hadn't been in so long, it brought back very clear memories of what I felt like the last time, regardless of all the intervening meetings.

The first time I went to an ARP meeting five-ish months ago, I was slightly nervous, not really sure about what to say, but really impressed with the spirit in the meeting. Sometimes in meetings the last several months I've shared because I feel like I should and that it would be good for me. I end up rambling about random things, then ending awkwardly. Pretty much every meeting I end up feeling that everyone else's share is so much more enlightening and amazing than mine...which I guess is a good thing (I recently heard the advice "stick with the winners.").

It's not only in meetings; throughout the week I'll be trying so hard...then I'll fall flat on my face. I'll come home from a super spiritual, empowering meeting then find myself yelling at my kids. I'll intentionally choose to reach out and call someone in my group, then later find myself making a google image search of an innocuous word, hoping for some kind of immodesty.

Side note: isn't it sad that even with "SafeSearch" on, stuff still comes up? How porn-infused is our culture when almost any word turns up porn? Also, I've since told my sponsor that if I do any Google image search like this I'll consider it a lapse in my sobriety.

Honestly, even the day I went to the meeting I wasn't having that stellar of a day. I'm pretty determined that I'm not going to replace one addiction for another, which has left me grasping for video games, movies, ANY entertainment to escape from my unwillingness to cope with life.

However, I was pleasantly surprised at the meeting that when I shared I felt confident and helpful. I'm pretty sure I rambled, but it seemed like it was from one good thing to another. In any case, it was a clear, powerful feeling, and I feel it was a blessing to have a brief snapshot of the progress of my recovery.

It helps me realize that I may fail a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm a failure. Failure is a thing that happens, not a part of my identity. And not only that, but I HAVE made progress, despite not being able to see it every day.

What is Sobriety?

One of the new terms I've started using since becoming familiar with 12-step programs is "sober"/"sobriety," as in "I've been sexually sober for five and a half months." In my mind it's always been a pretty clear definition; if an alcoholic drinks alcohol they've broken sobriety. If a sex addict has sex (aka orgasm) with self or someone other than spouse, they've broken sobriety. "Sobriety," along with the similar "acting out," seems like a pretty useful measurement when talking about recovery.

However, it isn't as clear-cut as I originally thought. Did you catch the mismatched examples in that last paragraph? One drink of alcohol=sex? I don't think so. It would be more accurate to say one drink of alcohol=one lust hit...but that seems a little unrealistic, right? With immodesty everywhere (especially in hot weather) and lustfulness so widely accepted, surely there must be more to losing sobriety than ogling women in a supermarket?

I recently came across a short SA essay (see what I did there?) entitled, "What is Sex with Self?" It was from someone named Harvey A, who apparently had been sober for 26 years, as of 2010. I'm going to quote from a few paragraphs of it:

"Those people who wonder why they repeatedly relapse might consider that they have never really gotten sober. Yes, they stopped masturbating to orgasm, BUT nothing else changed. Some continued stimulating themselves but not to orgasm. Others continued watching internet pornography and others live in sexual fantasy while letting themselves become aroused. If this isn't 'sex with self,' then what do we call it?...

"What is the solution? Do we itemize each form of sex with ones self? Do we define specifically for each other? Do we merely continue to ignore this problem as a fellowship and just say it is part of progressive victory over lust? No. I do not believe these are the solutions. I believe the solution is in the statement, 'to thine own self be true'....We [discuss with our sponsor, saying] something like this, 'I do such and such behavior to sexually stimulate myself. This is a form of sex with self. If I do this behavior again, I will call it a loss of my sobriety.'"

Progressive victory over lust means we will make mistakes. However, I'm starting to feel that it's easy to stall out and plateau in those victories. It would be nice to just have a checklist of things that are forbidden, but I find myself constantly trying to push whatever boundaries I set for myself. If I really had an attitude of wanting to be true to myself, I would be more sensitive to my own thought processes and desires. Being true to myself is a boundary that resists my desire to push boundaries.

