Can You Relapse On Legal Herbal Remedies?

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When I first got clean, my brain was desperate to escape itself.

From excess exercise to binge chewing while binge viewing, if it wasn’t alcohol or a drug, I was on it. In fact, in the absence of the true pharmaceuticals I craved, I chronically sought a pot of coffee out, daily, to cure my cognitive woes. (I’m talking the whole thing.) In fact, I still get that Pavlovian salivation response the second someone utters “Starbucks”. There’d be no work, “peopling”, or general productivity until caffeine happened. And, the moment my latte levels began to wane, I required more to remain compliant with staying on task. And I had to wonder… why? Why was this okay?


(Spoiler alert: it’s a question only we respectively know the answer to)

Well, because it’s legal, I reasoned. And that makes it okay, right? Yeah, there’s something in that that never quite rang right for me. If you step into any step meeting (AA, NA, GA – yes, “Gamer’s Anonymous” is a thing – further proving my point) you’ll hear that there’s always a potential for us addicts to use “people, places, and things”. Anything. We can let anything destroy us – from Ativan to Grand Theft Auto. (Like the ex I dated who flunked out’ve school thanks to video games #TakesOneToDateOne) Or, in my case, the fifth cup of coffee on New Years day that sent me into a panic attack so severe that it legitimately could’ve passed for a stroke or death by tetanus.

Yet, you walk into any Anonymous meeting, and what’s the first thing you smell?

Aside from fear and withdrawal sweats?

Freshly brewed coffee. That’s the first thing you smell.

In the beginning, I drank so much caffeine because it gave me a personality. A faux sense of zest for life. A reason to wake up. Fast forward to now, and I’ve got enough of that. I’ve put in the work. My cavalcade of habits are now my personality. So, what do I crave now? Man, I just want a way to calm down at night. So I call on cups of teas and other holistic over the counter remedies that are “okay because they’re legal”. However, deep down, I know that “legality” is irrelevant when it comes to the fiendish demon residing in my mind. I have to ask myself, am I ending the night too early when there are more things I need to do? Previously, I’d wear myself out with productivity. Now, that there’s a calm-down option awaiting me, is it my shortcut? Am I cognitively clocking out because subconsciously I just wanna avoid the duties that being a human requires? I ask myself all these things, from an objective level… and I react accordingly. The Sleepytime tea or Valerian root patiently waits until the studying’s all done. Or the laundry. Or the dishes. On the surface, it sounds like I’m a recovered addict. I mean, someone who can scale back and make that assessment clearly knows how to moderate, right? That means I could be someone who could extend that to the occasional glass of cabernet, right? And, while that might be true, it’s a game of Russian roulette I’m not willing to play. My over the counter anxiety extinguishers aren’t nearly as habit forming as the vat of vodka or viridescent pills I used to carry around like a Christian with a crucifix. What’s more, they don’t cloud my cognition heavily enough that I can’t zoom out and self analyze. Fine wines and pharmaceuticals, on the contrary, do. I mean when was the last time you heard of someone robbing the store for Hyland’s stress relieving tablets?


(“Gimme all your St. John’s Wort ‘n nobody gits hurt!”)

So, when someone asks me where I stand on stuff like CBD oil, I hafta ask – why are you asking? I’ll tell you why. You’re not asking for my sake. You don’t care what I do. And that’s good because you shouldn’t. You’re not me. What most want, when they ask this, is confirmation that it’s okay for them to take it themselves. And that’s okay, too. But – again – why? Do you want to take it to relieve anxiety? Is it for pain? CBD is relatively new in the over the counter world, so I couldn’t tell you how it’d effect you. Could you try something that’s been more researched to help you out? What’s more, could you find more intuitive ways to alleviate that pain? (And – more importantly – can you moderate it?) I’ll be honest. I saw CBD, and the first thing I thought of was “legal high”. One that’s not habit forming, to boot. But booting that thought’s exactly what I had to do. Especially when I remembered that one fact my sneaky cerebral demon’s always trying to let me forget:

I can turn anything into a drug.

It can be anything from the latest series I’m sucking through my pupils down to hot chocolate or an afternoon jog. If you bring any associated alleviation – however brief or natural – of mental pain, I can turn you into a drug. Add an unnatural high – something external – and it only adds an extra layer of pain when it comes to peeling that away from me. Now, I can’t say CBD does or doesn’t do this. One reason is because I haven’t tried it. Another is because I keep hearing conflicting reports. Some say it causes nada but body relief from arthritis or anxiety. Others say it feels like that first glass of wine. For me, the uncertainty’s enough to just stick with my certain “tea”. And even that I’m starting to scale back on. Ya know, just in case. (I just like to know I can take or leave my leaves.)

In the end, I’m not knocking the stuff. You’ve gotta do what’s right for you. But that’s exactly what I’m asking. Is it right for you? As addicts, we constantly have to play backseat driver to whatever aspect of ourselves is running our lives. We’ve gotta question and regulate anything external that makes us feel elated, approaching it with cautious optimism – no matter how “legal” it is. So, ask yourself: is there a more natural way to resolve whatever’s making you reach for CBD (or tea or stress tablets or coffee, for that matter) in the first place? Have you tried meditation or yoga? Are you getting enough exercise? Is your anxiety coming from unresolved issues you need to address? If you’re doing all of that and still think CBD might be just the supplement you could safely, occasionally take, then do some legit, evidence based research to see if it looks promising. And, if you decide to give it a try, watch your habits. Make an honest assessment about whether your behavior’s changing. Don’t just ask people who you believe will confirm your hopes that the answer for all your emotional woes lies outside your self. I promise that it doesn’t.

I’ve tried that life.

And I can honestly say, the kick I’m on now is kicking the other one’s arse.

More tips for getting and staying clean this holiday

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As mentioned in the last article, a host of natural remedies helped me get clean.

Exercise. Yoga. Meditation.

