Targeted naltrexone administration ("the Sinclair Method," our focus here) is the bee's knees for people addicted primarily to the opioid reward. For people whose addiction functions more via GABA receptors, daily high-dose baclofen has some risk but also some good results. Baclofen is still in the "early results are promising" stage, but the Sinclair Method's efficacy is well-established.
What disturbs me is that this has been well-established for some time and yet we still think people should just abstain from alcohol and join a support group. That approach pretty much doesn't work. 95% of the people who try it will fail.
Why do we most strongly promote the method which is both most difficult and least successful? I think we believe that addicts deserve to suffer.
If someone has a broken leg, we fix the problem. We don't get into a pointless argument about whether he jumped off the roof, fell by accident, or was thrown by an assailant. We fix the leg first. But if someone develops an addiction, hoo boy does the blame start flying -- and the addict should be forced to do it the hardest possible way, as penance.
If the guy jumped, he was foolish to do it. Whether he jumped or was pushed, he still deserves reasonable medical care. The guy who jumped shouldn't be denied proper medical care on the grounds that he did something foolish.
If we denied real medical care to everyone who contributed to his/her own problem, there would be no cardiac care for anyone who ever ate fast food or drank coffee. Cancer treatments would be denied to anyone who ever went near carcinogens. The entire field of sports medicine would disappear. Since none of us are perfect, most of us would die young.
It's time to stop insisting that addicts need spirituality instead of proper care. It's time to treat addicts with no more but no less respect and concern than anyone else with a health problem. It's time to let addicts have proper medical treatment.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Friday, June 20, 2014
"I Get No Pleasure From Drinking"
Interesting discussion over on www.thesinclairmethod.net -- one participant said (I'm paraphrasing) that people who drink after trauma should focus on addressing the trauma, that people who drink to relax and to deal with anxiety should try the baclofen approach first, and that the Sinclair Method was best suited for people who drink to get high. I think she has a good point and that that's a reasonable approach. However, there's a snag -- some of us are maintaining our self-respect by maintaining that we loathe drinking and everything about it.
I'm always surprised when I hear an addict or recent ex-addict say that there was no pleasure in drinking. Some people say, and probably even believe, that there was no high or enjoyment of any kind in drinking, only the illusion of pleasure from the relief of addiction. This is not true, yet many of us believe it.
If this mistaken belief is widespread, it could be bad. If we don't know what we are conditioned to seek (euphoria, in our case), then we don't know what to block (opioid receptors) to break the conditioning. I can easily imagine someone convincing himself that he drinks only due to addiction, gets no pleasure from it at all . . . and therefore is not a good candidate for a method which works by blocking pleasure.
That would blow.
Really, the majority of people conditioned to drink are conditioned to seeking the pleasure. Yes, it is no longer under our conscious control, but the presence of conditioning doesn't mean the absence of the physiological euphoria which everyone feels upon consuming alcohol.
If you think that your addiction is 100% pain and 0% pleasure, consider that you may be fooling yourself. There are a number of reasons to deny the inherent pleasure, chief among them being shame that we are (apparently) choosing this cheap temporary pleasure in the face of all reason and common sense. It's okay. You're conditioned; it's not a free choice any more. Any shame attaching must be to the earlier decisions, not to last night's bender. The thing to do now is to fix the problem.
I'm always surprised when I hear an addict or recent ex-addict say that there was no pleasure in drinking. Some people say, and probably even believe, that there was no high or enjoyment of any kind in drinking, only the illusion of pleasure from the relief of addiction. This is not true, yet many of us believe it.
If this mistaken belief is widespread, it could be bad. If we don't know what we are conditioned to seek (euphoria, in our case), then we don't know what to block (opioid receptors) to break the conditioning. I can easily imagine someone convincing himself that he drinks only due to addiction, gets no pleasure from it at all . . . and therefore is not a good candidate for a method which works by blocking pleasure.
That would blow.
Really, the majority of people conditioned to drink are conditioned to seeking the pleasure. Yes, it is no longer under our conscious control, but the presence of conditioning doesn't mean the absence of the physiological euphoria which everyone feels upon consuming alcohol.