Let me share another way of looking at sobriety that goes along the same lines as what Harvey A. wrote. Here's an excerpt from a personal story in the SA White Book (page 23):

With no more resorting to 'drugs' to avoid the reality of my own emotions, I began to see and feel them. Raw nerve endings of resentment, negativism, anxiety, and fear became exposed. Above all, I think I was afraid of finding out what I was really like on the inside. It wasn't pretty. I discovered that uninsulated by lust, sex, pills, alcohol, or entertainment, I was a very marginal person and would have to begin growing where I had left off at the age of eight. And so the pain began. That's when I saw the truth of another paradox: We have to suffer to get well.

I really have felt those "raw nerve endings" recently. They desperately make me want to numb them with something--video games, ice cream, escapist entertainment, and lusting. It's hard to face my own weaknesses. I wish I could just go on with life. But there aren't any shortcuts in sobriety, and when I find myself trying to avoid the pain, covering it with some kind of medication, that's when I need to question whether I'm actually sober and in recovery. Not only is sobriety not comfortable, but it's painful.

So the next time I'm feeling the lust hunger, I need to work on my reaction. Rather than think about how I can find some loophole and still get lust hits while still maintaining "sobriety," I need to be more in tune with who I am and accept that painful feeling. Will there come a day when I can have sobriety without any pain? I hope so, but for now I need to remember that the pain from not hiding  means I'm sober.



P.S. Last week I wrote about my ultimatum--write in my journal and control my video game use, or face a long-term ban. The first few days of the week things went pretty well--I had solo video game time and used it to increase my productivity. However, I'm sad to say that after those first few days things didn't go very well. I've decided to ban video games for the next four months. I'm going to have to be more specific, but maybe I'll do that in an update to my boundaries. Now that I think of it, I think I'll have to update them anyways when I move in a week and a half (!). 

Making my Desires into my Allies

A while ago my wife had an interesting conversation at a recovery group meeting. After she mentioned that I'd been sober for (at the time) about four months, the woman she was talking to said that was usually the amount of time it took her husband to relapse.

I don't know if that's a universal thing, but I sense I've started to plateau in my recovery a little bit. It's not just the slowing down in my posting to this blog (though I've started three posts since my last post--one about a story in the D&C, one about video game addiction, and one about general conference talks). It's also probably in part due to outside influences making my life crazy: we're moving in less than a month, we're in the process of buying a house to move into, I'm finishing up this semester of teaching, and I'm preparing to teach two new classes/take three classes in my PhD program next semester. And then there's the usual insanity that involves having four boys.

But, more importantly, I've become lax in certain areas of my recovery. I've let other interests, including video games, crowd out the actions that lead me to feel like I'm making progress in recovering myself. I want recovery. I know trying to escape my stresses and insecurities with video games and drown them with ice cream isn't going to work. But at the end of a long day after the kids go down to sleep, I'm having a hard time making that acknowledgement part of my daily routine.

It all comes down to what I desire. Here's an amazing quote from Neil A. Maxwell, in a talk from this last conference by Randall L. Ridd:

"What we insistently desire, over time, is what we will eventually become and what we will receive in eternity. ... Only by educating and training our desires can they become our allies instead of our enemies!" Ensign Nov. 1996

I do want recovery, but do I want it enough to "educate and train my desires" away from the path of least resistance and towards the path of recovery? If so, I know what I will become and where I will end up. I sense there's a long-term video game ban in my near future, but I'm going to give it a week to see. Instead, I'm going to do something that I think will help me be more in tune with my desires and where my heart is.

In a recovery meeting a week and a half ago, I felt an amazing outpouring of love and the spirit. It was an amazing experience. Afterwards I called my brother (who's further along in his recovery than I am) to share some ideas and excitement about it. One of the things he mentioned was how much journal writing has helped him. We talked about using the journal to better understand our thinking, and not just a place to record what's happened (something I've done in the past).

This week I'm going to explore where my heart is in my journal every night right after the kids go down. Because right now, my desires are working against my long-term well being, and to successfully be in recovery I need my desires to work for me.