But when that wasn’t enough to help me calm down at night, I started trolling the holistic aisle at my local grocer. And I wasn’t disappointed. From Tulsi rose tea with holy basil to magnesium citrate supplements, I found there was a whole world of non habit forming, feel-better stuff I could use to counter the icky feelings making me crave the wrong thing in the first place. Also, I’d started my vegan journey pretty soon into recovery as well. Now, I’m def not saying that you need to be vegan. (I know; that runs counter to what you’d hear most vegans say.) But what I am saying is this: whatever it is you eat, make sure you’re eating clean and non-processed. Because I can’t tell you how many’ve my mood swings and depressive episodes resolved by finally getting a healthy balance of the foods I’d been missing out on – and finally annihilating the high sugar body holocaust that was my diet before. Sometimes (often, actually) it’s not about adding a drug of any kind; it’s about subtracting something bad we don’t need.


(Sometimes just the warmth from a cup of tea’s all the comfort you need.)

And then, once I took care of myself, I could finally do it. I could finally go out and connect with others. My relationships improved infinite-fold once my “me” was sorted out. And I can’t tell you enough how much we need this. Phone a friend. Grab coffee. Serve the homeless. Do something that gets you back in touch with your fellow species members – just make sure none’ve ‘em are the ones you used to get lit with. ‘cause if you do, that’s a slope you’d better have your X-mas sled ready to ride into relapse on.

And what about when you’re all alone? Stay engaged. For me, evenings alone are when I’d find something belly burning-ly funny. Russell Brand (the man who personally urged me into recovery) is one’ve the funniest dudes I know. Try his “Messiah Complex” standup on for size.

Or, better yet, slay two avians with one stone to keep from getting stoned; you can get your laughs and sober inspiration in one place with his new book, “Recovery”. Not into Russ? That’s okay. (I’ll try to forgive you.) Just find something that’s sure to make you lose yourself in levity. From Louis C.K. to old school George Carlin, something’s bound to un-frown your brain.


(Just remember to moderate any and all the things you do. ’cause new fixations can easily lead into older ones.)

So, if you’re set on giving yourself the gift of sobriety this holiday, try out these tips.

And if you’ve been clean for a while, give us a gift too – and comment your own below.

Tips for getting and staying clean this holiday

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Trying to stay sober this holiday?

If your family’s anything like mine, that might be tough.

Ah, yes. The ol’ holiday triggers. Now, some might say I’m still a baby with my sobriety. Sure, I’ve only got four years under my belt. But I’d say I’m doing pretty well for someone who used to look at Valium as not just a crutch – but a social organ she vitally required to survive any sort’ve interaction with fellow species members. And how’d I do it? Just like they say – one second, one breath, one day, one craving, and one calamity – at a time. I listened to people smarter than I am. I did what they did. And, seeing as I did all of that (and got – and stayed – sober) right around the holiday time frame, I’m perfectly equipped to offer a few tips on what got me through during my first clean holiday. And those things’ve continued to serve me to this day.

The first thing I did?

Exercise. When? When I didn’t wanna go to meetings. When my skin felt like it was falling off. When every muscle felt agitated. When the “kicky legs” set in. During any and all’ve that, the elliptical became my best friend. Because I was suffering from a bad back I’d done nothing to help improve (save for popping pharmaceuticals), this low impact cardio was all I could tolerate. But it was perfect. Being able to sweat out the toxins was one reason. The endorphins were another. But, also, I on a psychological level, it also allowed me to feel in control of something when I felt like I’d lost the oars in my life canoe.


(Speaking of oars, rowing’s a great exercise too… Find the right workout for *you*)

And when my head was restless, but my body – not?

That’s when I found yoga and meditation.

Yoga came first. If you’re new to getting clean, you might be able to appreciate why. Ever notice how much simpler it is to move around… than to sit in silence with a not so silent mind? Trying to delve straight away into meditation was downright painful. I’d fidget at the slightest uncomfortable thought, memory, or sensation. That’s why yoga became an ideal segue into it. I’d formerly thought the whole thing was B.S. But, once I gave it a solid try, I came to realize something pretty awesome about my obstinate thoughts – I could make peace with each when they’d arise – in a very physical way. It’s like what that cognitive shaman, Tony Robbins, always says – about how motion generates emotion. The thing is, unlike other forms of activity, yoga helps you focus on facing ‘em down like a warrior – versus running like a li’l bish from them.

So, I did that.

And then, when I’d made peace with them enough to sit with my silent mind, I started doing exactly that. On the regular. Whether it was 5 minutes or 20, I’d take some time each day to just focus, with closed eyes, on nada but my breath. Sounds dumb and easy, right? Right. I thought so, too. But guess what? We’re both wrong. Because evidence based, peer reviewed research shows that both your brain and body can undergo physical (not just woo-woo in-your-belief-system) changes from a simple meditative practice done daily. That’s half of how my back pain began to improve. And it’s 100% of how I came to be able to deal with people and life triggers alike without reminiscing about my pill caddy.

That said, when I did reach for something external, it was in the holistic tea aisle.

Click here to read more….

Russell Brand’s reason for using is probably the same as yours – and mine

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“Why did you first use drugs?”

Those of us in recovery’ve probably asked ourselves this a thousand times over. (And even that’s an underestimate for some) It’s not an inquiry that’s foreign to most of us. We anxiously search our souls for the answer. We review the cringe-worthy memory reel of all the hurt we’ve been through – and caused – while using. It’s overwhelming. And the answer feels so convoluted and complex and extensive, that we’ve difficulty boiling it down to a brief explanation. But, when asked this in a recent interview, Russell Brand, the revolutionary, next-level, eloquent comedian with nearly 15 years clean from meth and heroin, replied simply:

“Pain.”

Yeah. It’s that simple, isn’t it?