If you think that your addiction is 100% pain and 0% pleasure, consider that you may be fooling yourself. There are a number of reasons to deny the inherent pleasure, chief among them being shame that we are (apparently) choosing this cheap temporary pleasure in the face of all reason and common sense. It's okay. You're conditioned; it's not a free choice any more. Any shame attaching must be to the earlier decisions, not to last night's bender. The thing to do now is to fix the problem.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Finding Support
Some have asked me where they can find support for doing the Sinclair Method. I'm happy to talk with people, but I'm not available 100% of the time, and there are an awful lot of desperate people out there.
The best place to find mutual support is TheSinclairMethod.net. It's a free message board. There are people from all over the world, so help is potentially available 24/7. It's reasonably private -- you have to register to read, although of course nothing is truly private online and pseudonyms are always suggested.
Don't leave off the "the" at the beginning or you'll find yourself at the page of a Sinclair Method inpatient/outpatient clinic.
I've heard a couple of people say that they would like live support groups. I doubt this will ever happen, because most people don't want or need it. It's simple to do and it usually works in months rather than decades, so endless meetings are just not a part of it. I suppose a really huge place like New York City might produce enough people who would like face to face meetings, but I've never heard of it happening.
Your best bet is to join the message board and find a few particular buddies. If you struggle with the temptation of skipping nal, which is the main pitfall, some folks might share texting numbers with you.
I don't mean to discourage anyone from emailing me. unchainedmouse at gmail dot com remains available to anyone who wants my help and support. We're all in this life together, you know? I just hate to be anyone's sole lifeline when I know that I won't always be available.
The best place to find mutual support is TheSinclairMethod.net. It's a free message board. There are people from all over the world, so help is potentially available 24/7. It's reasonably private -- you have to register to read, although of course nothing is truly private online and pseudonyms are always suggested.
Don't leave off the "the" at the beginning or you'll find yourself at the page of a Sinclair Method inpatient/outpatient clinic.
I've heard a couple of people say that they would like live support groups. I doubt this will ever happen, because most people don't want or need it. It's simple to do and it usually works in months rather than decades, so endless meetings are just not a part of it. I suppose a really huge place like New York City might produce enough people who would like face to face meetings, but I've never heard of it happening.
Your best bet is to join the message board and find a few particular buddies. If you struggle with the temptation of skipping nal, which is the main pitfall, some folks might share texting numbers with you.
I don't mean to discourage anyone from emailing me. unchainedmouse at gmail dot com remains available to anyone who wants my help and support. We're all in this life together, you know? I just hate to be anyone's sole lifeline when I know that I won't always be available.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
"That's not the real me"
We seem to have an idea of our "real" selves. This real self is as pure as the driven snow. Whenever we do something wrong, we insist that that isn't like us, it's not the sort of thing we do, it's not who we really are.
A flat-out narcissist may deny that the event happened at all. "I am a good person; a good person would not do that; therefore I did not do that." The logic is flawless, even if the premises are a bit skewed. These people are not simply lying. They have actually rewritten history in their minds so that the actions which don't flatter them never occurred.
Most of us will admit that the event happened and simply insist that it doesn't reflect our true inner character. "Yes, I got a DUI, but I'm not really a drunk driver." This lets us continue to believe that we have a real self which is good and kind and honest, and that bad decisions and actions were the result of other factors outside our control. This is a large part of the appeal of the disease model.
To the sufficiently confused, the idea can go 'round and 'round forever. "That was out of character for me, so something else must have made me do it. That means I have a behavioral disease. Since I have a behavioral disease, I sometimes do things which aren't my true self. That means other bad actions (such as lying about how much I drink) can also be part of the behavioral disease." And so we end up with an idiotic paradigm in which lying is a sign of the disease of alcoholism and the person doing all this stuff can still be a virtuous person.
I first noticed this after my second DUI, lo these many years ago, while confined in a 12-Step rehab center. During one session they did a sort of reverse hotseat on me, pelting me with the idea that I wasn't a bad person (I kinda was) and didn't want to drink too much (I totally did) and wasn't the sort of person who would drive drunk. Uh, wait a minute -- I did drive drunk. If I did it, then it is something I would do. It was an odd experience, struggling to take responsibility for my actions while a roomful of people insisted that I wasn't responsible for them.
