COVID and addiction

Don't lock up an addict with 24 hour access to what she is addicted to.

I tried to stay away, I really did.  But the stress of this era, whether that stress is right out in the open or more underground, has been working on me, as it has on all of us.  I am a weak woman and, one of those days when I woke up feeling empty and hollow and sad, I turned again to Candy Crush, my old nemesis.

I have a history with Candy Crush.  Sweet Hubby discovered it first and introduced me to it (damn him!).  When he realized he was becoming addicted, he simply gave it up.  He has that kind of spine.  No fuss, no withdrawal (that I was aware of).  He just stopped.  By that time, I was into it, and enjoying it tremendously.  The colors.  The challenge of progression through ever more difficult levels.  The ease with which hours could pass without me having to make the slightest effort or think the slightest thought.

I've never had a problem with addiction.  I used to smoke, but would give it up the moment I had a boyfriend.  I've never been a drinker.  I like my food, but not overly.  I like to puff, but I can also go for days without, and pot has never been a gateway to anything harder for me. But Candy Crush really got its hooks into me.  I would play and play and play, and when I ran out of lives and had to wait, I often felt as though I were just marking time until I could play again.

This is all very embarrassing to admit.

I knew I was addicted when I started to realize all the things I could have been doing instead, such as writing, exercising, being with friends, being out in nature, reading, taking care of the house - well, pretty much everything else.  I really knew I was addicted when I began to be ashamed of playing.  I really really knew I was addicted when I started telling Sweet Hubby that I was going to stop and then didn't and lied about it.  He and I don't lie to one another.  That's just not part of our marriage, ever.  I kept making promises to myself, and kept breaking them.  So finally, when I couldn't stand myself any more, I finally made a sacred promise to SH, and for a while reported to him every day that I hadn't played that day.

I guess an addiction to a video game isn't really comparable to an addiction to drugs or alcohol or whatever else, but this sure gave me an insider's look at what it is to have something outside yourself driving and swallowing your life.  And I also realized that two ferociously strong factors keep one addicted.  One, of course, is avoidance of withdrawal.  For me, it only lasted about a week, and by the end of that week, I wasn't really thinking about CC any more, no longer wishing I could play it, no longer sneaking off in my imagination for a few covert games.  The second factor, even more insidious, is that the addict loves what she is addicted to.  Loves it.  Adores it and the feelings it inspires or, more to the point, the feelings it allows her - me - not to experience.  Playing CC for me was a lot about not having to listen to those demon voices which tell me I should be writing and then tell me I'm no good at it when I do; not having to feel the loss of my Mom and then my Dad; not having to feel all the acid and upset and outrage about Trump.  I could disappear into a tiny, colorful, cheerful world of digital candy and not think or feel anything else.

I did stayed away from CC for quite a while, but on one of those recent days when I woke up with that hollow feeling, that sense of purposelessness, of entrapment, I turned once again to Candy Crush.  And loved it again, and got addicted again.  And once again, the promises I made to myself were worthless.  I give myself back doors almost at the moment I'm promising.  So I had to swallow my shame and admit to SH that I was addicted again, and that promise has kept me true.  Fortunately I caught myself pretty early this time, so the withdrawal hasn't been bad.  And I'm so very lucky that SH has not once made me feel judged or diminished, but just asks if there's anything I need him to do to help me keep my promise.  There isn't; I just need to make my confession out loud, straight to his face.

When those empty, depressed days come along, I do my best to stay in action, whether it's pulling weeds, or chipping away at my writing, or cleaning out the refrigerator, or going for a walk, or reading.  The available activities are limited these days, but come on, Granny Owl.  Use your imagination.  Keep moving.  This is life right now, not a waiting period, but actual life, to be lived and savored and filled.

I miss Candy Crush, though.  So, like a good addict, I go one day at a time.