Essay Link Copied 12.09.24

I’ll Be Sober for Christmas

This is how I do the holidays without drinking and have a better time than ever. ByWill Ganss

Let me start by saying that I really love the holiday season. We’re talking Mariah-Carey levels of yuletide devotion here. Not that you’re asking, but here are some quick Christmas credentials for you: 

• I have flown across the country to visit the world’s largest ugly Christmas sweater (big enough for the Statue of Liberty to wear). Yes, I climbed inside of it.
• I’ve worn a Buddy the Elf costume atop the Empire State Building.
• I live in a typically tiny New York City apartment, but I’m rocking around two full-sized Christmas trees in my living room this time of the year. 
• I’ve traveled to Santa Claus, Indiana for the sole purpose of telling you that I’ve traveled to Santa Claus, Indiana. 

So I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I thought I had achieved peak Christmas spirit. Like the Claus-o-meter on Santa’s sleigh (See: the last five minutes of Elf), there was simply no way for my world to get more twinkly, more jingly, or more jolly. 

But, ho-ho-hold up. Turns out, I was wrong. A few years ago, I unwrapped the gift of sobriety, put alcohol on the naughty list, and suddenly the entire holiday season hit a new level of tinsel-tinged love-fest, one I assumed only happened to George Bailey on the silver screen. 

But ditching the drink this time of year is no reindeer game. It’s tough work. While most of us can do Dry January, especially after the celebrations have worn us out, the holidays are a fizzy-fueled, boozy, bubbly affair. 

Exhibit A: During my first Thanksgiving home as a sober person, my dad cracked open a gorgeous bottle of wine and hosted a mini-tasting at the dinner table. My newly sober fingers gripped a can of LaCroix with the intensity of the Grinch lugging all of the Christmas crap up Mount Crumpit. And yet, I made it through that dinner… and several holiday seasons since.

In my opinion, sobriety during the holidays is a lot like the end of Home Alone. After planes, pains, and automobile rides with the Polka King of the Midwest, there’s nothing like returning home to yourself, to your family, and to the season that makes life a little more sparkly. Sure, there’s always a Wet Bandit or two ready to throw you off, but with enough preparation, you’ll defend your sobriety the way Kevin has the McAllister house on lockdown (no swinging paint cans required).

Here are the biggest lessons I’ve learned about spending the holidays sober. Please enjoy this list, I’ve checked it twice.

1. Being sober helps me focus on the good stuff.

I understand why drinking this time of the year escalates. We’re feeling festive, we’re feeling flirty, we’re blunting the painfully awkward small talk with extended family, the list could go on forever. 

But in sobriety, I’ve learned I can experience all the best parts of the season more fully: the closeness to family and friends, the ability to express my love for them, the peace of cold winter nights I crave all year long, the levity of an ugly sweater party without crushing hangxiety. The nostalgia of all this, which meant so much to me as a kid, feels like a gift in itself. 

Don’t get me wrong. Deleting the alcohol also means raw dogging all the tough parts too. There’s no trap door to exit an awkward conversation with your uncle. There’s no numbing the feeling of grief that pops up when you take stock of the loved ones who are no longer with us around the holidays. But when there’s nothing between you and the magic of the season, you’re bound to feel so much more of the good stuff too.

2. Nonalcoholic liquid courage gets the job done.

OK, this might be obvious, but if I’m going to a work holiday party, a college friend’s ugly sweater get-together, or whatever, keeping a beverage in my hand at all times throughout the event serves many purposes.

Sure, an emotional support bevvie whilst sober keeps people from asking if I need a drink. But it has other secret powers, especially at a holiday shindig. You can take a sip when there’s a lull in the conversation or use it as an excuse to leave a boring one (“I’m gonna go get a refill!”). You can use it for toasts and holiday hear-hearing. You’ll feel included, ready to participate in festivities, and less physically awkward (“I don’t know what to do with my hands!”). What can’t she do?

3. There’s always a vibe shift.

There’s that moment in every holiday party when the vibe shifts. It’s usually subtle. Someone starts repeating a story they told you an hour ago. Someone’s hand lingers a little too long after a hug. Someone else starts crying. That’s when I make like Kevin McAllister and go Home Alone. 

The holidays are already an exhausting season, and our shiny, sober selves don’t need the added strain of witnessing Deb from accounting barf up eggnog at the holiday party. When I get the sense that things are taking a turn, here are my excuses to jet:

• I’m taking photos for my holiday card tomorrow, and I want to look fresh.
• I’m volunteering in the morning, so I gotta appear charitable and fresh-faced bright and early.
• Family is coming into town—and I don’t want to host them hungover.
• I’m a grown man, and I don’t need to explain myself to you, Ted. 

4. No party is more important than my mental and physical health.

As someone who spent a majority of my late 20s and early 30s single, I have felt especially uncomfortable in rooms where everyone else is coupled up. Those feelings of insecurity can easily turn into whispers of, Grab a drink. It’ll help relax you. Those were the parties I skipped—even the holiday ones.

Doing holiday events in an election year is also triggering. For example, I have extended family members who are on the opposite side of the political spectrum from me. While some of them can delicately acknowledge that, others cannot. Over the last couple of years, I’ve learned that it’s not worth risking my sobriety for a gift exchange with relatives who want to convince me that my views about my own humanity are incorrect. Instead, I send my regrets and a lovely basket of peppermint bark. 