"Wait a minute, Mouse. Isn't having a defect of character part of the 12-Step model?" Sort of, but most of them don't act like it. The defect becomes another thing separate from the true self, the flawless -- but imaginary -- being who would never neglect the kids or waste the family's savings. This is how "character defect" and "disease" get all mixed up. Praying for the defects to be removed becomes rather like praying for a demon to be exorcised. Legitimate religions acknowledge that the vast majority of our bad deeds are our own fault, and ask us to mend our ways.
Unless you are a hardcore exemplar of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, you have the ability to acknowledge that you are the sum of your actions. There is only one you. Your good and bad and neutral actions are all part of that one you. There is no way to free the inner self who is 100% virtuous, because that self is imaginary.
Your mission, should you accept it, is to decrease the number of bad actions and increase the number of good ones in order to better yourself. To "better" yourself -- to make yourself a better person.
A flat-out narcissist may deny that the event happened at all. "I am a good person; a good person would not do that; therefore I did not do that." The logic is flawless, even if the premises are a bit skewed. These people are not simply lying. They have actually rewritten history in their minds so that the actions which don't flatter them never occurred.
Most of us will admit that the event happened and simply insist that it doesn't reflect our true inner character. "Yes, I got a DUI, but I'm not really a drunk driver." This lets us continue to believe that we have a real self which is good and kind and honest, and that bad decisions and actions were the result of other factors outside our control. This is a large part of the appeal of the disease model.
To the sufficiently confused, the idea can go 'round and 'round forever. "That was out of character for me, so something else must have made me do it. That means I have a behavioral disease. Since I have a behavioral disease, I sometimes do things which aren't my true self. That means other bad actions (such as lying about how much I drink) can also be part of the behavioral disease." And so we end up with an idiotic paradigm in which lying is a sign of the disease of alcoholism and the person doing all this stuff can still be a virtuous person.
I first noticed this after my second DUI, lo these many years ago, while confined in a 12-Step rehab center. During one session they did a sort of reverse hotseat on me, pelting me with the idea that I wasn't a bad person (I kinda was) and didn't want to drink too much (I totally did) and wasn't the sort of person who would drive drunk. Uh, wait a minute -- I did drive drunk. If I did it, then it is something I would do. It was an odd experience, struggling to take responsibility for my actions while a roomful of people insisted that I wasn't responsible for them.
"Wait a minute, Mouse. Isn't having a defect of character part of the 12-Step model?" Sort of, but most of them don't act like it. The defect becomes another thing separate from the true self, the flawless -- but imaginary -- being who would never neglect the kids or waste the family's savings. This is how "character defect" and "disease" get all mixed up. Praying for the defects to be removed becomes rather like praying for a demon to be exorcised. Legitimate religions acknowledge that the vast majority of our bad deeds are our own fault, and ask us to mend our ways.
Unless you are a hardcore exemplar of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, you have the ability to acknowledge that you are the sum of your actions. There is only one you. Your good and bad and neutral actions are all part of that one you. There is no way to free the inner self who is 100% virtuous, because that self is imaginary.
Your mission, should you accept it, is to decrease the number of bad actions and increase the number of good ones in order to better yourself. To "better" yourself -- to make yourself a better person.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
More on the De-Cured
Lately I've met a few of the de-cured, the folks who were once cured but then went back to alcohol. Some have concluded that the Sinclair Method is overhyped and is not a good long-term solution. It's true that, out of ten who start, only five will be cured at the three-year mark.
This may seem like a coin-flip, but consider how much better that is than with most other approaches. Seven of ten are cured at one year, five of those seven are still cured at three years -- that's much, much better than most other things out there. Yet it does mean that two out of our starting ten will be fully cured and then choose to go back to alcohol and re-develop addiction.
What does this mean?
For me, at least, it means that I should be careful about evangelizing too enthusiastically. Even if we consider only cured people, we should be aware that about two in seven will walk back into the trap. That's not a negligible number.
For me, this came up today when I read someone saying that, two years after quitting drinking (the AA way), he still had strong cravings for alcohol and still had to be careful to avoid triggers. I would have liked to tell him and others that I know a better way, that I have no cravings and ignore things which once were triggers . . . but I thought better of it.
I've met too many de-cured people, and it's bothering me.