We were in pain. Maybe it was physical. Or maybe it was spiritual. Maybe a drug was the chemical Bacitracin to some psychological scar. Whatever it might be, the problem remains: too many of us don’t identify the innumerable permutations of pain early enough – much less talk about or work them out so that they can become powerless over us. The result? The reverse happens. We can’t sort them out – so they come to control us. The reasons for that are many. Maybe we don’t have an appropriate outlet in which to do that. Maybe we aren’t given the opportunity. Or we don’t feel safe opening up. Thus, it festers – well into adulthood. We feel any number of manifestations of it, that bubble up from upset sentiments. And, because we don’t get to vent – however briefly – as a catharsis, they build until an outburst erupts. Maybe that outburst is a fit of rage. (Anyone else have to replace the pitched kitchen dishware as quickly as you purchase it? No? Just Hulk-mode me?) Maybe it’s binge eating. Maybe it’s drinking or taking drugs. For an active addict, adhering to even the most benign of these things is a dangerous answer. It’s cyclic and it makes using inevitable. And, the same holds true for those of us already recovering. We may have distance from active addiction, but ignoring our pain leads us further and further away from the life renovation we’re working daily to achieve.

The good news?

There’re heaps of ways to counter this descending spiral. For some’ve us, it’s meeting with a counselor. For others, it’s talking to a sponsor. For some, it’s doing a 12 step meeting and leaving right after the serenity prayer. And, TBH, I’ve tried a li’l bit of each. But, for me, I’ve come to find a simple but life saving tool to be fantastic – especially when there’s no one to turn to. In the wee hours when there’s no one but me to hear it – sometimes this trick’s my vice averting savior.

And all it is, is this practice called “labeling”.

Okay, maybe not necessarily with a pencil.

Rather, whenever a negative sentiment arises, all we’ve gotta do is simply say what we’re feeling – out loud. (Yes, it sounds cheesy, but bear with me here.) See, from “I have a mood obliterating headache” to “I’m admittedly a bit butthurt over that internet comment”, this is a completely underrated way of stopping our harmful feelings in their tracks. So, why’s this work? Because we have no idea what an inimical trigger (and the subsequent, attempted denial of its existence) can do to us. Most of us don’t, anyway. We try to convince ourselves it’s not a big deal. By doing this instead, however, it creates space between us and our gut reactions to stuff. In other words, it’s a reminder that we’re not the feeling we feel. So we don’t have to act on it negatively. We don’t have to give into the behavior we usually would at the first indication of an unfavorable stimulus. And, while it’s indeed helpful to do alone, it’s even better if we’re part of an addiction recovery group – or simply seeking help one-on-one from a professional mender of minds. Sharing authentic emotions out loud to someone – feeling understood by someone who can relate – not only helps us feel heard, but it also aids in us potentially finding the right way to handle the problem, without pouring a layer of chemical concrete over it.

In sum, honoring our less than stellar feelings doesn’t mean we have to wallow in them. Much the contrary. It’s a way to pull them over in our cognitive cop car, ID them, give them a ticket for causing a ruckus, and send them on their way. And it’s best to do that early as possible. Because that’s when they’re still as simple, yet less general than Russell’s “pain” explanation. That way we can catch these small fires and put ‘em out – before they can morph into behemoth juggernauts, begging for malevolent palliatives that only drive us deeper into this insidious disease.

And, with that, my friend, I ask:

Have you named your pain today?

Go on. List it below, if you like. And let your community come to your aid.

Use this 3 step method to hack your bad habit now

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What’s the hardest part of breaking a bad habit?

Is it initiating the break? Knowing what to replace it with?

How about recognizing that you’re even about to do the habit?


“To crap on the carpet… or to not crap on the carpet…”

As someone with a master’s degree in addictive tendencies, I tend to think it’s a good combo of all three. Well, that and the fact that our brains are hardwired to resist routine-tweaking. On an evolutionary level, change can be dangerous. So the habits on which we’ve gotten by seem the safer bet. (Even if said habits aren’t exactly healthy for us.) In that way, our minds act like the mom who’s afraid of letting us play or ride our bikes past the driveway, where white panel vans might roam. So, we – many of us – tend to stay in the driveway and yards of our own minds and lives once we build them, never venturing into the change straightaways. The problem? Sometimes we put fertilizer in our front yard gardens that doesn’t serve us. The result? Bad habit plants spring up, blooming life ruining fruit. Sometimes it’s chemical. Sometimes it’s not. But the question only we can answer is: is it detrimental to my life? My spirit? My productivity? Relationships? Brain?

For me, of late, that answer’s yes.

Why?

Because my bad habit plants’ve grown from an inundation of internet seeds.

Sure, it could be worse. I could be numbing my head and nether regions with lewd media. I could rationalize that. I could say – it’s just social media. But, here’s the thing. Experts on the topic tend to agree: when novelty’s at your fingertips, addiction doesn’t sit far beyond that. Your brain’s addiction loop gets stuck on the anticipation/reward cycle that accompanies scrolling down an IG or Facebook feed. Sifting out entertainment diamonds that’re truly cubic zirconia – educing fleeting laughter, only to be forgotten as your mind demands the next ephemeral thrill. And the result? If I’m being totally objective, this alternate reality changes me. It makes me impatient. (Why not, when I’m accustomed to having what I want a tap away at all times?) It makes me lazy and uncreative. (What else would I expect when I’m passively enjoying the works of others, versus making my own?) It’s a time sink. (Think I’m lying? Tell me how long five minutes of squats versus Snapchat or Facebook feels?) And, next, is the disconnection. Often, there’s a schism between the digital manifestation of others and how they are in real time. Likewise, there’s a similar schism between how we view them, how they really are, and our concern of whether they feel the same way about us. (Have that friend who always lauds your awesomery and talks about meeting up with you online? But never actually does?) Then, finally, do you ever notice how much easier it is to be cold, standoffish, or unempathetic when you’re interacting with the digital (or text message) version of someone?


(I like zero point zero of these effects this habit has on me…)

Now for the irony.

While this all collectively makes me feel more disconnected, upset, uninspired, and unproductive, do you wanna know what I turn to the moment those bad feelings come? More of the same. I’m back in my addicted habit backyard, diddling my dome with bits of information I don’t need, in hopes that something will appease the very demons it’s created. And that’s the point when I ask myself, “Alright, then. So, what’s the answer – now that I’ve confirmed I can’t turn to the internet every time I’m feeling down?”

Well, the first step’s the prep work.