My takeaway here is that not everyone deserves access to me—especially if they’re going to jeopardize this commitment I’ve made to my health this holiday season. To quote the Grinch, “6:30. Dinner with me. I can’t cancel that again!”

5. Non-drinking activities create nostalgic memories.

Traditionally, the holidays are a time to sit around, yap, and drink. So I have found that planning activities that don’t revolve around drinking is a great way to start new traditions that make me feel nostalgic for years to come. 

Last year, my parents, brother, and I did an escape room together over the winter break, and we still talk about the fun we had. There’s another tradition we’ve incorporated called The Peppermint Pig. We buy a pig literally made of peppermint about the size of a TV remote, and take turns sharing a favorite memory of the year gone by. After that, we take a tiny hammer and crack the pig. Once we’re all caught up on the moments that meant the most to us over the last year, we’ve got bite-sized pieces of peppermint to share. We’ve also become partial to games like Loaded Questions, Code Names, or card games like Five Crowns and Pass The Trash. 

Since getting sober, I was surprised at how rewarding it is to spend time with my family outside of just drinking and yapping. Because this time of year is steeped in tradition, it’s lovely to look back at photos and remind myself of all the fun we had and all the special memories we created that have nothing to do with booze. For me, it’s comparable to reflecting on my childhood Christmases, but even more gratifying because I had a hand in making these memories happen. 

6. Releasing the relationships that aren’t working is a gift to myself.

I assumed that, when I stopped drinking, each of my friendships, relationships, and acquaintanceships would magically improve without the blurred lines that come with a couple vodka cranberries. And my good friendships did level up. I was able to show up as a better friend, son, brother, boyfriend, whatever. But those wobbly relationships, especially the ones centered on drinking together, sort of faded. 

This time of year, embracing that fact can feel like a big relief. It clears space on my social calendar and makes room for people who are aligned with my values now. You don’t realize how stressful a forced friendship is until you let it go. 

7. I’m so proud of everyone else on this journey too.

As we settle into my very favorite season of the year, here’s to you, my sweet, sober snowman or snowwoman. Reach out to a fellow non-drinker if you have any questions or need any support. Whatever your reason for taking a little break (or a forever break) from drinking, I’m proud of you for deciding to upgrade your life in this way. You can do it!

The post I’ll Be Sober for Christmas appeared first on Wondermind.

Explainer Link Copied 09.04.24

7 Signs of Porn Addiction

Or, as TikTok calls it, “corn” addiction. BySam Brodsky

First things first: There’s nothing inherently harmful about watching porn, says sex therapist and certified alcohol and drug counselor Raquel VanLoon, LCPC, CSAT. For some people, it can be a healthy and normal part of how they explore their sexuality, she adds. But, like a lot of things that are fun in moderation, your relationship with porn can sometimes become problematic or even addictive. So if you stumbled upon this while looking up “porn addiction symptoms” with your own (or maybe your partner’s) behavior in mind, we’ve got answers for you. 

Let’s get into what mental health experts think about porn addiction, how to know if it’s a problem for you, and where to go from there. 

What is porn addiction?

Even though you’ve probably heard about porn addiction before, unlike addictions like substance use disorders, it’s not actually a diagnosable mental health condition listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5-TR). That said, if you feel as though you can’t not  use porn even if it’s causing issues in your life, that’s when some mental health pros would consider it a behavioral addiction, says addiction psychologist Aaron Weiner, PhD.

While the psychological community in the U.S. doesn’t agree on whether porn addiction should be classified as a mental health disorder, the World Health Organization considers it a compulsive sexual behavior disorder. According to the International Classification of Diseases (ICD-11), this happens when someone shows “failure to control intense, repetitive sexual impulses or urges.” So there’s that!

Regardless of its official status, the mental health pros we talked to said porn addiction is a real struggle. In his experience working with clients, Dr. Weiner says that the shame people have about their compulsive porn use can tank their self-esteem, make them feel trapped, and result in them watching more porn to manage those feelings. It might also lead to anxiety and depression, says VanLoon. 

What are porn addiction symptoms?

There isn’t an official list of symptoms for porn addiction, but if you’re wondering if someone’s porn consumption is problematic and impacting their mental health, here’s what experts and the World Health Organization say to look out for. 

1. Porn is the only way you cope with life.

A big reason why some people become so invested in porn is because they’re using it as a way to cope with something they’re struggling with, says Dr. Weiner. Maybe they got into a fight with their partner or got a bad review at work, or maybe they’re trying to manage their depression. “Watching porn and masturbating can potentially provide escapism or create pleasure very quickly, so it’s easy to come back to it,” Dr. Weiner explains. 

For a lot of people who experience porn addiction, porn is the sole coping skill they’re using to deal with big life issues or even small inconveniences, says VanLoon. Instead of calling a friend or going for a walk, they feel like porn is the only way they can get by and feel better, adds Dr. Weiner. 

To be clear, it’s OK to sometimes cope by watching porn—just like it’s fine to pour yourself a glass of wine after a stressful day. But when it’s the only  thing you do to deal, and you start to feel like you can’t function without it, then that’s an issue, says VanLoon.