Coming Back to Life

I met with my sponsor earlier this week to go over my addiction inventory, which I decided I'm going to share with my SA group in two weeks. It was great to get some feedback and perspective on it, but the part I really enjoyed was chatting with him for a few minutes afterwards. I have a lot of respect for him--I'd tell you about his recovery from low-bottom drinking/sex addiction, but just trust me that it's amazing. It's really a miracle that 1) he's alive at all and 2) he has been sober for multiple years. Anyway, the thing he said that really stood out to me was how he talked about hobbies in recovery. It came about because I asked about his singing, which it turns out he does at a professional level. I asked if he'd been singing for long, but apparently he only started about 10 years ago (he's in his 50s). For decades he wanted to pursue singing as a hobby or career, but had never managed to. This goes along with another story I heard last night in SA group from a man who's been sober for about 6 years who talked about how he's started doing woodworking and fishing, both of which he gave up a long time ago.

One of the many side effects of sex addiction is that it seems to crush the creativity and motivation out of those caught in it. The way my sponsor described it was that we all have God-given drives for creativity and imagination, but addiction has a way of luring you inward and focusing you on yourself to the point where you're unable to receive motivation and light from God. On the other hand, one of the aftereffects of drying out from the addiction is that life returns to these starved, dormant desires to create.

This is incredibly encouraging to me.

I've tried for years to force myself to pursue creative outlets, every time falling flat on my face. For example, six or seven years ago I had an idea for a children's book that I was going to illustrate myself. It was going to be a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood where she (in her bright red hoodie) goes around terrorizing the forest creatures by jumping on them. The climax comes when her trap backfires and an elderly wolf falls on her, hurting his back and immobilizing them both until a passing lumberjack frees them. Anyway, I had the whole thing story-boarded with text and rough character sketches, then...nothing.

An illustration from my adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood. That's a baby owl in the upper left; also, the scan faintly shows the dialogue/text written on the other side of the page.

Another example: about four years ago I had an idea for a science fiction novel. I was quite proud of the premise; I worked on the setting, characters, and plot quite a bit. I had created quite a history and ideas for how everything worked. I even wrote short stories based on it and three or four drafts of the first chapter--over 20,000 words worth. And...nothing.

Concept art for my sci-fi novel (the one on the left is a spaceship)

Both of these projects are still there, and I still want to work on them. For the longest time I had excuses that explained why I couldn't: my work took up too much time, my family took up my energy, I needed time to rest, etc. Now I realize the only reason I haven't finished them--whether or not they end up being worth sharing with anyone else--is because I have been hunched over, desperately clenching my addiction like it were a life preserver in a violent storm. My muscles were clamped in this death-grip for so long that they started to atrophy. The sad thing is that this "life preserver" isn't buoyant. It makes the storm infinitely worse, drowning everything I wanted to become.

For the longest time I've been angry that I can't make myself work on these and other projects. I decided I must not be the creative type--maybe I'm only good for watching tv and playing video games. I also concluded that this must just be the nature of life. Both of these conclusions built resentments against family, work, and God. And how did I deal with them? Yep--more acting out and trying to forget that I even wanted to do those things in the first place.

As I was talking with my sponsor another thought occurred to me. Every desire we have is originally from God. We want to eat, interact with others, sleep, have sexual relations, etc. These desires are part of what God made us to be. The Adversary corrupts and twists these into addictions--we want to eat two boxes of Twinkies, exploit others for sexual or financial profit, etc. Part of our challenge in this life is to find and use these impulses in the way God originally intended us to. So my impulse to obsessively play video games may be corrupted, but somehow I can find a way to meet that impulse in a healthy way. That might mean not playing video games, but if I can find a way to feel fulfilled in that desire, I won't want to anyways. I'm convinced that the key to a happy and fulfilling existence in this life is to be able to differentiate between Godly and corrupted desires and choose the original, the pure, the uplifting.

Now I realize that around the corner, if I'm diligent in my recovery, is the resurrection of these creative impulses which will strengthen me, those around me, and my relationship with God. And it won't be me futilely trying to force life into something dead and shriveled; rather, it will be God breathing life into me, reinvigorating parts of me I had left for dead long ago.

Comments on Comments

I first started teaching online classes about a year and a half ago, and I was skeptical. At one point I had a student remark how much he liked it and learned in it...and I was honestly surprised. Not because I lacked confidence in my material or teaching style, but just because I didn't have any face-to-face interaction with him and didn't see his learning taking place. I was similarly blown away when another online student, who later took an in-person class from me, stated he preferred online classes in general.