1. REPLACEMENT ACTIVITIES

What would you be willing to replace it with? (Keeping in mind that “It” might not be social media for you. “It” might be anything from the darker areas of the internet, to the new Duck Donuts the cruel cosmos inimically implanted not a block away from your abode.) It can be simple. Making a cup of tea. Doing twenty squats. Leashing up your pup and wandering to the park. (That last one tends to be a favorite of mine; Einstein always adhered to leaving the scene of his problem entirely for a walk, as it helped him gain clarity and a new perspective.)

Then, once you’ve got that?

2. “HALT” FOR TRIGGER IDENTIFICATION

Next’s the recognition phase. That slanted moment – from feeling an unfavorable feeling to plummeting off the precipice – is a slippery one. So, the sooner you can recognize the fuel that makes braking seem less favorable than mashing the accelerator, the better. What are you feeling? Some of the best addiction professionals’ve come up with an epic acronym for this called H.A.L.T.. Are you Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? It’s said that these are the states at which we’re at our worst. (Though, as someone dealing with chronic pain, I’d add “Hurting” to that first “H”; ’cause I’m a shrew when consumed by pain.) Whatever feeling you wanna implant or add in that acro, the takeaway remains the same: we’ve got the least amount of willpower when we’re in a weakened state. So, identify that, and it’s half the battle.

The other half of that battle?

3. FIVE SECOND RULE

Actually doing something about it. And this is where the malevolent enemy of change, mentioned above, steps in. The one that wants us to stay, playing in the dark yard of our consciousness – comfortable in the chaos. Behavior and addiction specialists suggest that, when we give our brains too much room to mull over a good course of action – we’re less likely to do it. Our chances of talking ourselves out’ve a superior move, puts us into body pause. Freezes us in fear. We have outstanding plans for habit change, but that doesn’t matter. The rational sections of our psyche could perform a whole Powerpoint presentation with charts and graphs about the imminent 100% success rate of making the change. Yet, we resist, many of us. Why? Because of that aforementioned, evolutionary construct programmed within us to resist the unknown – no matter how good an idea it seems.

And that’s where the five second rule comes in. Your countdown to actual action.

However simple it sounds – it’s even simpler. All you do, is your HALT method (figure out what you’re feeling). Then, you opt not to act on your habit (because you know it’s just a palliative band-aid for your weak state). Next, you remember what your replacement ritual’s gonna be. (Squats? Go for a stroll with Rover? Hit up the dojo where you can legitimately hit things and get exercise in?) And, then, finally, you perform a five second countdown. What the five second countdown does, is give you deadline whereafter you have to act. It’s like a chemical reaction. Instead of an abstract concept, your new habit’s like an end product on the other side of your thinking-about-it reactants. And the countdown’s a catalyst. A mentally energetic enzyme that courses from your cognition to your body, demanding you to move into the next phase the moment the 5 seconds ends. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… and GO.

So, next time that nasty habit grabs you by scruff, strike back with a bit’ve H.A.L.T.

Then, follow with a 5 second countdown blastoff out’ve your habit backyard.

And then? Then you enjoy your journey out into those growth roads.

(If you look closely, that bird’s making a special excremental delivery right over Old Habit Blvd…)

Is Theanine the thing to replace your drug’ve choice?

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Looking to shelve the benzos on which you’re dependent?

But need a slight segue into the serenity of clean living?

Well, perhaps the natural remedy called L-theanine might just help get you there.

An extract from the healthy green tea we all known and love (my own go-to alternative to java), this stuff’s proven fruitful for abating anxiety and bringing on sleep, sans any notable side effects. In fact, per a study done in Japan, it was nearly 100% effective in de-stressing insomniac test subjects enough to allow them to fall asleep and to have a better, calmer day after taking it upon waking.

But, if you’ve read my work, my research never ends with published studies.

I want some IRL, outta-the-lab testimonials.

That’s why I always mosey on over to Amazon to take a gander at customer commentary.

The results?

It’s mostly five stars from buyers. Especially for post-pharmaceutical addicts looking for holistic means to stay clean. But the reasons actually extend beyond that: those with chronic anxiety take it – along with those on a quest for a better rest or simply clearer cognition at work. (Sidenote: if you’re wondering about the specific brand they’re ranting about, you can click that image for actual product site. And, no, I don’t get compensation for linking you there. But even if I did, they’d likely quit paying me after I told you this):

As ever, there’s a caveat. While it may be over the counter and not one’ve those scheduled substances that you have to get from your pharmacy, the potential for dependency remains – just as with any substance that increases dopamine. (Even one customer review conceded this, despite the five star award they’d offered for the product). And that means, that just like anything that alters your feel-good hormone levels, this grin inducing pill should serve as no more than either crutch for your recovering mental turmoil as you exit the hell of heavy drug dependency, or an occasional panic attack smasher. Especially since they’ve not yet done enough research on the long term effects of the stuff.

And how frequently should you take it?

Well, according to WebMD, once or twice a week for about three weeks is what’s suggested under the “possibly safe” tab. Of course, the product manufacturers will inform you that a far higher dose is required. (Duh, because they want you to run out and buy more as soon as possible). It seems that on average, though, once or even twice in one day (in 200 mg amounts) is what’s deemed okay, so long as you don’t take it with cholesterol lowering medication. But (as hinted above), the truth of the matter is that not enough research has been done regarding the long-term safety of high doses. And for that reason, your best bet’s probably to err on the side of safety, keep those doses to a minimum once a day, don’t take it every day, and then take a holiday of at least a few weeks between uses. Not only will that allow your system to clear it, but it will also lower your tolerance enough for you to feel the effects the next time you’re in an emotional crunch, have a burning desire, and believe you need it in order to eschew the notion of using.

As for me?

I actually gave this thing a try last night. (For the sake of journalism.) And, to be honest, while it admittedly did click me down a couple notches, it was probably a dumb experiment. Why? Because, yesterday was one of those days I was doing just fine. (So all it did was just make me a bit tired.) And, while I might retry my self-research another day when I’m in Eeyore mode, I dunno that I can promise that. Because these days, I have so many other tools to work with. I found them early on into my recovery because I had to; back when I was getting off benzos, I endured the worst kind of nightmare in order to get clean. Dependency and protracted Valium withdrawal is little more than hell’s fetid cellar. And, once my cognition was finally clear of schizophrenia-esque thoughts, hallucinations, and all the other horrible side effects that come with nixing pills like benzos, I vowed: “never again”. No matter how desperate. That shiz wasn’t worth it.