2. It’s taking up your time.

There’s no benchmark for how many hours of porn per week qualifies as an addiction. But, in general, if you’re spending multiple hours a day and/or getting physically sore (if you’re masturbating at the same time), that could be a sign you’re overdoing it, says Dr. Weiner. 

That time suck can often impact your day-to-day existence. Unlike someone who had a really rough day and just wants to kick back and watch porn, addiction happens when porn consistently dominates your mind and time, Dr. Weiner notes.  

You might rely on porn so much that you ignore your responsibilities. You’d rather watch porn than eat, take your dog out, or be in a work meeting, for example, says VanLoon. 

And we’re not just talking about one afternoon where you binge-watched porn instead of going outside. According to the ICD-11, compulsive sexual behavior disorder (see: porn addiction) lasts six months or longer. That said, Dr. Weiner has worked with clients who were addicted to porn after relying on it over the course of a few months. You might realize that porn is messing with your life and want to cut back, but you can’t, Dr. Weiner adds.

3. It’s not fun anymore.

For someone who is addicted to porn, feeling good isn’t really the main goal. Instead, watching porn becomes a way to relieve the negative tension that comes from not  watching it, explains Dr. Weiner. Basically, it’s more about trying to not feel bad rather than trying to feel good, he says.

In fact, people who are struggling with porn addiction often keep engaging with it “even when the individual derives little or no satisfaction from it,” per the ICD-11.

4. You think about porn a lot.

When you’re addicted to porn, not only does it take up a lot of time, but it takes up a ton of mental real estate too. Your brain looks forward to porn since it’s become this thing you rely on to get a hit of dopamine and feel good, Dr. Weiner explains. You have urges to watch it, so you might be thinking about porn at times when you’d rather not—like daydreaming at work, Dr. Weiner says. Or you might be imagining porn just to escape what’s happening in the real world, notes VanLoon. 

5. You watch porn at inappropriate times.

This may seem like an obvious one, but someone who is not  having issues with porn would most likely stick to watching it in the privacy of their own home. One sign that you’re falling into addiction territory is if you’re using porn when it’s really not advisable to, like while you’re driving or at work, says Dr. Weiner. That can happen when you’re trying to get through the day but porn is all you’re thinking about, he explains.

6. You may not enjoy sex as much.

Someone who uses porn a ton may have a harder time enjoying their sex life for a number of reasons. One of the biggies: Porn addiction sometimes makes it difficult to stay present and connected with the person you’re physically with because you’re fantasizing about whatever you’ve been watching on-screen, says VanLoon. Also, if you used porn so much or stayed up using it, you might be too tired to enjoy the real thing, she adds. As you can imagine, this can take a toll on your romantic or sexual relationships.

7. If you stop using porn, you feel super uneasy.

When someone dependent on drugs or alcohol cuts them out of their life and gets sober, they can have physiological and mental symptoms of chemical withdrawal, like nausea, insomnia, and mood changes, according to the American Psychological Association. If you’re addicted to porn, you wouldn’t go through the same thing, but you still might be on edge, moody, and uncomfortable as you avoid acting on your urges, says Dr. Weiner. If you’ve done something over and over, you’re going to feel weird when your brain is asking for that thing and you’re not giving it what it wants, he says. That sucks, but with the right help, you can get through it. 

How is porn addiction treated? 

Therapy can help you cut down on your porn use, learn other coping mechanisms to deal with your urges, and manage your shameful thoughts around porn, says VanLoon. A therapist can also enable you to deal with any underlying mental health struggles you might be using porn to cope with, like depression or trauma, Dr. Weiner says. 

When it comes to finding a mental health pro, look into therapists who have experience treating porn addiction or addiction in general. VanLoon also recommends a certified sex addiction therapist (CSAT) or a sex therapist (CST) because they can help normalize your sexual desires without shaming them. That’s extra helpful since people with this kind of addiction often feel like they can’t talk about something as stigmatizing as porn. So working with a therapist who has training in sexuality and desires can make them feel more understood. “You’re not wrong or bad or shameful for [watching porn]. Your desires are completely normal. It’s what you do with them and how you talk to yourself about them [that matters],” VanLoon says.

Outside of therapy, support groups like Porn Addicts Anonymous or Sex Addicts Anonymous can help too, says VanLoon. Building a healthy community during recovery is incredibly important because feeling alone in your struggles only makes things worse. Finding acceptance makes a big difference for people going through porn addiction, notes VanLoon.

The bottom line: If you feel like you have a problematic relationship with porn and you want to stop using it, there are people who can help.

The post 7 Signs of Porn Addiction appeared first on Wondermind.

Pro Tips Link Copied 01.04.24

Just Some Advice for Anyone Starting 2024 at Rock Bottom

New year, new low? We gotchu. BySam Brodsky

We’ve all heard the term “rock bottom,” or hitting what feels like the lowest point in your life. It’s not an actual mental health condition and can mean different things to different people. But the gist of any rock bottom moment is that it can seem like most of your life is going to shit, says clinical psychologist and certified grief professional Cynthia Shaw, PsyD.

Sometimes it’s sparked by a bunch of external factors that are mostly out of your control, like a mental health struggle, a death, being laid off, or getting dumped. Other times, your actions might’ve contributed to arriving at that low point, like flunking a class, substance misuse, or burning out.

