Addictions and my Experience with Computer Games

I have long struggled with a tendency to get easily addicted to computer games. To the point where I'd spend days just sitting at the computer and lose all sense of anything else I needed to do or any of my other hobbies, and have severe withdrawals any time I managed to actually wrench myself away for a few minutes. And it could happen with any kind of game really. It could even be something as simple as Tetris. The sad thing is, I'd begin by genuinely enjoying the game. Then I'd start to get bored with it, but be even more highly addicted. After a few days, I'd turn into an empty husk, gaining nothing from the game yet feeling even more worthless and depressed whenever I'd stop and inevitably reflect on the manner in which I'd spent my time. It's not a fun place to be.

I've experimented with various different methods of control over the years. For whatever reason, it's been a pretty complex issue for me. The simplest approach I've found for dealing with addiction is simply to quit cold turkey. For example, I did this with fast food beginning in the summer of 2010:

First, I looked at the cons of eating fast food, from the amount of money I spent on it to the health issues to the way it made my body feel. While most the time I felt fine, if I went a month without eating it then tried it again, my stomach would react almost violently to the grease. Next, I looked at the extent to which I relied on fast food as a crutch. I tended to go through a drive through several times a week and felt strong cravings on the days I didn't go. Various factors played into this, from the addictiveness of the food itself to the convenience and relative cheapness compared with eating at a restaurant, to the fact that my mom was also addicted to fast food and more than happy to suggest it and drive me there.

Finally, I considered what I would lose if I never ate fast food again for the rest of my life. Certainly I would miss the taste for a while, I thought, but there are plenty of other foods that taste good. I might miss out on some convenience, particularly if my friends really want to hang out at a fast food place, but this is unlikely and I could always plan ahead to eat something else and then hang out with them without eating there myself. Overall, I realized that if I never ate fast food again, I would truly not be missing out on anything essential or even important. So, I wrote out a list of fast food places I would never eat at again. Listing the specific places was important for me, as this way I couldn't rationalize my way out of my promise ("well, it doesn't exactly count as a fast food place...") I would also be clear on the places that I would allow myself to go to. If, at a later time, I deemed an additional place unhealthy and addictive for me, I could always add it to the "never list".


For many years I took a similar approach to computer games. While I hadn't strictly ruled them out, I simply avoided them altogether. Still, in many ways I missed the positive aspects and felt a sense of loss when I'd see others enjoying video games or computer games. Similarly, if I added all of my potential addictions to a "never list", I would very quickly wind up painting myself into a corner. At the very least, I deemed it worthwhile to try and see if I could find some other way to moderate my game usage.

One idea was to limit the amount of time I could play a game per day. In theory this was a simple, logical idea. In practice, it was extremely difficult for me to maintain. I would start out strict with myself, wrenching myself away from the screen painfully as the timer I set would go off. This never worked for more than two or three days, and even when it did I experienced intense withdrawal symptoms.

After a while I started to wonder if the problem had to do with playing games that were meant to be played for several hours at a time, drawing the player in. So I tried picking games that were simpler and could be paused easily at any point. I figured maybe I'd get bored with them easier. The results? I would indeed get bored with them sooner. The problem is, I would still get addicted incredibly quickly. And being addicted to a game I wasn't even interested in was even more irritating.

One day, after weeks of being hooked on a game I initially didn't think would hold any long term interest, I started to wonder if there were some underlying needs of mine getting indirectly fulfilled by playing various games. I thought that a need was probably getting met even by the more boring games, and the convenient and familiar method is what made it continue to be addictive even after the need was no longer getting met as efficiently. I began to analyse what the appeal of each game was (for example I enjoyed a game called Terraria because I could explore and find lots of different items that could be combined in interesting combinations to build new things, which reflected my values of curiosity and creativity). This understanding changed the way I played games, helping me get more out of them in less time by disregarding activities that weren't as fun wherever possible. Unfortunately, while I became more efficient in extracting value from my game play, I was still left with an addiction. Dropping games once I lost a sense of joy in playing them worked with a bit of attention and effort, but I would still be drawn to the next game.

Now while I obviously recognized the problem with excess and how depressed the resulting guilt and self loathing made me feel, I also felt pretty depressed and bad about myself when I denied myself all activities that weren't strictly productive; reducing life to "worthwhile" and "worthless" activities made everything feel flat, cynical and empty to me. In addition, even if I cut out computer games, there were an infinite number of known and unknown potential addictions waiting for me and I still had no reliable method of curbing them without rendering myself frozen by restrictions. And so, I continued to experiment on myself from time to time with the familiar medium.