I've also met quite a few permanently cured people, of course. More of them, in fact. This highly successful method should be more widely known and practiced, absolutely. But it should be presented realistically, without excessive hype about "88% cured" and "you'll be a happy social drinker."
I haven't fully sorted out my thoughts and feelings on this. I know that the Sinclair Method works very well. I also know that it's sometimes oversold. Perhaps overselling is necessary in order to get it into the marketplace of ideas at all, but that's just not my nature.
I'm sure my ideas will continue to evolve. I'll have a great game plan a year from now. Right now, though, I've taken a step back from spreading the word.
This may seem like a coin-flip, but consider how much better that is than with most other approaches. Seven of ten are cured at one year, five of those seven are still cured at three years -- that's much, much better than most other things out there. Yet it does mean that two out of our starting ten will be fully cured and then choose to go back to alcohol and re-develop addiction.
What does this mean?
For me, at least, it means that I should be careful about evangelizing too enthusiastically. Even if we consider only cured people, we should be aware that about two in seven will walk back into the trap. That's not a negligible number.
For me, this came up today when I read someone saying that, two years after quitting drinking (the AA way), he still had strong cravings for alcohol and still had to be careful to avoid triggers. I would have liked to tell him and others that I know a better way, that I have no cravings and ignore things which once were triggers . . . but I thought better of it.
I've met too many de-cured people, and it's bothering me.
I've also met quite a few permanently cured people, of course. More of them, in fact. This highly successful method should be more widely known and practiced, absolutely. But it should be presented realistically, without excessive hype about "88% cured" and "you'll be a happy social drinker."
I haven't fully sorted out my thoughts and feelings on this. I know that the Sinclair Method works very well. I also know that it's sometimes oversold. Perhaps overselling is necessary in order to get it into the marketplace of ideas at all, but that's just not my nature.
I'm sure my ideas will continue to evolve. I'll have a great game plan a year from now. Right now, though, I've taken a step back from spreading the word.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, pt 5
Mate now delves into the neuroscience of addiction. The opioid and dopamine systems are both vitally involved. We TSM advocates know the role of the opioid system, but the dopamine aspects add new wrinkles.
The dopamine reward system is triggered by anticipation of the pleasurable act, or even by simply thinking about it. We read earlier, in The Heart of Addiction, that relief from the pressure of addiction comes from the moment when we say "screw it" and decide to go ahead with it. Mate is explaining the neuroscience of that bit of psychology.
This, I believe, explains why TSM often takes a while to work. Although the opioid system is disrupted by the naltrexone, the dopamine system is still in place and giving us some satisfaction from the addiction. It's about association, and we've spent a long time associating alcohol with the endorphin rush, thereby making alcohol into its own dopamine reward system.
An approach which disrupted both systems might make us all into those lucky three-pill cure folks.
Addicts are deficient in both opioid and dopamine receptors when compared to non-addicted people. It's not totally clear whether this is the cause of or the result of addiction. Of course, there's no reason why it couldn't be both -- some people are especially vulnerable, they fall prey, and the addiction seems to help while making the underlying neurological problem worse. We often see a downward spiral in addiction.
The dopamine reward system is triggered by anticipation of the pleasurable act, or even by simply thinking about it. We read earlier, in The Heart of Addiction, that relief from the pressure of addiction comes from the moment when we say "screw it" and decide to go ahead with it. Mate is explaining the neuroscience of that bit of psychology.
This, I believe, explains why TSM often takes a while to work. Although the opioid system is disrupted by the naltrexone, the dopamine system is still in place and giving us some satisfaction from the addiction. It's about association, and we've spent a long time associating alcohol with the endorphin rush, thereby making alcohol into its own dopamine reward system.
An approach which disrupted both systems might make us all into those lucky three-pill cure folks.
Addicts are deficient in both opioid and dopamine receptors when compared to non-addicted people. It's not totally clear whether this is the cause of or the result of addiction. Of course, there's no reason why it couldn't be both -- some people are especially vulnerable, they fall prey, and the addiction seems to help while making the underlying neurological problem worse. We often see a downward spiral in addiction.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, pt 4
“It's hard to get enough of something that almost works.” Vincent Felitti MD as quoted by Gabor Mate.
Yep.