[Doing too much? Reset your mindset by signing up for Wondermind’s 7-Day Do-Less Challenge!]

Regardless of how you got there, hitting rock bottom can make you feel depressed, anxious, lonely, or just pretty awful about yourself, Dr. Shaw says. 

Obviously, starting a new year this way sucks. When you’re stuck in that emotional pit, the New Year, New You vibes of January can leave you feeling ashamed for not making gains, says licensed therapist Cammie Terry, LPC, NCC.

So, if you’re struggling right now, here’s how you can cope with your sadness, squash the negative self-talk, and get unstuck.

Name what you can and can’t control.

It’s easy to spiral about the stuff that you can’t really change, like losing a job, a friend, or whatever it is, but that only makes you feel worse. So give yourself a tiny push by identifying what you can’t control about your situation and shifting your focus to what you can, suggests Dr. Shaw. 

Let’s say you’re down because you lost your job. To inch away from your rock bottom feels, have a friend proofread your resume, browse LinkedIn while you’re bed rotting, reach out to a coworker who always had your back, or network with acquaintances in your industry. You can’t do much about layoffs, but making the next move is fair game.

Pro tip: If you’re a visual person, you can even make a list of what’s out of your control and what’s very much in it, suggests Terry. Put your energy into the one that you have power over and forget the rest. 

Put negative self-talk on trial.

It’s pretty common to internalize the small stuff when you’re at your lowest, says Terry. Maybe your friends bail last minute on plans. Your rock bottom self might sound something like: I’m an annoying human, and they don’t like me…and no one does. That’s definitely not helpful in this moment (or any other, to be honest).

Instead of buying into that narrative, ask yourself if these are facts. Chances are, that internal voice is stuck in “distorted thinking” mode, says Terry. So are you really  an annoying, friendless human? Didn’t those same people hang out with you plenty of other times? Didn’t they say they want to get together soon?

There’s a possibility that you’ll dig up some evidence to support your negative thoughts. Like, maybe this isn’t the first time your one “friend” canceled on you and, for whatever reason, they actually do find you annoying. In that case, you can go back to focusing on what is in your control—maybe you need to cut out this frenemy and make future plans with the people you love (and who love you). 

Be nicer to yourself.

You can also cancel out negativity by saying nice things to yourself. If you’re not used to this, it might sound weird and unconvincing at first—it’s true. Still, using positive self-talk consistently can help you buy into those kind words, says Terry. You can try positive affirmations like “I’m worthy of love and belonging,” “I am enough,” or “I give myself permission to care for myself, love myself, and nurture myself,” she suggests. If affirmations aren’t it, you can write a letter hyping yourself up. Remind yourself that you can do hard things because you’ve done them before, Terry adds. 

If nice self-talk isn’t clicking, think about how you’d treat a close friend or stranger, suggests Casey L., 28, who started 2023 at rock bottom because of alcohol issues and is now 10 months sober. She literally looks at herself in the mirror when she’s struggling and says, “Damn, I’m so proud of you.” Or she reminds herself that she’s strong for getting and staying sober. “From my perspective, positive self-talk when you’re at rock bottom is a small window into what your future can look like,” she explains. 

Cut back on social media.

Doomscrolling won’t help if you’re depressed, and seeing cute families on your FYP won’t make you feel great when you’re dealing with toxic fam members. So, if you find that social media is doing more harm than good, blocking, unsubscribing, muting, unfollowing, or deleting the apps altogether can eliminate that source of sadness.

Hailey T.*, 29, who’s experiencing rock bottom after a breakup with her fiancé, says scrolling on social media sometimes makes her feel worse. That’s because she’ll see a random tarot reading on TikTok that gives her false hope they’ll get back together or she’ll fall into a rabbit hole of stalking her ex’s exes on IG, she says. To combat that, she’s unfollowing people and setting limits for how long she’s on the apps.

Find small wins. 

Accomplishing a tiny task each day—and then upping that to two or three when you’re ready—proves you can support yourself in tough times, notes Terry. Even if it’s just making tea or getting out of bed, when you follow through on that stuff, you’re “showing yourself, I am going to take care of myself. I’m not abandoning myself.” And that can boost your motivation to keep progressing, she explains. 

For Casey L., taking walks every day and frequently going to Alcoholics Anonymous helped keep her accountable and feel less stuck, she says. Giving herself small tasks also made her feel a bit better—even if it was just picking out clothes the night before. “It’s so simple, but it’s something to be proud of,” she says. 

Think about the little things that make you feel accomplished and congratulate yourself when you do them.

Find some physical joy. 

Despair or hopelessness can be overwhelming, says Terry. So when you’re in the thick of it, turn to self-soothing to ease that mental state. Terry suggests doing things that make each of your senses happy: Put on a comfort show, grab that blanket you love, light a candle, and break out some snacks. You’re about to feel a lot better.

Lean on hobbies.

Casey L. says she didn’t feel like herself when she was at rock bottom but diving into playing music, beatboxing, and painting helped in a couple of ways. The first was that it filled the time she’d normally spend drinking. It also helped her realize she had a lot to look forward to and made the time pass faster (in a good way). 

If you’re feeling off, find something fun and mindless to do like reading a cringe-but-cute romance novel, messing with ChatGPT, or doing some serious doodling. Try anything you used to love (or think you might really enjoy) but have been avoiding.