One of my more recent experiences was getting addicted to a very, very simple puzzle game akin to Candy Crush for over a month. And I had planned on deleting it after a couple hours. Now, on the plus side, I had limited myself to fifteen minutes per day, an unusually low time limit, and I managed to stick to this limit for all but the last week I was addicted. The benefit of this small time limit combined with the simplicity of the game seemed to be that I didn't have time to get too deeply involved mentally, so it was easier to stop when the timer went off.

Unfortunately, the game also slowly evolved from being something I could easily recognize as a meaningless distraction to relax on occasion to a central part of my daily routine. Oddly, even with such a small amount of time, my sense of worth started to get attached to my increasing mastery of this silly little game while motivation in other areas of my life decreased noticeably. And, of course, the time limit eventually started slipping and I had to delete it.


This particular experience gave me a new idea: maybe part of the problem was that I had to fight my addiction on a daily basis instead of just every once in a while. Plus I would constantly feel like I hadn't played as long as I really wanted to. These two things would tend to reinforce any withdrawal symptoms. Worst of all, I had far too many chances to fail in keeping my word to myself, especially as the inevitable stresses of daily life began to set in. And once I had failed in my self moderation attempt, the depression would start to set in, making it easier to fail each consecutive time, to greater and greater degrees until I would finally hit a "rock bottom" point and ban myself from the game.

So, I thought, perhaps I could allow myself an entire day of shame free gaming. But only one predesignated day out of each month. This would give me a clearly defined limit, but one that was long enough to let me really get into the game and enjoy myself. I gave it a try and was amazed at the results; for the first time in over a decade, I spent all day playing a game (Nethack, something I greatly missed from my childhood), and I did not openly or secretly hate myself. Not even a little bit. Not even in the back of my head. Not even when it was time to stop and go to bed and I could clearly see that I had "accomplished" absolutely nothing that day. I would even go so far as to say that my self worth improved from the experience.

And was I tempted to play again the next day and just keep going and going indefinitely? Did I experience intense withdrawal symptoms? Yes. But I felt no need to act on these feelings. I simply looked forward to the next game day, clearly marked on my calendar. Why was this method so effective? I believe the primary reason is because it allowed me to feel good about myself. I gave myself permission to enjoy the day, embracing it wholeheartedly. I set clear limits. I didn't set myself up to fail with a situation where I'd be repeatedly tempted.

Most importantly, having experienced the joy and positivity resulting from that "shame-free" label, I became intrinsically motivated to maintain that highly valuable label at all costs. If I gave in after one day, or indeed any day before the next designated game day, I would destroy it. Gaming would be depressing for me again. And the joy would be far more difficult to get back than it was to destroy. While thoughts about the game continued to pop up randomly in my head for a few days, they gradually became less frequent and the painful urgency dissipated rapidly. What was left was a feeling of contentment, and a level of confidence in my abilities I was unaccustomed to.

While I still need to see what the long term results of this method will be, I am optimistic that I may have found a viable way to self moderate most potentially addicting interests and behaviours that may develop in the future.

Sleeping in the Cold

A few days ago, a visiting friend and I were walking home from a late night movie. It must have been past 1am. While walking along, we passed by a couple of people in an underpass. One was huddled on the ground, asleep, and the other was laying down a blanket, getting ready to settle down for the night. For some reason the sight affected me very strongly. Just from being outside for a few minutes I was quite cold, despite having a sweater. And here were people who slept out here.

I can remember countless times I've walked by homeless people during the day who asked for change. At various stage in my life, I've either been in the habit of giving change or not. Even when I was in the habit of doing so, however, I never really felt like it made a difference one way or the other. This was different. These people weren't asking for anything. They barely even seemed to register us passing by. They were just going about their daily lives. Just as I pull my blankets around me every night and fall asleep in my home, these people pull their blankets around them and fall asleep... outside, in the cold.

My friend and I stopped by the local grocery store to get some snacks, and on an impulse I found myself staring at the polar fleece blankets. They were designed to be holiday house warming gifts, just thin throws with pictures of penguins and whatnot on them. But it was all they had, and in the end I decided it would be better than nothing. When my friend realized I wasn't getting it for myself, she covered half the price. We made a detour on the way home, back to the underpass. Both people were asleep by then, so I just set the rolled up blanket next to them and left. Somehow it seemed better that way.