What we really crave is the state of not craving. We get that only momentarily, while we're in the act of indulging the craving. Many of us find that there's no such thing as "enough" of whatever we crave, at least not all of the time. Many of us also find that even giving in to the craving doesn't work completely. Even while in the act of indulging, we want more because it only almost worked.
It's good, very good indeed, that we have the Sinclair Method to squelch that craving.
Mate talks here about his own problem with compulsively purchasing music. Some of the Amazon reviews scorned him for seeing parallels between this and drug addiction, but it sure sounds to me like the guy has a problem. If he blew thousands at the racetrack instead of the record store, would we still accuse him of self-important whining?
Mate attends an AA meeting, and climbs on board with the notion that "sobriety" is an inner state rather than simply the condition of not being drunk. The 12-Step programs have rather hijacked this term. Aren't they now using this to mean what they used to call "serenity"? Or is "serenity" a higher state along the same path? Perhaps a Stepper reading this will explain how these terms are used in modern AA. Regardless, Mate seemed to find something of value in AA, and states that he plans to attend more open meetings.
Mate believes that addiction is a whole-life condition with many parts -- biological, mental, emotional, social, spiritual, and a dozen others. He deliberately avoids the "disease" term because it simplifies something complex.
He's probably right. Addiction isn't measles.
The Sinclair Method terminology says that we'll be "cured" of alcoholism and that we've reached this cure when the alcohol-seeking behavior is completely extinguished. Many of us don't like that term and don't find it accurate. We will never be people with no history of addiction. Alcohol will always be in our minds, somewhere, as an option.
Yep.
What we really crave is the state of not craving. We get that only momentarily, while we're in the act of indulging the craving. Many of us find that there's no such thing as "enough" of whatever we crave, at least not all of the time. Many of us also find that even giving in to the craving doesn't work completely. Even while in the act of indulging, we want more because it only almost worked.
It's good, very good indeed, that we have the Sinclair Method to squelch that craving.
Mate talks here about his own problem with compulsively purchasing music. Some of the Amazon reviews scorned him for seeing parallels between this and drug addiction, but it sure sounds to me like the guy has a problem. If he blew thousands at the racetrack instead of the record store, would we still accuse him of self-important whining?
Mate attends an AA meeting, and climbs on board with the notion that "sobriety" is an inner state rather than simply the condition of not being drunk. The 12-Step programs have rather hijacked this term. Aren't they now using this to mean what they used to call "serenity"? Or is "serenity" a higher state along the same path? Perhaps a Stepper reading this will explain how these terms are used in modern AA. Regardless, Mate seemed to find something of value in AA, and states that he plans to attend more open meetings.
Mate believes that addiction is a whole-life condition with many parts -- biological, mental, emotional, social, spiritual, and a dozen others. He deliberately avoids the "disease" term because it simplifies something complex.
He's probably right. Addiction isn't measles.
The Sinclair Method terminology says that we'll be "cured" of alcoholism and that we've reached this cure when the alcohol-seeking behavior is completely extinguished. Many of us don't like that term and don't find it accurate. We will never be people with no history of addiction. Alcohol will always be in our minds, somewhere, as an option.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, pt 3
Mate finishes the first section by talking about how some of his clients feels a void he describes as spiritual, while others have a deep and aching sense of isolation. For some, the community of heavy drug users is the only place they have ever known a sense of community. For Mate these two drives are not unrelated, since he believes that each of us have a spark of the divine struggling to connect with the spark of the divine in others. This doesn't necessarily have to be a literal piece of holy spirit, although it might be. Depending on the person's own paradigm, the desire for connection could be a desire for God or for community or for any number of other things.
We've begun to see a few stories in which the people had what looked from the outside to be decent lives, until addiction brought them low.
This is good stuff, although much more philosophical than some would prefer. It speaks to me.
We've begun to see a few stories in which the people had what looked from the outside to be decent lives, until addiction brought them low.
This is good stuff, although much more philosophical than some would prefer. It speaks to me.
Friday, April 18, 2014
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, pt 2
Mate tells more of his pointed and poignant tales. I was particularly struck by the tale of Celia and Rick -- Celia actively addicted, Rick white-knuckle abstinent -- and their determination to have and love their child. If life worked the way it should, they would have overcome their demons and showered the baby with love. In this life, the baby was placed in a foster home and the parents were left to mourn the child and their failure.