Get some support.

When you hit rock bottom (especially in the new year) you might feel deep loneliness or just unsure of what to do next, says Dr. Shaw. It can seem like you’re the only one struggling, she adds. So talking to friends, family, or a mental health professional can help you recognize that other people have been through dark times before and there are ways you can move forward. 

Mental health pros specifically can help if you’re having suicidal thoughts, which Dr. Shaw says may happen to some people who’ve hit their lowest point. There’s always the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 too.

Chatting about your rock bottom is also just really damn cathartic. For example, telling her therapist that she has a drinking problem helped Casey L. gain a sense of control. “I realized in January of 2023, here I am and nothing’s changing. I’m drinking more. I’m drinking alone. I’m drinking to forget. I’m smoking every day. And that’s when I had this revelation: If I speak about it, I don’t give substances the power. I have the power,” she says. “So many weights were lifted off of my chest. It felt like saying it out loud made it not as scary, and it gave me the power over the substances. … I felt like, for the first time, I took my power back.”

Practice patience.

It’s easy for anyone starting the new year at their lowest to put a timeline on their progress, notes Dr. Shaw. But that just invalidates your feelings and makes it even harder if you don’t meet your feel-better deadline, she adds. It can take a while to notice a change in your emotions or start getting stuff done, so don’t worry about that arbitrary bullshit. You got this, however long it takes. “Don’t get caught up in what you think you need to do,” Casey L. says. “To change overnight is not feasible for anybody. … One little step is still a step in the right direction.”

*Name has been changed.

The post Just Some Advice for Anyone Starting 2024 at Rock Bottom appeared first on Wondermind.

Stories Link Copied 05.23.23

12 People Get Candid About Living With Addiction

If this hits close to home, you’re not alone. ByJay Deitcher

If you’ve ever consumed literally any type of media, you’ve probably been flooded with ideas of what it’s like to be an addict (looking at you, Skins and Charlie Sheen interviews). In pop culture, people with addiction issues are often portrayed as sexy, creative, and tragic all at once. You typically see stories of addiction reduced to one-dimensional cautionary tales of drug or alcohol use gone bad. Other times, addiction is glamorized as the vice of brilliant, creative people, like in nearly every biopic where a white male character falls from grace one moment and drafts a killer song the next.

In reality, addiction can look different for everyone. In my early 20s, I started using alcohol and sleeping pills to cope with the anxiety I struggled with since I was a kid. I stopped leaving my childhood bedroom and started cracking cans of malt liquor in the dark, afraid to go outside. When I used, I wanted to be that hot drunk rockstar, but I was more like the fried egg brain from the Partnership For A Drug-Free America PSA. (Yep, in my case, they were kind of on to something with those ads). 

My life revolved around the first sip each day: a flash of fire blazing through my veins, making everything alright for just a moment. As much as I wanted to turn back, I was hooked on alcohol for years and felt trapped by shame. “Many people still view addictions as simple habits that can be stopped at any point,” says therapist Jennifer Covarrubias, LMFT, clinical director at the Mental Health Center of San Diego. But, for many, addiction of any kind (even porn addiction) is a form of coping that helps people survive. And choosing to be sober can become a daily battle, she adds. “That lack of understanding perpetuates the cycle of shame and stigma surrounding addiction.”

Through the years, I began a cycle of relapses, with brief stops in hospital detoxes, and I quickly lost faith that I could ever get sober, telling myself, “Why try?” This lack of hope seeped through everything in my life: jobs, relationships, family. 

In 2006, at the age of 25, I finally gave sobriety a shot, accepting that I had no clue how to live life sober but could no longer survive drinking. I sought support in self-help groups, but it took years away from pills and alcohol before I was able to brush off my shame and hopelessness and recognize my potential.

As someone recovering from substance misuse, reading or seeing more nuanced portrayals of addiction—and different types of addiction—could have helped me feel less alone sooner. And, for the people who care about me, these honest addiction quotes might’ve helped them get a better understanding of what I was going through before I was able to explain it myself. That’s why hearing the stories of people who actually know what addiction is like can be so crucial for generating more compassion and empathy around this mental health struggle.  

Here, 11 people who faced different kinds of addictions share their journey and what the road to recovery looked like for them.

1. It was fun—until it wasn’t. 

“When I first got into gambling in my early 30s, I loved sports already, so it seemed like an awesome source of income. A lot of people don’t understand how fun gambling addiction is. It’s fun to circle games in the newspaper that you’re gonna bet on. It’s fun to delude yourself into thinking you have an edge. But eventually, it overtook my free time. My friends and I would be out with our girlfriends, and we’d be staring at a TV in the corner of the bar, not talking to people. I’d sneak to the bathroom to check scores. I’d wake up each morning and immediately pore over results. It got so consuming that when I was visiting my dad who was in the hospital for cancer surgery, I ducked out to the hospital’s public computer to place bets. On top of that, I was losing. I waited longer than I should have to say, ‘this is enough,’ but when I was around 34, I finally quit and did not look back.” —John B., 56

2. Pain relievers made me feel like a better mother. 

“I was prescribed pain relievers to recover from a C-section, and in addition to helping the pain, it helped relieve some of the symptoms from my postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety. About seven months later, I was in a completely different mental state. I was depressed and anxious and suicidal and homicidal. And when I was diagnosed with endometriosis, doctors gave me more pain relievers, and it just made everything seem a little more bearable. I felt like the pills allowed me to be a better mother because I felt better about myself when I was taking them. The drugs didn’t get rid of my depression and anxiety, but they made my mind feel calmer, so life felt manageable. 