(I’d rather peel my skin off like a banana and roll my exposed tissue in Pink Himalayan salt than go through that again.)

So, what’d I replace all of that with?

By controlling my emotions via surrender to stuff like meditation and yoga. (Doesn’t hafta be yoga; though the nature of an “inside” practice varies for everyone, the basic premise works for all.) I learned all those seemingly mystical secrets on how to summon my own serenity. And I got intoxicated on something new: the capacity to manifest my own tranquility, at will. Thing is, I’m human. And sometimes I’m just too lazy to do these things I know will work. Sometimes I get in so much of a tizzy that I’m not willing to sit in silence silence the demons. Even so, when I think about losing control and letting some sort of supplement puppet my mind and body, something about it bothers me. So, I can safely say that while I might try it again in the distant future, my own bottle of the stuff will probably gather more dust than fingerprints. That said, I’m not against the idea of fellow addicts using this as a rowboat off get-high island. I’m not even condoning intermittent use. It might be fine. I’m just saying to be careful with it and don’t make the mistake of thinking that just because it doesn’t require the middleman of a prescription pad, that it’s necessarily safe to take on the daily in mass amounts.

Tried this stuff before?

Tell us about it in the comments below, if you like.

Can Break the Weight help you break your food addiction?

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If you think of a spoon in the context of addiction, the classic freebase image may come to mind.

But what about the freebake image?

The thing about addiction is that – for those who don’t have it – it’s easy to collectively throw it all in the drug bucket of your brain. However, for those actually afflicted with addiction, it’s well known that its innumerable manifestations comprise so much more than that. Binge watching a netflix Prison chick show. Excess schmexy time. And, of course: food. Anyone ever binged all three in a night? Great. Me too. But, today, that latter one’ll be the one we’re spotlighting.

So, what do you do for that – for the food addiction?

Well, while addictions do all fester from the same place, a lot of rehab programs will focus on whatever was your drug o’ choice. Just to keep things simple and effective. For example: much like they’ve got Gamers Anonymous and Sex Addicts Anon, they’ve also got Overeaters Anon. And, while I do feel like more people’d be willing to join if it were called “food addicts anonymous” (instead of something that’s essentially making it sound like a gluttonous hobby), that program has helped many get the el-bees down in a healthy way. Still, the step programs aren’t for everyone. What is, however, is the basic layout that any rehab program worth its weight (ahhh? See what I did there?) follows in order to be both effective and enduring. Which means – at the very least – getting to the root of the problem that’s making you wanna do the bad behavior (overeat) and also, supplanting the badness with a new ‘n improved routine (healthier eating and exercise choices). And what helps for many, is the dual yes-and of being held accountable and having a network. In other words – having someone to answer to, and having someone to answer you – when you’re in need and feeling weak.

That’s why I truly enjoyed this one transformation story about a girl called Claire:

After I read her story on overcoming feeling-eating, I half debated writing this article for a fitness site I write for instead. But, as I read more about Break The Weight (the program that ultimately helped her jettison that cellulite and inner turmoil alike – forty pounds in less than half a year), I realized this wasn’t just an “I let myself go” story. This was classic addiction, manifested with a legal but lethal outlet. Food. When we swallow down too much of it (in non-nutritional form) to appease an inner demon, we also swallow up our spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being. The vittles never fill the void. But they do make us sick.

So how’d it help?

Well, what Break The Weight did for Claire (as any good program should do), was aid her in pinpointing the “Why?” behind her abusive relache with food. It taught her mindfulness. (Like asking: Why am I eating this? How will it help sustain me? Where did it come from? Am I hungry or just anxious?) It offered her support. (Being able to connect for help in those “burning desire” moments – just like an AA or NA network would). It also taught her accountability. (Daily check ins with her trainer.) And, most importantly, the daily system – which was a synthesis of snack tracking, trekking for exercise, and setting goals. As with any addiction, that might be what’s most key. If you want to break an old, bad habit – you’ve gotta have a new one on deck and figure out why you were doing the bad thing in the first place. Otherwise, it’s a recipe for recidivism. Without a good replacement plan in place, old habits are heaps easier to revert to. Especially when that craving comes and you conveniently can’t remember why you should bother refraining. If a new routine’s ingrained, it’s a lot easier to remember you’ve another go-to option – to remember there is a better way. And for those still working on the mindfulness aspect, the trainer and the network are a brilliant reminder – both of your goals and the fact that you’re not alone on this path.

So, if you find yourself at the “early death from obesity” and “put the fork down” fork in the road, know that the latter option comes with a horde of support. There are a litany of fitness programs out there. In my humble opinion, I’d say try the free programs first. (Just ’cause I had success with some’ve the other ones. And because: free. Which means you can spend that money on a new wardrobe instead.)

And if that’s not for you?

Then mayhaps break bad habits and the weight loss wall alike with Break The Weight.

Is compassion the key to hacking your addict mindset?

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A lot of what spurred active addiction for me was disconnectedness.

I mean, if we’re being honest, it still spurs my bad sober behavior.

You know what I mean? The feeling that you’re oh so separate from everyone and they’re judging you? That they’re out to get you? That maybe even life is out to get you? It’s so easy to get to that place. (I’m there at at least one point, every day.) Once you get the scolding voice from your childhood following you around, serving as the somber soundtrack for every step you make, it’s tough to silence it. It’s tough to even remember that it’s there. We just come to convince ourselves that our dismal inner voice is us. That it is truth. (Versus the Frankensteinian monster it is – of opinion pieces someone else issued us when we were more impressionable.)

After a time, we come to expect that everyone – not just the people who said it in the first place, outta their own self-loathing – is thinking those negative things about us. Then again, some of us get that voice via horrible happenstance. Things we incurred long the way. Sure, there are innumerable ways to gain that same, malevolent inner voice. But – whatever it was – when you’re programmed to believe something, it’s an easy mentality to rest on. No matter how destructive it is.