And I've been worrying about them ever since.

The Beauty of Flight

Earlier this week I sat in a plane, looking out the window as it took to the sky. I've always loved flying. This particular experience had a more surreal quality to it than usual. I watched the city below disappear to be replaced by farmland, then deltas; tendrils of clear water reaching out across the cracks in the land. Before long, I was looking down on the tops of cumulus clouds, the light from the sun coloring them from the sides, the subtle shadows making them appear soft and yet more substantial than they are in reality.

It was a sea of clouds like this, as far as the eye could see. The beauty of what I saw made my eyes start to water. It reminded me of those times I would look up at clouds from the ground and think of how they looked just like the Renaissance paintings of the heavens. Only, the shapes of the clouds from above looked different. I realized that the people who created such paintings had never seen the sky the way I was seeing it now. I realized that throughout history, there have been humans who have always dreamed of flight, that they could only have imagined an experience such as the one I was having now.

I thought about how it must have felt to be one of those first few people to go into space, to see their entire planet from far away. I thought of how most of us, if given such an opportunity, would be overcome with wonder. And yet today millions of people board airplanes, take to the sky, and go places our ancestors could not even come close to reaching. What is now common was once unimaginable.

That day I counted myself lucky. Had fate been different, I could have easily been a land-bound dreamer, staring up at the sky and wondering what was up there. Instead, with barely a thought at the start, I was flying. For the sake of all my ancestors with unfulfilled dreams of flight, I took in all I saw around me with the same wonder I would feel if I were drifting through the cosmos and amongst the stars.

Code Names

A conversation from a few weeks ago:

Me: “My female friends and I come up with code names for guys so we can talk about them without others knowing who we're referring to. Guys we're interested in, guys that are friends, guys we can't stand, guys we barely know... But never for other women. Why is that?”

My dad: “It's because men are an alien species.”

Me: “I KNEW IT!!!!”

Rubik's Cube

This weekend I came closer than ever before to solving a Rubik's cube. That's not saying a whole lot, considering all I was able to do previously was get a single side/row. But I figured out how to get two of the three rows. Now, I'm not sure that getting the first two rows first is the way to go about solving the whole thing, but each time that I get a little further, I understand more about how the Rubik's cube works and how various moves will affect the placement of certain squares.

After the first time I got two rows, I spent a good chunk of the weekend learning to do it consistently, until the moves became second nature the same way getting one row used to be. It requires thinking ahead one or two moves further than before, so it was an interesting challenge to wrap my head around it (figuratively speaking). I know there are tips to solving a Rubik's cube online, but I've decided to be my stubborn self and figure it out on my own. It's more fun that way. Plus, I feel like I get a more concrete feel for how the Rubik's cube works.

I suspect it will be quite a while before I solve that last row. I generally get within 4, 5, or 6 squares of solving it completely, but any squares I get in the bottom row are, so far, purely by chance.

4th of July Wanderings

Happy 4th of July, world! Well, United States, at any rate. Not sure how much the rest of the world cares... Personally I'm in it for the fireworks. Or am I?

These last few years on the 4th, the trend seems to be that I start thinking about my relationships with the people I'm close to, more than any other day of the year. It has something to do with childhood memories of sitting with my parents in a field or on a crowded parking garage roof with folding chairs and blankets. Waiting for the fireworks and seeing them set off in distant cities.

See, now days it's not the same as when I was a kid. One year I was back East with my uncle and we saw the Boston Pops, which was awesome. And a couple years ago my mom and I went to see fireworks by a lake and met a bunch of people that live on boats, and even though my dad didn't come with us that time, it came pretty close to feeling the way it used to. But there's been a few years in there where something seemed to be missing.

Other holidays changing doesn't seem to bother me; I don't care that I'm too old to go trick or treating anymore, if we don't put up a Christmas tree, if we don't remember to light the candles for Chanukah, if I don't get a birthday cake, or even if there there are no potato latkes for Pesach... are right, there have to be latkes, but my point is that I'm usually all right with change.


Luckily, this year, my new friend and I managed to be out and about and get a lot of wandering in. And we may not see fireworks, but I feel good about the day. I guess that for whatever reason, on 4th of July, I just have to get out of the house and not be on my own.

Does anyone else have a holiday or tradition that affects them like this?

Courage and Social Interactions

Courage does not mean being fearless, but being able to face your fears. This may sound familiar to you, but for me it didn't mean much until I began to have experiences that backed the idea up.