Although my son was always my priority, I also had a job to find as many pills as possible. That meant I did embarrassing, horrible things like invite myself over for a playdate in order to search another parent’s medicine cabinet.

This past January, I celebrated seven years sober. Life has still been difficult, especially when I lost my sister to suicide in 2018, but I didn’t need opiates to get through. Instead, I tapped into therapy. I’ve been on medication to support my mental health, and I try hard to be present and to savor the moments I have with my kids.” —Jen S., 45

3. I ate when I wasn’t hungry. 

“I had received mixed messages growing up from my mother and my grandmother, who would tell me I had to eat, but I couldn’t eat too much. I have been put on diets since the time I was born. I felt completely unlovable, and the only solution that I had for that shame was eating. 

After my food addiction worsened, I developed high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and diabetes. My doctor wanted to put me on medications, and I had adverse reactions to those medications. Then I found a community of others working on their food addiction, and for the most part, they helped me learn to eat in a much better way. I also discovered a newfound love for working out. Maybe it’s replacing one addiction with another, the way someone replaces drinking with going to Alcoholics Anonymous, but exercising has provided such quality to my life.” —Joan P., 63

4. I was missing out on real connections. 

“As soon as I felt sadness or anything other than elation, I would find somebody to flirt with. Sex and love addicts can have unhealthy relationships, and we can create drama to escape negative feelings. When I’d meet someone I was attracted to, I’d get a jolt, like a cattle prod. I would assign magical qualities to them, and the moment they didn’t live up to that fantasy of being there for me all the time (texting me back instantly and all those unrealistic things we put on other human beings), the high wore off, the butterflies dispersed, the bottom would drop out, and I would see the real person. It was like the drug was gone, so I’d think, Who’s my next victim?

When I hit my bottom, I thought, Am I going to be on my deathbed having never fully connected to another person? I realized I was going to do this forever, and I decided I couldn’t.

There’s so much shame around being a sex and love addict, especially as a woman, but I refuse to have shame over this. Today, I’m fully connected to everyone in my life. I’ve been happily married for 18 years, and I have a son that I show up for 100% emotionally with clear boundaries. I have stable relationships with my family of origin. I have no one in my life that causes drama. I am free from the bondage of my own making. It’s a beautiful way to live, no longer using other people to complete me. I’m whole.” —Brianne D., 41

5. I sought validation on Twitter.

“When I was younger, I would have panic attacks when I didn’t have access to the internet. One day, I was away from a computer all day, attending school, visiting Ellis Island, and going to a doctor’s appointment. I was in three states in one day, and I freaked out in public because I was unable to get online. 

As a millennial and someone with autism, I get a dopamine rush from trying to speak with celebrities on social media. I often feel like I am one click away from talking with a famous movie star. … A celebrity messaged me once when my mother was dying from cancer to offer me well wishes on Twitter. Now, I’m constantly trying to repeat that interaction. Growing up with a disability was hard, and pop culture allowed me to escape. Getting validation from the people I idolized seemed to bring me into their worlds. Today, I focus on relationships with people who are part of my real life.” —Jennifer R., 26

6. I was in survival mode. 

“I grew up uber-privileged in Laguna Beach and Newport Beach, California. But all of that privilege never protected me from being molested as a child. At age 15, I began selling my body for sex—not that I needed the money, but that’s the way that trauma energy began to come out. I also became addicted to cocaine, going into survival mode. And at the same time, I became an overachiever, attending New York University and becoming a journalist. 

Eventually, I found myself getting high in the parking lot of KTLA 5, the station I worked at in Los Angeles. One night I overdosed and was found nearly dead behind a dumpster. I was in a coma for about a week. The staff wanted to call my friends and family to come to the hospital, but no one knew about my drug use. I wasn’t ready to face that reality. 

I walked out of the hospital, walked down Hollywood Boulevard, found my truck, and got high. In a matter of days, I overdosed again and ended up in the same ER, with the same team of doctors. I was shown a lot of empathy and compassion by a frontline nurse who made me promise to attend an AA meeting when I got out. My recovery journey began that day.” —Brandon L., 43

7. I was going to hurt myself or someone else.

“My mother told me to stay off the streets and not to use drugs, so I used alcohol. When you start drinking, it’s hard to believe that you could become an addict. You think because you are just having fun and everyone drinks that you will never end up like whatever drunk stereotype you concocted in your head. But once I started drinking, I didn’t want to stop. 

To fund my addiction, I started stealing credit cards and counterfeiting money orders, selling them on the black market. After getting busted by the cops, I planned to end my life to avoid the consequences. I drank two bottles, but I couldn’t do it. 

Instead, I went to a drug program. I felt like I had no other options. I needed help. I was going to hurt myself or hurt someone else. When I got to the nurses’ station, I spoke up, saying, ‘I have a drug and alcohol problem.’ Vocalizing that was part of the healing.” —Douglas C., 58

8. Smoking decided my relationships. 

“Smoking was way harder to quit than alcohol. Smoking permeates every aspect of your life. Your relationships are based on who you are smoking with next to a dumpster, and you have nothing in common with them except you are addicted. What’s really crazy is you don’t know how to interact in social situations when you don’t have a cigarette in your hand. 

