connection

So, you’re wondering if you can ever successfully use again.

Think you can moderate? That it’ll be better this time?

Who knows. Maybe you’re right.

But before you decide, do yourself a favor and watch watch this talk:

If it looks familiar, that’s probably ’cause I just referenced this in my last article. But while it namely addresses dealing with the issue of addiction itself, there’s another level to it. A question that only a fellow addict might think to ask. The original talk mentions disconnectedness driving discontent – and thus addictive behavior. This makes a good deal of sense. Because (if you didn’t watch the vid as I instructed in which case shame on you) the rat experiment (which essentially resolved the rodents’ addictions by offering them utopian cages) illustrated an important point: we need in-the-flesh connection, purpose, and stimulating brain food to feel fulfilled – to not become addicted. Otherwise, we get stuck in any number of different addictions – from smart phones to smack. However, after watching, I had that nagging “something’s missing” feeling.

And I think that, in part, was a question:

If get my cage all in order, why can’t I successfully use again? In moderation?

Won’t my new connections be enough to override my proclivity to overuse?

What would truly interest me is another sequel study. One where those rats in isolation – who’d gotten good and hooked on heroin – were suddenly removed, and abruptly introduced into Rat Park. My inquiry would be this: how long would it take for them to wean themselves off the spiked hydration? Would they at all? Was it contingent on how long they’d spent addicted?

I ask this from the perspective of a recovering addict.

Because I myself understand that, personally, picking up a drug or drink is tantamount to playing Russian Roulette with a slow-motion bullet. One that gradually unravels your life until you finally die, wish you would, or make everyone around you wish they would. Some people can use recreationally, occasionally. Some people, like me, most likely cannot. Could I use successfully again? Maybe. But the stakes are too high to risk that unknown. Especially when you recognize the neuroscience behind it. You see, there are at least two bullets in my pick-up gun and they’ve both got science on their side. The first has to do with cravings. Studies have shown that when you feel a craving (whether it’s for that overpriced bakery down the street or what the dealer standing on the corner outside’a it’s got), something malevolent unravels in your mind. You go kinda dumb. The other, logical processing centers of your noggin shut off. You’re focused on only the object of your desire until it (eventually) subsides. This takes longer for addicts because we spent so long getting what we wanted. I took a good long time to lose my cravings – to reinvite them into my life by testing the waters blessed by Pinot Noir Jesus makes no sense. A sip’s not worth the likely drowning that’ll ensue.

(Yes, this non-logic seems brilliant when in the midst of a craving.)

The yes-and to that is this: even if I can make myself moderate – these returned cravings that serve as off-buttons to my logic and reason will mean devastation to other areas of my life. Think about all the stuff you need reasoning for: relationships, work, not chasing down the guy who cut me off yesterday and lighting his house on fire. I suppose this is what all of those old-timers in meetings mean when they talk about “successfully using”. Maybe I can moderate. Maybe I can use. But not without it culminating in mistakes at work, failed relationships, and a traffic massacre.

Point two on the sciencey level is this: habits.

Habits form in your brain in a very specific way. And the bastard thing about it? That they’re never truly gone. They’re there – waiting in the wings for you to eff up your new, better life. For me, the past-life hell-dwelling habit is too familiar, too ingrained, and too easy to return to. In that, I’m not alone – and I don’t just mean other addicts, either. In fact (in keeping with the rat theme), another fantastic rat study spotlighted this beautifully.What they did was go into the creatures’ brains using photon wizardry (AKA optogenetics), and turned off new, normal habits which formerly reprobate rats had acquired through practice. Wanna know what happened? Every damned time, these recidivist rodents went right back to their old ways.

That, then, begs the question: what dissolves a new ‘n improved habit?

I mean, you ‘n me don’t have Harry Potter in a lab coat waving a light wand over our basal ganglia (ganglii? gangliases? gangbanglasses?) So, what exactly is it that might threaten our new way of being – so that we know how to be on the defensive when we see it coming? In my experience, I notice that one time it happens is when any element of that rat park (connection, cerebral snacks, purpose, or do-gooding) get eliminated for more than a few days at a time. A subtraction of something good. The other? An addition of something bad. For me, that includes stuff like mindless T.V.. Channel surfing. Gossip. Excessive online browsing. And… finally… anything that alters the chemicals in my brain to the point where I feel like I’ve clicked over to a faux filter. Case in point – this anti-itch prescription pill I was given for a rash not long ago. They claimed it was non-habit forming. But it was infatuation at first feel for me as I sat on the couch for hours doing what could’ve been an audition for that one pot commercial.

I suppose, until they do my proposed rat experiment of combining junkie rats with well ones, this all’s as good of proof as any. Well, for me at least. Because I do feel that how long you spend in active addiction (versus how well and long you build up your rat park) determines how well you’re going to overcome your prior life. The thing is, with us humans, we have to be really careful with assuming we can moderate or that we’re “all better”. Some of us might be. And that’s fine. But as higher-consciousness creatures, we’re very adept at finding new addictions to avoid connection we perceive as being potentially threatening. The rats just had a vat of smack. For us, there’s social media, text messaging, emails, Youtube, Netflix, and Netflix ‘n chill for that matter. (And, no, the latter doesn’t count as connection if your brain’s miles away from your partner during the act.) Some of us have successfully built a whole cage out of our own, technical heroin water. We’ve built a rat hell – which deceivingly looks like a park in all its allure and avatar pals. It’s not. In that way, most of us can identify with stigmatized addicts. Because most of us are, in some sense. With the help of introspection and connection with our fellow “rats”, we can pull ourselves out of our respective mouse infernos.

How? By taking some quiet time to reflect on what we want. We quiet need time away from the glistening damnation in which we’ve ensconced ourselves. And why the fluff is that important? ‘cause – part of the curse of being higher-consciousness beings – we aren’t animals waiting on bipolar lab-coated sadists to build our rat parks (while our isolated, involuntary dope fiend neighbors go through the sweats and shakes). No one’s gonna do it for you. You’ll hear a lot of implied lies in the form of commercials and entertainment. But no answers. And – so long as we’re distracted by our phones and T.V.’s – something else, something external, is always gonna be dictating to you what you want. (Protip: It’s not what you want. Not if didn’t want it till someone suggested you weren’t good enough without it.) Some refer to the solution as meditation, but there are plenty’a ways to achieve this state. It doesn’t matter. It could happen during a thoughtful jog. While you’re fishing. As you pluck your nose hairs. Nobody cares. The point is that you block out the BS, find out what matters most to you, and then sow the seeds from there by taking right actions. Every damned day.

A recovering addict’s rat park is kinda like a tree.

The branches bear the fruit of all our connections, passions, and positive stimulation.

But they only flourish if we tend to the roots.

And avoid toxic exposure – however much we may miss it.