We've already seen the horrible childhoods of many addicts. Now we're seeing the other side. Celia and Rick had the best of intentions, but could not control their addictions (that's what addiction means, after all), and created a bad environment in spite of good intentions. Vows to change just aren't enough.
This story was so deeply sad that I stopped reading early. I think I'll get to more linkage soon, though, since Mate has already mentioned that he sees lesser versions of these dreadful patterns in his own life.
We've already seen the horrible childhoods of many addicts. Now we're seeing the other side. Celia and Rick had the best of intentions, but could not control their addictions (that's what addiction means, after all), and created a bad environment in spite of good intentions. Vows to change just aren't enough.
This story was so deeply sad that I stopped reading early. I think I'll get to more linkage soon, though, since Mate has already mentioned that he sees lesser versions of these dreadful patterns in his own life.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, pt 1
I just started reading this, and I'll take you through it with me as I did with The Heart of Addiction. Again, I'm reading in small chunks to digest it more thoroughly.
The author uses an unusual organizational style. Each chapter's point is summarized by delving into one real-life story.
The opening stories are those of some truly unhappy people, the "junkies" who live on the streets or in government housing. Their lives often began, and then continued, with some truly horrific abuse. This isn't "my mother belittled me." This is "my mother shut me in the dryer for hours at a time."
No one with an ounce of compassion would deny that these stories are horrible. Mate's gift, such as it is, is in linking those wounded people to the addicts they currently are. It's easy to understand their unbearable inner state, their endless, bottomless, need for something to dull the pain and make them happy.
These people aren't the so-called functional addicts, and so probably aren't the ones who buy and read these books. I expect he'll get to that later. Amazon reviews indicated that Mate was able to make the leap needed to tie these more dramatic tales in with the more common compulsions hidden among the functional addicts.
It's quickly apparent that he rejects the falsified "disease" hypothesis. Indeed, "rejects" isn't quite the right word since he never brings it up -- it's quite cheering, really, to see that a dumb idea which has been mucking things up since the late 70's is finally going into the dustbin of history. People are seeing less and less need to pretend that behavior can be a disease. We'll gradually revise the taxonomy to be more accurate, and some day addictions won't be treated differently from other compulsions (and none of them will be "diseases").
Anyway, back to the book.
Aside from talking about early experiences which left addicts as vulnerable people, he talks about the role drugs play in their lives. They may, for example, make isolation bearable or make it easier to overcome. For one woman, drugs were the only thing she shared with her mother.
It's sad reading.
The author uses an unusual organizational style. Each chapter's point is summarized by delving into one real-life story.
The opening stories are those of some truly unhappy people, the "junkies" who live on the streets or in government housing. Their lives often began, and then continued, with some truly horrific abuse. This isn't "my mother belittled me." This is "my mother shut me in the dryer for hours at a time."
No one with an ounce of compassion would deny that these stories are horrible. Mate's gift, such as it is, is in linking those wounded people to the addicts they currently are. It's easy to understand their unbearable inner state, their endless, bottomless, need for something to dull the pain and make them happy.
These people aren't the so-called functional addicts, and so probably aren't the ones who buy and read these books. I expect he'll get to that later. Amazon reviews indicated that Mate was able to make the leap needed to tie these more dramatic tales in with the more common compulsions hidden among the functional addicts.
It's quickly apparent that he rejects the falsified "disease" hypothesis. Indeed, "rejects" isn't quite the right word since he never brings it up -- it's quite cheering, really, to see that a dumb idea which has been mucking things up since the late 70's is finally going into the dustbin of history. People are seeing less and less need to pretend that behavior can be a disease. We'll gradually revise the taxonomy to be more accurate, and some day addictions won't be treated differently from other compulsions (and none of them will be "diseases").
Anyway, back to the book.
Aside from talking about early experiences which left addicts as vulnerable people, he talks about the role drugs play in their lives. They may, for example, make isolation bearable or make it easier to overcome. For one woman, drugs were the only thing she shared with her mother.