Everyone knows how dangerous smoking is, and yet we continue to smoke anyway. I wouldn’t drive without my seatbelt, but my chances of dying while smoking are much higher than having a car accident. After 47 years away from smoking, I don’t even think about it anymore. Unless there’s a smoker sitting in front of me.” —Allen S., 73

9. I craved the rollercoaster of emotions. 

“From age 14, I always had a boyfriend, and it was fabulous and fun. It wasn’t until I got older that I recognized that I’m addicted to that high you get from being in love and [going through] love’s ups and downs. Sometimes when you’re upset or fighting, you feel more alive, so I would go off the deep end over anything I felt was a slight to trigger that adrenaline. 

I was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder, but eventually, I met a great psychiatrist who [helped me]. … I did the work in therapy and treatment, and it rewired my way of relating to others. Patterns can be broken, and mine was.” —Gwen S.*

10. I had no choice but to use. 

“When I first got sober in 2008, I looked for recovery books to help me, but I never found any that were written by a woman who looked like me. And any Black woman’s story that I found included drug dens and prostitution, which are really important stories to tell, but don’t reflect my experience. From the outside, my life looked enviable. I was the parent association president at my kid’s school, and I was throwing dinner parties. But inside, I was dying.

I think there is a misconception that people choose addiction over something. The misconception might have been that I chose addiction over my children, yet if I had had any say in the matter, I would have chosen my kids over and over and over again. The addiction tricked me into believing that, without drugs, I was going to die. I understood fully that the longer I continued to indulge, the worse the pain would be when I gave it up. And yet, I was so terrified of the pain that I kept going.” —Laura C. R., 58

11. Rock bottom looked different than I expected. 

“What I’ve learned through my personal experiences and through the experience of helping others is that rock bottom is when you decide to put the shovel down and stop digging. My bottom was an emotional rock bottom. My whole family had stopped talking to me. Friends had cut me off. I was alone and looking for a way out. I was thinking about ending my life when, at that exact moment, I received a phone call from my mom telling me she wished I was home for Christmas. It helped me recognize a reason I needed to get sober, because I wanted my family back in my life.” —Pravesh P., 27 

*Name has been changed. 

Quotes have been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

The post 12 People Get Candid About Living With Addiction appeared first on Wondermind.

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What I Wish Someone Told Me About Getting Sober at 25

I could have saved myself many years of struggling through sober life. ByJay Deitcher

[Heads up: This article deals with substance misuse, in case you want to skip it.] 

I started drinking and misusing pharmaceuticals and alcohol because I was terrified of interacting with others. As a teen, I knew something was wrong, but instead of seeking help for my anxiety, I thought it was just an aspect of my personality that I had to suffer through, and booze and pills seemed to make life tolerable. When I started drinking heavily during my junior year of high school, alcohol gave me the confidence to interact with my peers. I stumbled through parties cracking jokes about myself and falling on my face. My drunken antics made people laugh, and I finally felt accepted. 

But the booze turned on me. Within a few years, I became a recluse, drinking alone in my childhood bedroom. I told myself that I’d never drink and drive, yet numerous times, I found myself behind the wheel. Then there was the time I came to in the middle of the road with blood caked on my face. Turns out, I’d fallen while walking from my car to a party. 

Days disappeared into drunken hazes or they slothed past me, and nothing brought me joy. Actually, some research in lab animals suggests that substance misuse can throw the brain’s reward system out of whack, making normally pleasurable activities like eating great food unappealing. At the time, I felt incredibly alone in my substance misuse. But, as a 2020 survey suggests, about 8.2 million people in the U.S. aged 18 to 25 reported having a substance use disorder within the past year—it’s wildly common. That said, the same survey suggests that only about 445,000 of people 18 to 25 received treatment for a substance use disorder. 

Being the youngest person in the locked ward 

So maybe that’s why my age made me feel even more isolated during my first visit to a local drug and alcohol detox facility, where people can go through the substance withdrawal process under medical supervision, which can last more than a week. “Man, you’re a baby,” I remember some guy telling me. “I wish I got my life together at that age,” another patient said. “At 22, I was just getting started.”

I was furious. It seemed like I was the youngest person in the locked ward, where thick metal doors kept patients inside, yet I was vibrating just like everyone else. I was popping the same pharmaceuticals to smooth out the delirium tremens (DTs), otherwise known as a severe and potentially fatal form of alcohol withdrawal. I was sweating out the same booze. Paranoid. Hallucinating. Cut off from friends and family. 

By this point, I knew my body was violently dependent on the drugs, but it still seemed unfair that I was crawling into detox in my early 20s when it felt like everyone else got to pop pills and down booze deep into their 30s, 40s, or even 70s.

Trial and error   

When I left detox a week later, I could’ve gone to a rehab facility that would’ve plucked me out of my old life and offered months of learning sober living skills, but I was convinced I could do it on my own. I was terrified of digging into months of therapy to learn exactly how messed up I was. 