There's something about interacting online that I have a hard time wrapping my head around. I was highly resistant to Facebook for a long time for this same reason--I didn't really believe that relationships could be strengthened through any online tools. The fact that learning and bonding happen through a screen and keyboard still kind of boggles my mind.

It does happen, though. It's why I still teach online classes, participate in Facebook, and, to a degree, why I write on this blog. Based on a number of headings of blogs attached to the LDS Addiction Recovery Blog site, I believe there are many people who also write in their blogs to teach, learn from, and connect with others in a strictly online setting.

Still, online interactions aren't all made equal. I've come to believe that one of the best ways to strengthen each other and ourselves online is to leave sincere, thoughtful comments. In this post I'll talk about commenting as an act of faith and service, as an investment in a community, and as an act of critical analysis.

An Act of Faith and Service

When I think back on my prayer relationship with Heavenly Father, there are times it's been pretty shabby. It wasn't for a lack of trying--I'd pray "Lord, you know my heart. My life isn't where it should be, but I honestly want to follow you and do your will. Please help me resist the temptations I will encounter tomorrow." Why didn't Heavenly Father help me? I was being honest...mostly. The only problem is that I didn't want to follow Him if it meant I had to change my behavior. The next day I would keep the same secrets and try to combat the temptations the same way I'd been trying, hoping that Heavenly Father would cure me on my terms (no wonder I couldn't sustain nightly prayers with such a prideful attitude).  Recovery from addiction doesn't work like that! There has to be acts accompanying words. I've come to realize that even confessing and forsaking my sins once isn't enough to qualify for daily protection from Heavenly Father. There must be daily acts of faith to show I mean business.

For example, this week I was grading an essay about welding which unexpectedly had an image of a woman (using a plasma cutter) with a low shirt and a short skirt. I didn't go looking for this picture, and I didn't want the mental tornadoes it caused. I prayed for help, but I was still caught in obsessive thinking. I prayed again. Why didn't Heavenly Father take these thoughts from me? Fed up with it, I decided to reach out. I called a guy in my recovery group. He didn't even answer, but immediately my thoughts calmed and I was able to get back to grading. I can see Heavenly Father waiting patiently to bless me the second I stepped out of my comfort zone. I need to show an act of faith first, though.

Online comments can fill this role. Sometimes after reading a blog post I have a comment come to mind that I want to share. Most of the time, though, I have to really dig if I want to say something meaningful. It makes me anxious: could they be offended? Is this even helpful? Is this honest? At times I spend longer thinking of a two sentence comment than I spent reading the post. I believe it's time well spent, though; not only am I potentially helping someone else, but I'm also showing Heavenly Father that I'm willing to serve others and qualify for blessings.

An Investment in a Community

There's an allegory (by Rabbi Haim of Romshishok) of a man who toured both heaven and hell that goes something like this: The angel first took him to hell--all around he saw the most delicious foods: steaks, cheesecakes, crisp salad mixes, root beer floats, asparagus (so sue me--I like asparagus), ice cream, funeral potatoes, creme brûlée, etc. The people were looking longingly at the foods, but the food was kept in containers which kept the inhabitants from eating any of it. However, all the people had spoons tied to their hands. The spoons could fit into the containers, and the people tried ceaselessly to get the food into their mouths. The only problem was that the handles of the spoons were too long, and, no matter how people bent, twisted, and contorted themselves, the delicious food was always just out of their reach.

The man commented to the angel how terrible and tortuous a place hell was. The angel smiled as he took the man to heaven. The room was exactly the same. There were the same containers, the same food, and the same ridiculously long spoons attached to everyone's hands. The man was confused. He told the angel he must have made a mistake and taken him to the wrong place. The angel pointed to the people and told him to watch. Indeed, a glance showed that these people were not the frustrated, tortured wretches like in hell. They were happy, smiling, and laughing. The man was confused until he saw the difference. No one could feed themselves, but in heaven they all took turns feeding each other.

The people in hell were so busy trying to feed themselves that it never occurred to them to help others.