There are a few mild examples from when I was younger, such as overcoming arachnophobia. First, I stopped being mindlessly afraid and tried to analyse why. I convinced myself that I wasn't really afraid of spiders, I just didn't want to hurt them. Whether this was the real reason or not, the change in my thought pattern did wonders.

Now I'm intrigued by spiders and the information I read about them. When I find one inside, I'll usually try to capture it. I'm still nervous doing this and don't want them to get too close, so I only have about a 70% success rate. But hey, better than calling for my dad to deal it. For the most part, however, growing up I was...well...a wimp. Whenever I was afraid of something, I would figure out every possible way of avoiding the situation.

Again, I want to talk about social situations with strangers, one of my biggest fears. Growing up, if I started talking to someone and I said something really stupid or careless, I would do the only thing I could think of to avoid ever being that embarrassed again; talk as little as possible. As a result, I rarely saw others as sources of light hearted conversation, but instead as potential witnesses to my own idiocy if I didn't carefully construct every statement.

I wasn't aware of my own tactics at the time because I didn't realize the full extent of my fear. After all, I had effectively avoided the situations that caused the fear. My new fear is of not being able to say anything at all when I'm trying to talk with someone. So why didn't I have that second fear before, the one about not being able to communicate? Because social situations with strangers were rare for me. I had managed to avoid most of those to begin with by not having any real interest in initiating contact with new people (unless they made me feel completely safe first).

A few years ago, when I began consciously seeking out new acquaintances, I was at a loss as to why I was still having trouble with conversations. It's because I have to go a level deeper; I stopped avoiding social situations (somewhat), but I haven't stopped censoring myself. It's a very ingrained habit that will take time to change. But I know my next step will be to face my fear of saying something idiotic.

Perhaps the way to do this would be to go ahead and let stupid things slip out every once in a while, and learn not to care so much. I doubt I'll turn into someone who has no filter between my brain and my mouth, but I think it's high time I changed the type of filter.

Attempting to Skateboard

Whoohoo! Just got back from my first skateboarding attempt ever (went with a couple friends). Even though all I can do is scoot along for a few seconds at a time and turn a tiny bit, if feels great! I think taking a break every once in a while to do something new and exciting is really helpful to someone like me who has an endless work load; I actually feel more motivated to study for my Calculus test now than I have all day.

Life is so good right now! I've gone from being a hopeless pessimist to a total optimist in the past three years or so. That's a long story...suffice it to say that I've changed a lot and I plan on changing more, and it's the best feeling in the world!

Ravens

Two ravens greeted me on my way to the bus stop, the other day. As I walked by, one of them flapped it's great wings a few times, unconvincingly, and went back to searching for bugs a couple feet from where it had been standing before I came. I slowed down to look, and to keep from scaring them away. The second raven stood there, unalarmed. I stared at it and admired it's deep black feathers and curved beak. It stared back at me, not so impressed. I shrugged and went on my way.

Every year, around this time, I can't seem to see anything but beauty. Some trees are so brilliant they look like a snapshot of fire. Even those trees that keep their leaves green have their charm. They always have. There's a tree on my walk home, for example, which never fails to make life peaceful. It's leaves hang down from it's branches, and even the gentlest breeze will make them rustle like a cross between the sound of rain and waves at the beach. I can't say I stop to smell the roses, exactly, but I least I slow down and try to catch a whiff of their scent as I walk by.

Regrets

I'm thinking about old friends. An old friend I let down once. Don't know that I'll ever see him again, and it gets me wondering if he's all right now. If the world's been kind since the cruelty of childhood. If he knows I wished to have done better. If things are going to turn out all right after all the pains of the past... I just hope things are different now.

And then I wonder; should I try to contact him, or would that be self interest? A need to ease the guilt and regret? Could I undo the wrongs of before by being the friend now that I always meant to be? Or should I just...let it all go. Do better next time. Well yes, I'll do better next time, but what about the past, is it really gone? I don't know. What I do know is that I'm never going to lose my friends of now like that. No matter what the circumstances, I'll find a way to be there for them. Somehow, I will learn.

Life is such an odd sensation, isn't it? This bunch of memories, sometimes lurking in the back of your mind, jumping out at you in your dreams when you least expect them. Why? Life is so strange. Regrets right alongside the desperate hopes which feel much the same. No time like the present, they say. I have to agree.