And, as I’m told by experts, that’s a pretty common mindset. “People who tend to rely on substances typically are trying to avoid something else,” says psychiatrist Gayani DeSilva, MD, author of A Psychiatrist’s Guide: Stop Teen Addiction Before It Starts. “They may have had trauma in their life, they may have anxiety, they may have mood issues. They tend to have a hard time tolerating feelings of being uncomfortable, feeling pain, or feeling sad. They start to use substances to compensate or to help them adjust or help them deal with those states. Then their limbic system, the emotional regulation system, starts to rely on the substances to manage their feelings of comfortability.” 

So, instead of figuring out how to deal with my emotions, I re-entered the world lacking any coping skills that could help me stay away from unhealthy people, places, and things, and push past an urge to use. I still hadn’t learned about managing my anxiety. 

Cravings soon kicked in, and I was overwhelmed with the emotions I’d been suffocating for years. I spent days and nights regretting mistakes I’d made, pining to get an ex back. I brooded over ways I felt my family had harmed me, mistakes my parents made, and cousins who turned their backs on me during my addiction.

Within a month, I was back in my bedroom downing cans of malt liquor. Three months later, I was in the same detox ward. Doctors recommended that, after the detox, I check into an inpatient rehab for 28 days. Instead, I agreed to attend a less intense outpatient rehab that was supposed to teach me to cope with my addiction several mornings each week for months. I was kicked out within three months after taking a couple days off from sobriety.

The last time I used, I ended up going on a two-year tear, using booze and drugs every night as if it were my last. In truth, I stopped trying to get sober, telling myself I’d just relapse. This mindset seeped into everything in my life. My early 20s were spent dropping in and out of college. I never attempted an internship, never joined clubs, never saw a future I cared to work toward. I was just an addict, I thought, so why try? 

That’s a common mentality among people who misuse substances because we tend to identify with the disease and lose sight of who we are, says clinical psychologist Allen Berger, PhD. Plus, “to seek something like a career, which takes a lot of work, takes a lot of being able to tolerate disappointment and pain and frustration and delayed gratification, that’s really hard to do when your brain is used to immediate gratification or immediate dopamine rushes,” says Dr. DeSilva. “So when you’re stuck in the addiction, you can’t really see beyond [the next drink or drug].”

The next chapter 

Somehow, the December before I turned 25, I graduated with an English degree, carrying a sub-2.0 GPA. The moment I left my last class, I found myself staring at the edge of the precipice, realizing I was suddenly expected to get a “real” job, pay my own insurance, get my own apartment, and become a functional member of society. 

I had no clue how to live life sober, but I knew I could never accomplish these things while using. I was tired. Tired of boozing-up in the back room of my part-time mall job in order to barely function, and tired of living with my parents but hardly speaking with them.

So, after one final weeklong binge six days before I hit 25, I poured it all down the drain and shook out the DTs in my parents’ basement without any medical assistance (because my insurance had run dry). Even though I couldn’t afford rehab, I was desperate to learn the skills to live a productive life, to have friends, to heal my family, to stop hiding in the dark of my room, fearing life. 

I looked up self-help meetings and went searching in the 12-step rooms for a former coworker of mine. I knew he had turned his life around after falling into drugs, so I wanted his help to do the same for me. I didn’t find him there, but his friends welcomed me and offered guidance. 

“Nobody does anything without help,” says Dr. DeSilva. “People need support and they need other people around them to boost them up and say, ‘Hey, you’re drowning, take my hand, take resources that are available to you.’”

In the 12-step groups, I relearned social skills, showing up to meetings early, pushing myself to interact with others. I slowly worked through my anxiety of interacting with humans, though I was still years off from being willing to try medication for it. I got a new gig: brewing pots of coffee before meetings so everyone could enjoy. I learned how to manage responsibility and show up on time, which gave me the confidence to jump into the job market. 

Finding my future 

I had spent so many years lost in a sea of booze that it took almost a decade of sobriety before I was able to recognize that getting sober didn’t solve all my problems: I needed help with my anxiety and needed to open myself up to medication. 

I also had no idea what my interests were beyond using drugs and drinking, so I tried out different career fields, spending years doing things I didn’t enjoy. I never even realized I had options, never thought I could have a life I loved, so this was all brand new to me.

First, I fell into working in the social services industry, something that felt like I was making amends for the years I had done nothing of value for society. Eventually, I yearned for a calmer life, so I went back to school again, propelled by a new passion to learn. After years of building up my confidence, I enrolled in a writing program, finally feeling like I could build a path toward a future I enjoyed. 

For nearly five years after getting sober, I didn’t have the time—or social skills—to enter a relationship, but I met a girl, and we started a family. Today, I find joy as a former social worker who writes about mental health and spends his days as a stay-at-home dad.

Maybe I could have continued using until I was 70, but I don’t spend much time contemplating what-ifs. Today, I live a productive, sober life, grateful that I don’t find myself locked in detoxes and telling younger people that I wish I stayed sober at their age. 

Still, I could have saved myself many years of struggling through sober life if I realized that I had choices. I wish I knew how much potential I had, wish I knew that I deserved to make life moves that made me happy. Even sober, I spent a long time still viewing myself as an ex-addict who was destined to fail at life, but in reality, I’m a human who can achieve most anything if I open myself up to learn.

The post What I Wish Someone Told Me About Getting Sober at 25 appeared first on Wondermind.