The problem with getting comfortable with that mindset, though?

Well, once you enter the world, that person (the self-loathey unhappy one) is the person who interacts with others. And half the time you don’t even realize you’re acting cold. You’re just trying to survive these social interactions unscathed. But you know how that comes off to others? Cold and callous. See, they don’t know about your deep seated insecurities. Or that that’s why you’re kinda standoffish. They don’t know that you were emotionally victimized early on. That you survived an assault or war. They just see your hackles raised and respond in kind. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that when you seem either scary faced or scared, the natural reaction’s to feel scared, too. Your expression represents a threat. So peeps unconsciously reflect it back.

The problem is, when you don’t even realize the vibe you’re giving off, you just assume they’re being douchey to you. The truth? They’re actually mirroring your snarl. A lot like those above dogs. (It happens unwittingly a lot of the time, via these things called “mirror neurons”.) In fact, speaking of dogs, this happened to me the other day. I was in the midst of grieving my shih-tzu’s death. And, in an effort to go through the motions of living, I left home and did my daily routine. Now, even though I wasn’t crying, I had a social zone of inhibition around me like an antibiotic pellet plopped in bacterial agar. No one wanted near me. And, sure, part of me wanted to say “The whole world’s against me; why are these people such arseholes when I’m having such a bad week?” But another part of me realized something, too. (Granted, not til I caught my own reflection in the loo moments later and wondered why a disheveled, escaped war prisoner was staring me down.) People weren’t confirming my worst fears about life and humanity being after me. They weren’t mean mugging me. They were mirroring me and my crazed, dazed, and distant countenance. And that led to yet another epiphany.

This was me. This was me on my worst day. I – who’ve become generally jovial once around strangers – now look like the bad guy. I look like the douchebag who just barks out his coffee orders without making eye contact with the cashier. I look like the self centered snob with a bad case of RBF. And, to my mom, I looked like the kinda arsehole who yells at the woman who gave her life because her dog’s is over. We never like to remember these moments. We want to forget them. Bury them away. They’re not representative of our “best selves”.

But, you know what?

These things are crucial to cling to.

Why? Because the next time you’re getting yelled at or patronized or dehumanized in some form, the tendency’s gonna be to say, “What an arsehole.” Which is fine. He or she’s being one. But he wasn’t born one. That’s not who he is every day. He has a whole life. There’s just a thorn at the center of it ATM that’s making him take it out on you. And, haven’t you done that before? When you lost someone you loved? When you beefed it out with your boss and got fired? Haven’t I? When my dog died? When the school of my dreams I worked so hard to get into rejected me?

“Wasn’t that me?”

It looks so different on the outside, doesn’t it? When someone else is wearing it?

It sho’ nuff does. But it’s been all of us at some point. And the idea’s not to run away from these facets of ourselves – or other people when they’re displaying them. It’s to lean into both’ve them. That said, I’m not saying that the key’s to tell Hulkasaurus Rex, “I know how you feel.” (That’d piss me off. It does every time, in fact. All it tells me is that A.) you’re a know it all and B.) you think you know me.)

No. It’s not to tell anyone anything. It’s to ask.

Ask the question:

“Are you okay, man?”

The trick is, you have to mean it. How? By relating. First, internally. (Which is a lot easier to do when I remember those touchtone phone robots that put me on eternal hold and misinterpret everything I say and piss me off just thinking about them.) And then, externally, by asking the person what’s going on. (Without going into your own sob story.) And that’s the difference between some feigned, saccharine pity party and genuine compassion. With the former, you’re trying to get something out of it. You want them to either stop being a douche or maybe you want to feel superior or make them like you. With compassion, contrarily, you’re trying to connect by relating.

Quick protip aside… Make sure it’s more like this:

And less like this:

And why the eff should you want to connect with D-bag McGee?

Good question. Here’s the answer: Because D-bag McGee’s not always warranting that moniker. He’s not that way all the time. He’s still human, born from the same star sharts as you and I were. He’s got pain. Somewhere in his brain or body, that dude’s straight up suffering. Just like you do sometimes. And if that feeling of disconnectedness from humanity – of loneliness – is a top contributing factor in active addiction or any of the bad habits that make any of us cling to unhappiness, then guess what? Connecting’s an optimal way to help quell it. We must just remember. By remembering that we too have our douchey moments, we can recall that that broody mood we see on someone else is just a mask. And we can ask a compassionate question that just might get the connective convo ball rolling.

Anecdotal case in point to end this already too-long article?

I do this all day long in my P.T. clinic with pissed off people in pain.


(Put me on that recumbent bike again and *you’ll* need therapy!)

Granted, I get paid for it – but I do it all day.

And I always thought they obviously left looking mentally better than when they walked in because, duh, were a place of healing. They’re working on healing injuries and stuff. But the more I work there, the more I realize that’s not so. People without any painful injuries come in there too. They’ve got Parkinson’s or balance issues or whatever. No pain. But they’re still pissed off. Because dysfunction sucks. And you know what? Even they leave beaming. Why? I didn’t know for a while. All I knew is that I went home at night happy. I was tired, but happy – because they were, and I played a part in that transformation. Despite my fatigue after a 9 hour day of work, I don’t want to use. I don’t feel like giving into abusive bad-habit behavior, either. I feel fulfilled because I make grumpy people happy all day – that hadn’t been when they hobbled in. Then, one day, it hit me. I get why these people egress P.T. with grins. It’s because that clinic’s probably the only place where they have someone genuinely look them in the eye all day and ask in a non-perfunctory fashion, “Are you okay today, Bob?”

Imagine if we did that with every douchey mood we encountered.

Maybe we could all go home happy, clean, and serene – instead’ve disconnected.

Comedy: the healthy high while grieving

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No matter how solid my recovery is, shiz is gonna test it.

Like, for instance, this week when I lost my shih-tzu.

(Not literally, but because: old).