In this story, heaven and hell were exactly the same. The only difference was that the self-centered obsession of those in hell made their lives a torture, while the selfless pursuit of others' wellbeing of those in heaven made their lives a chance to connect. I believe comments are like the food in the analogy: we can pursue them selfishly, only concerned with what we get (think of the stereotypical Facebook narcissist), or we can show our faith and concern for others by giving selflessly. What becomes of the community--whether or not it becomes a place where people help and comfort each other--depends on how we treat our fellow blog posters...and our comments are a great indicator of how we're doing.

An Act of Critical Analysis

Thinking or talking about an idea can be great, but one of the things I love about writing is how it can revolutionize the way you think about things in a way no other medium can. Anyone who's ever had to write a talk knows that putting your thoughts on paper is a demanding and difficult task. Addressing a single audience member--writing a comment--in a helpful and sincere way can be even harder, but in the end I believe it can result in an even greater understanding of the topic. Comments can be a chance to learn from others' experience and insights.

Now might be a good time to break down what I mean when I say "comment" on a blog post. I argue that there are certain moves you can make, each with their inherent benefits and challenges. I believe the more potentially beneficial the commenting technique, the more dangers there are involved as well. I list them here from "safe" to "dangerous":

Technique	Potential Benefits	Potential Challenges
Thanking for the post (or idea, or them).	They feel appreciated and recognized.	They may question your motives.
Affirming their approach or idea.	They feel validated and useful.	It may come across as forced or insincere.
Sharing a similar experience.	They feel connected and less alone.	They feel “one-uped” or misunderstood.
Asking for clarification or additional info.	They feel that someone cares about them, their thoughts, and/or their situation.	Could be seen as an invasion of privacy or evidence their post was poorly worded.
Sharing thoughts about the topic / extending the idea.	They feel someone understands and cares, and they learn something new.	Could be interpreted as criticism/ could cause feelings of inadequacy.
Giving direct advice.	They feel cared about and they learn something directly applicable.	They feel preached to, judged, or inadequate (or that you think they are inadequate).
Correcting or questioning an idea.	They think more deeply about the topic and learn something. They feel an increase of respect and understanding.	They feel preached at, judged, criticized, or misunderstood.

The difference between a comment that nails the benefits and a comment that stumbles over the challenges may not be very much. Still, the spirit it's written in can make all the difference. In my experience, when I write a comment from a place of irritation or lecturing, it's always going to backfire. When I feel the spirit when I'm writing it, it's worth pushing "submit." I always tell my students to use the "hug/slap/hug" method of giving feedback--bookending criticism in praise, or at least giving twice as much positive feedback as negative.

I suppose I could have written another post or at least a section about reading comments, but let me adapt the Ralph Waldo Emerson quote in my side bar to apply to comments: "[Comments], though foolishly [written], may be wisely [read]." In other words, even poorly written comments have things of value in them for the wise recipient. However, there's no question it's hard to say, "I'm going to take the good in your words and discard the possibly spiteful, judgmental, or misinformed." An example of this is a recent post on A Wife Redeemed. Shay was obviously hurt by the comment (which I felt clearly fit into the "challenges" category of "direct advice" and "correcting or questioning an idea"), but she still addressed a legitimate part of the comment. 

I challenge everyone--including myself--to make more comments, especially comments that build up, inspire, and enlighten. When a more in-depth "higher level" comment isn't possible, at least we should make a gratitude, affirming, or experience-sharing comment. May we also read comments with more forgiveness and optimism. If we can, hopefully when we get to the hereafter we'll find we already have good practice at feeding those around us. 

P.S. What did you think about my take on comments? Did I miss any techniques that you like to use? What benefits or challenges did I miss? What other aspects of commenting did I miss? (And to the skeptical, I promise this post isn't an attempt to fish for more comments :)

P.P.S. Yet again, I'm having trouble with my boundaries about video games. On Monday I started the beginning of a two week hiatus--I'll have to assess whether or not video games are compatible with my recovery at all (as much as it pains me to say it). I may write more about this later. Hopefully this break will lead to more free time to finish other projects...like a comic I've been working on for at least three weeks. 