It's sad reading.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Unchained Mouse on the Radio
I've been invited to talk about the Sinclair Method on an hour-long radio show, broadcast in the Boston area and podcast elsewhere. It's not until July, but I'm already thinking of what ducks I want to get in a row.
- It's not instant. It's a process, not a miracle pill.
- Drinking alcohol is not just "allowed," it's vital to unlearning.
- It's not a 100% surefire cure -- just much better than almost all others.
Any thoughts on what else I should be sure to include?
I'll post you on the time and URL as it draws nigher.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
"The first TSM clinic" isn't the first
Recently, the C3 Foundation claimed that Claudia Christian had opened "the first TSM clinic" in California.
It is really, really easy to learn that that is not the first TSM clinic.
http://lmgtfy.com/?q=sinclair+method+clinic
In fact, it's so stupefyingly easy to learn this that I can't help wonder why anyone would say otherwise. I mentioned this to the new owner of Naltrexone Confidential, and she replied that she thought the other clinics were about making money instead of helping people.
The new clinic isn't significantly cheaper. It's $3500 for the typical five months of outpatient, vs. $3800 for the best-known clinic. What's different about this that would justify billing it as "the first"?
EDIT: the page has been edited to the narrower statement that it's the first clinic "sponsored and approved by Dr. Sinclair himself." That's more accurate.
In other news, the C3 Foundation is also endorsing a particular online pharmacy in exchange for a cut of that pharmacy's profits, and is even selling gewgaws like an official C3 pillfob.
I guess there's no real harm to it, and it may increase public awareness. Heck, if Jenny McCarthy can convince people that vaccines are bad, maybe Claudia Christian can convince people of something that's actually supported by medical literature.
Something about all this leaves a bad taste in my mouth, though.
It is really, really easy to learn that that is not the first TSM clinic.
http://lmgtfy.com/?q=sinclair+method+clinic
In fact, it's so stupefyingly easy to learn this that I can't help wonder why anyone would say otherwise. I mentioned this to the new owner of Naltrexone Confidential, and she replied that she thought the other clinics were about making money instead of helping people.
The new clinic isn't significantly cheaper. It's $3500 for the typical five months of outpatient, vs. $3800 for the best-known clinic. What's different about this that would justify billing it as "the first"?
EDIT: the page has been edited to the narrower statement that it's the first clinic "sponsored and approved by Dr. Sinclair himself." That's more accurate.
In other news, the C3 Foundation is also endorsing a particular online pharmacy in exchange for a cut of that pharmacy's profits, and is even selling gewgaws like an official C3 pillfob.
I guess there's no real harm to it, and it may increase public awareness. Heck, if Jenny McCarthy can convince people that vaccines are bad, maybe Claudia Christian can convince people of something that's actually supported by medical literature.
Something about all this leaves a bad taste in my mouth, though.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
The Heart of Addiction, part 3
Well, I've finished The Heart of Addiction and am now reading Breaking Addiction by the same author. You may not need both; a lot of the information is the same, but the first is more informative and the second more practical.
The gist is that addiction is a result of displaced helplessness over some issue which is very important to us. This could date back to childhood, but doesn't have to -- adults can also have powerful experiences. When we first have thoughts of drinking (or whatever), that's the time to look at what's going on with us. When we get to the "fuck it" point where we decide to drink, we're doing something even though it's not the right thing.
The Sinclair Method broke my addiction to alcohol, but I still have a propensity to addictive behavior. Exploring this may keep me from being one of the 20% who are cured at the one-year mark but readdicted at the three-year mark.
For those keeping score at home, I'll go over the breakdown again:
10% not helped by the method at all
20% ditch the method or do it so improperly that it doesn't have its effect
20% are cured at the one-year mark but choose to return to the addiction
50% are cured at the three-year mark
I want to be in that 50%. I want to be aware of thoughts of drinking without naltrexone and deal with them instead of giving into them. At this point it seems impossible that I would ever drink without naltrexone again -- why on Earth would I want to do that? -- and yet a fair number of people do exactly that.
I want to be prepared in advance for that "fuck it" moment which leads people to drink off of naltrexone.
The gist is that addiction is a result of displaced helplessness over some issue which is very important to us. This could date back to childhood, but doesn't have to -- adults can also have powerful experiences. When we first have thoughts of drinking (or whatever), that's the time to look at what's going on with us. When we get to the "fuck it" point where we decide to drink, we're doing something even though it's not the right thing.