And what’s a recovering addict’s answer to that? How do I stay both sober and sane? What do I do to not slowly slide back down the spiral like a smack addled toddler descending a chemical playground slide? Well, as illustrated in an earlier article, there are the serious things. I can recall the good times. I can help out others in my life. I can cry when I need to. Write, like I am now, to let it out creatively. Make sure to take care of my brain and body (yoga, running, and nature). And I can let others be a supportive shoulder. (Instead’ve isolating, as I tend to do). But you know what? It’s… exhausting. Don’t get me wrong. I feel far more accomplished by the day’s end than if I’d languished in bed, hugging the last toy my dog slept on. But, still.

There’s no joy in any of the things I used to do.


(Like running.
Not, ya know, sitting dejectedly under a tree while ticks rain on my cranium.
Which is what I end up doing most’ve the time now.)

Why?

Is it subconsciously intentional? Is my brain telling me not to enjoy anything or else I’m mourning poorly? Could’ve fooled me with my attempts to engage the barista at the coffee shop I don’t wanna be at. Could’ve fooled me, as I put on workout music in an in-vain effort to pump myself up for a run I’m reluctant to do. Could’ve fooled me as I sit to write when I feel anything but creative. I’m legit trying here. So, what’s missing?

I got my answer when I allowed myself to finally do something today.

Laugh.

Yes, joy – however fleeting – is what’s been missing this week. And this is why, I think, a lot of addicts end up returning to using. Here, we’ve worked so hard to make yoga or mediation or exercise or whatever pleasure provide us with safe, intrinsic endorphins. We’ve worked so hard to supplant our synthetic, former highs with more organic ones. But what happens when the joy’s suddenly sucked out of them by the grief demon? Where can we find it?

Today, as I sat in my car after a run I’d been putting off all day, I found it here:

And, of course, here:

And especially here:


(You’ll hafta click that one to enjoy.)

I say “especially” on that last one because I haven’t been “treating” myself to comic calories this week. At all. And what I love especially about Chris C. and the F-bomb riddled guided meditations alike, is that they typically both have a message that resonates… but without being too serious about it. That same theme’s actually what brought me to recovery. Russell Brand’s capacity to laugh at the madness of a serious thing like addiction made it easier for me to address it head on. The nice thing about life-applicable laugh-snacks like these (versus sitcom comedy) is that I don’t feel like I’m escaping my sad feelings when I enjoy them. It’s relatable. Yet it’s also funny. So, when the chuckles subside, I don’t feel that disconnected emptiness of reality closing in.

You know, it’s tough to take advice from anyone when you’re grieving.

They mean well, but what I wish they knew is this:

Even just functioning – what’s generally second nature – now becomes a list of tasks. You have to actively make yourself do the stupidly smallest of things – like brushing your teeth or taking a shower – all against the resistance of the emotional mud you’re trudging through. Those have suddenly become daunting things on the to-do list that formerly featured more important things like paying bills or running errands. And, as said above, they’re exhausting.

So, hearing another “what you need to do” just takes one from bereavement to belligerent.

Now, that high pixelated poem-graphic (sorry bout it) sounds kinda dickish. I concede that. Especially when your friends are just trying their best to feign compassion for five minutes so they can get back to their life’s good vibe (whose buzz your bad mood’s harshing) without feeling guilty for ignoring your pain. But it’s true. That said, I realize I can’t change how other people comfort me. I should just be glad they’re trying. They’re not mind readers. Much like compliments, I should accept condolences for their intention – not the specific nature of them.

Which is why I kept the eyerolling solely internal those first fifty times I heard “Remember the good times – Minnie wouldn’t want you to be sad!” I know people were trying to help. But I’d be lying if I said my first thought wasn’t, “Um… She’s a dog. My dog. You dunno that bish. You ain’t know the eff she wants” But then, last night, after the eleventyhundredth time hearing it, suddenly my mind opened a little. (Probably because the person who was saying it to me seemed more genuine than 90% of the people who’d come before him.) And I realized something. I knew that bish. I knew her really, really well. We had a telepathic level connection. And while they didn’t know her, I know – from experience – that Minnie really wouldn’t want me to be to be sad, panicked, or Hulked out.

And I know why.

See, all of those emotions were the moods that used to directly precede using (which only amplified those moods) years ago. They meant Jekyll was about to go Hyde, so she’d go hide. The guilt of my angry yelling or neglect inasmuch as other dogs spent more time rump huffing furry strangers at the park than sat in an apartment, will always haunt me. Yeah, I had back problems. But so do a lot’ve folk. I could’ve done far, far better. And, even though I spent years spoiling her rotten to make it up to her long after addiction, she’d still scoot the moment my voice raised in anger. She’d still let out a heavy sigh and look up at me the second stress rose up in my chest. She knew when I was panicking – and would pant, pace, and get equally aggravated right along with me. Minnie’d match my moods. Always. In fact, sometimes she’d do me better than me.


(Not Minnie.
But an epic reminder of what a perfect reflection her moods always were of my own.)

Even after I’d been clean for years, she wouldn’t come to cuddle next to me unless I was calm or happy. So, when I felt that silly twinge of guilt today – giggling at a simultaneously ridiculous and brilliant video – I paused. And I remembered how her little tail wagged like a breeze blown palm made of glee filled silk when I myself was happy.

And I kept on laughing.

This doesn’t mean the end of tears. I’ll still cry. Get angry. Probably throw some fine china at the kitchen wall again. Yes, I’ll still take time. But what I won’t do is feel bad about indulging those fleeting moments of fun when they come to me like my former fur baby bringing me a bone to throw. Because I – any of us addicts – need that to keep going and remain sober and functional. We require our days to be punctuated with some sense of spiritual well being. Something to take the edge off the existential gravity of reality. Some sort’ve natural Valium to keep us from considering letting the chemical enemy back into our lives. Today, I found that in these silly videos. Tomorrow, it might be playful banter with my barista.


(Or a dad-joke level too-soon dumb pun someone says.)

The point? It could be anything. And all I know’s I’m gonna try to be open to it.

Not just because it’s what Minnie’d want.