Only Eating "Glutton-Free" Food: Addiction as an Allergy

As an English teacher, I see a lot of misspelled words that give me a laugh: one student wrote "we were great friends from the gecko." Another wrote, "I was defiantly grateful to get the job." Finally, one used the term "glutton-free bread." I'll admit that part of me wanted to write a comment in the margin asking if that's the kind of bread that prevents you from eating too much (but I didn't). What they meant to say was "gluten-free bread"--however, I think there's an interesting connection between addiction (like gluttony) and how it often affects us like an allergy (like gluten intolerance).

Gluten-Free Bread doesn't have any gluten. Glutton-Free Bread keeps you from being a glutton. It does that by monitoring your consumption (with audio and video), and blowing up if you overeat.

For people with gluten sensitivity, any ingestion of gluten can cause terrible side-effects: "Symptoms include bloating, abdominal discomfort or pain, diarrhea, constipation, muscular disturbances, headaches, migraines, severe acne, fatigue, and bone or joint pain." One person that I know with Celiac's Disease will eat one goldfish cracker and throw up for hours. In other words, a relatively insignificant input has a disproportionately extreme outcome.

The same thing is true for addicts. I've especially noticed this as I've become sober for longer than I ever have in the past. A commercial, image, or outfit that used to not bother me at all can now immediately result in a hot face and a quickly-beating heart, with hours of obsessive thinking following. I'm sure most people don't even notice or aren't even bothered.

Note: I'm not defending lust--not only was it the addict's actions that caused this "allergy" in the first place, but it's their burden to be on the guard against triggers like this. Also, just because the reaction is involuntary, that doesn't mean we're justified in what we do after the initial reaction.

Just like there are a myriad of symptoms a person may experience after eating gluten, there are a ton of reactions after indulging in an addiction. I've mentioned hot face, quickly-beating heart, and obsessive thinking, but there's also guilt, shame, and a desire to self-medicate with other addictions. There's a feeling of hopelessness and a lack of motivation to fulfill responsibilities. There's irritability, lack of closeness with loved ones, depression, anger, unwillingness to communicate, and apathy. And an addict doesn't have to have binged on the hardest porn for hours to become negatively affected--a relatively small trigger after a long period of abstinence can cause me to be unmotivated to help with household chores, unkind in communication with my wife and kids, and closed-off in attitude.

An important thing to recognize is that addicts have this reaction whether we want to or not. In the beginning years of my addiction I would basically tell myself, "I'm not going to let this affect me. I'll just indulge in this, then go about my merry way trying to be a good member of the church." Then I'd find myself doubled over with all kinds of spiritual side-effects, wondering why I couldn't separate the two. An allergy doesn't care if you've promised yourself you won't have a reaction this time. It doesn't care if you're eating your only child's (gluten-rich) wedding cake, or if you promise it's the last cheesecake ever. You will have a reaction. It's not a matter of self-control.

So there are symptoms. Still, just like food allergies, it can be hard to determine what food caused which symptom. I remember my sister-in-law trying a number of different diets and talking with several doctors before discovering the cause of her ailment. Rather than just accepting that she was a certain way, she took a lot of time and spent a lot of energy and self-control to figure it out. Similarly, without a willingness to work hard and make serious sacrifices, an addict can find themselves blaming their unhappiness on anything and anyone, or even resigning themselves to the idea that life will never be a happy place for them.

Some of us have tried for years to determine the nature of the addiction...and the search has often born a striking resemblance to insanity. Would you expect someone who's writhing in pain because they ate a certain white berry to say, "this has happened the last hundred times I've tried it, but I was hoping that this time would be different." Or "it's been a month since I ate one of these--I was hoping I'd have gotten over it by now." You don't just "get over" an allergy in a matter of months, if ever!

Just like people with gluten sensitivity, there is a cure. The cure is to not eat any gluten again, ever. (And "gluten/glutton" for me is lust/porn/sex outside marriage, which makes sex within marriage tricky...but that's a whole 'nuther post). At first no gluten kind of sucks, but then you remember how terrible you felt before, you find other gluten-free recipes that you come to love, and you find other people who have gone through the same withdrawals and testify how much happier they are now. The difference is that overcoming a sexual addiction comes with the added benefit (/cost) of overcoming many other character flaws...which, as opposed to avoiding gluten, will have significance that is eternal rather than internal.