But because this pain’s got me entertaining things I never said I would again.

And I owe it to my loyal, forgiving companion to never revert.

Are you judging others’ recovery? Why?

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Only recently have I begun discussing addiction on online message boards.

And, not to be judgmental, but… everyone judges.

Hardcore.


“Your recovery’s a bit pitchy for me. Keep coming back, dawg.”
“Um…I like that you’re trying! Pick up a white keytag on your way out!”
“Not in a step program? Dreadful. It’s a no for me. NEXT.”

But, of all the stuff they judge, judging others’ recovery – might just take the sober-anniversary cake. Especially when it comes to AA or the other step programs. I’m not sure why, but people love to hate on the program. It’s free. It helps people. And for those it doesn’t, you can leave and find another way. After saying (repeatedly) that I dug some of the step program stuff, but not all of it, I was immediately attacked. And, almost never, it seemed like people could never give me either A.) their personal story about failure with AA or B.) what has worked for them. All I hear is this fabricated stat about “zero percent efficacy”.


(Seriously. At least make up a fail or success recovery story if you’re gonna lie.)

And – don’t get me wrong – the born again AA vultures on there started nipping at my comment carcass too. “Why you be cherry pickin’? It works if you work it!” And you know what? Everyone’s right. If it was a giant fail for the anti-anonymouser attacking me, then – yep – it doesn’t work. For him. And, if working the steps exactly worked for homegirl with an anime avatar (who was at a worrying level of worried about some stranger’s recovery), then it does work. For her.

Confused?

Don’t be. It’s simple. Addicts, while we have heaps in common, handle recovery differently. And that loaded term – “recovery” – is something whose success relies on your definition of it. Is staying clean crucial and does that come before everything else? Yes. But is that all there is to it? No. And that’s where you might differ with a given program. For me, personally, I’m not indefinitely disallowing myself contact with people, places, and things of my past. For the most part? Yes. That’s an optimal idea. But what I am also doing, is getting honest with myself. I go to those AA or NA rooms (because: free) to hear some free ideas that might resonate with me. But, instead of relying on that external voice solely to dictate my recovery, I supplement it with some meditation. Just to see how it settles. Because, once you let the noise of others’ advice and your own inner thought reel subside, something happens.

You hear the truth.

You glean what you need.

Example? Per my former sponsor’s suggestion, I shouldn’t’ve gone to a family gathering that had alcohol. Per my meditation session, however, I came to realize I could have the best of both worlds. It didn’t need to be a me-centric issue. All I had to do was tell my family my concerns, let them know I was amped to see them all, but also warned that if I needed to leave, it’s just ’cause the drinking was wearing on my “feelz”.


(Or, ya know, witnessing the typical emo-allergic runs-in-the-family reaction to too much wine, for that matter…)

All joking aside, that gave me a chance to do two things. First, it let me reinforce the importance of my recovery to both myself and them by saying it out loud. Second, it also gave me a chance to clear the air for both of us and be honest – instead of trying to pretend I was “fine” around wine the whole time.

Being humble enough to accept where you’re at’s a biggie in recovery.

Trying to explain this to either extreme, however, is tantamount to brick wall banter. And I’m just now becoming more understanding as to why. People want something black and white they can follow every day. They want it laid out for them by others. They don’t want to make the effort of letting go of thought and simmering in their inner wisdom for a while. Why? Because there are demons to be dealt with down there, too, sometimes. But those poor bastards don’t know what they’re missing, though. Because, if they did – if they just met those demons head on – they’d also understand that what they need may vary from day to day. Change is the nature of reality. And for me, that means that relying on a static system that never makes concessions (except with using, obviously) could make my success in recovery difficult.


(But, again, if it works for you – I’m not knocking it.)

And, deep down, I think people who pretend a system’s working when it isn’t know that’s true. And they hate accepting that fact. (Cognitive dissonance, I think they call that.) So, what do they do? They yell at you. They yell whether they like the program or loathe it. Why? Because people are desperate not only to have their values be accepted – but to push their value system on others – if and when they don’t have full faith in what they’re doing.

That’s just a telltale sign of their own failure. When something’s not enough for you – just you, you start trying to impose it. Because if you can make someone else believe it, then maybe – just maybe – that makes your belief more true to you. And that goes for whether you’re pro or con’ing a program. All I know is that people who believe something deeply, don’t need to get defensive on its behalf. And those who’ve found success another way? Well, they would be talking about their success with that – not focusing on how much they hate another program they didn’t like. Those whose faith is ultimate, don’t need to convince anyone because we’re convinced. And that’s sufficient. That’s where that meditation thing came in so handy for me. I know that when I sit in silence and sift out the bullshiz, calm will come. Sometimes immediate answers do, too. But even if they don’t, I’m relieved of that stressed state from which I typically end up making addict-brained decisions.


(Protip, you don’t need an ashram, special garb, oceanfront, or yoga mat to do it, either.)

It’s a bummer that something like AA doesn’t work for many. (Wouldn’t a blanket solution be great?) But, again, it’s awesome for the innumerable others it does help. If I’m being honest, I’ve seen both sides’ve the sober coin sitting in the rooms. So, so long as you’re focused on getting or staying clean and recovering – don’t beat yourself up for giving something an open-minded chance (I stuck it out 90 days) and still voting no on the program. You don’t have to let the pushy opinions of others affect yours. They’re just people. And if they’re imposing something on you (especially in AA or NA), then they’re failing at their own program by missing one of the main themes: attraction, not promotion. There are other options, my friend. Actively seek them out if you’ve got doubts after 90 days. The only thing I will say is this: I just wish people in any program were first and foremost taught the self – and situational – awarenes to think outside the box when what they’re doing isn’t working. And to ask themselves, “What can I change? What else do I need to do? Just because AA doesn’t feel like the right fit for me – does that mean nothing will?” And then seek out an appropriate alternative – versus returning to the chemical problem as a solution.

In sum?

I encourage meditation paired with giving a recovery program a solid try for 90 days.

And then? Regroup, see how it’s working for you, adjust as needed, and keep moving.

Best of luck, my aspiring reformed fiends.