The Sinclair Method broke my addiction to alcohol, but I still have a propensity to addictive behavior. Exploring this may keep me from being one of the 20% who are cured at the one-year mark but readdicted at the three-year mark.
For those keeping score at home, I'll go over the breakdown again:
10% not helped by the method at all
20% ditch the method or do it so improperly that it doesn't have its effect
20% are cured at the one-year mark but choose to return to the addiction
50% are cured at the three-year mark
I want to be in that 50%. I want to be aware of thoughts of drinking without naltrexone and deal with them instead of giving into them. At this point it seems impossible that I would ever drink without naltrexone again -- why on Earth would I want to do that? -- and yet a fair number of people do exactly that.
I want to be prepared in advance for that "fuck it" moment which leads people to drink off of naltrexone.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
The Heart of Addiction, part 2
This is a bit rambly. Perhaps I'll edit it into better shape later, but I wanted to get my thoughts out there while they're fresh.
As I mentioned in part one, HoA's first good point is that the relief begins when we decide to drink, not only at the first drink. That's not relief from withdrawal. It's also not the innate euphoria, of course -- everyone feels that, most don't become addicted, and we addicts felt something much, much stronger. It's more than that. HoA says that it's a "fuck it" to our problems and a decisions to do something. It could also relate to giving up the struggle against the Deprivation Effect.
HoA suggests using the urge to drink (or whatever) as a signal to deploy another strategy instead. One example was an overworked guy who felt the "fuck it" and did ignore his work, but went for a run instead of drinking. That worked for him because he liked running. HoA didn't go into this, but presumably that wouldn't work for someone who saw running as an obligation (e.g., "I need to lose weight and exercise more"). Another was a woman who didn't exactly do something for herself but did dodge a request -- her "fuck it" response to a last-minute dinner party order was to order Chinese takeout instead of cooking a fancy meal, and this allowed her not to take Percodan.
Three common threads are rage, shame, and helplessness. Helplessness is probably the easiest to pin down. The overworked guy felt helpless to keep the work from piling on. His addictive response was to "fuck it" and ignore the work in order to drink. I feel for him. Drinking is great for that; nobody can expect us to work while drunk, and it's certainly a big F-U to the expectations. The overworked wife felt helpless in the face of the high expectations of husband, children, and mother. She wasn't truly helpless, and in fact solved her problem fairly neatly once she was able to do so. One wonders about the overworked man who bailed entirely by going for a run -- did his necessary work ever get done? If not, what happened?
I've paused reading to integrate this book's paradigm with my own thoughts, so I don't yet know how the author will incorporate old struggles, but I can't help observing that "helplessness" is a definite characteristic of anything in the past. None of us can change the past. Even if we had full control at the time, we can't go back and change it now . . . and yet, even knowing that, I find myself realizing that the most damaging situations were ones in which I was helpless at the time. I've made some bad choices and regretted some bad decisions, but none of them trigger the same helpless fury as being victimized does.
This, in its turn, leads me to wonder what to do with these old hurts. Since we can't change the past, we can't react differently to them.
I expect the book will get to this. The author has begun talking about a man whose need to be a "winner" (leading to gambling) ties back to being ignored in a crowd of children.
HoA doesn't focus on compulsion. One of its main points is that addiction can transfer from one object to another -- from pot to alcohol to gambling, new addiction targets popping up as old ones are shed. This is certainly true for many things. One thing HoA hasn't really addressed, at least not yet, is how we condition ourselves to one particular addiction. If my alcohol addiction were still present, a night at a casino could not just be swapped right in. We target one thing and focus on it, getting conditioned just as the lab rats do.
However, one thing TSM never addresses is how we get addicted in the first place. Eskapa's book handwaves it as "a disease" and gets right to the conditioning process, never exploring why some people condition themselves and others do not.
Neither TSM nor HoA models addiction as primarily a pleasure-seeking behavior.
TSM tries to eliminate shame by treating it solely as a behavioral process. HoA accepts the shame issue but treats it more gently, saying that we're all pretty screwed up and that addicts simply have a more obvious and socially-disapproved coping mechanism.
This ties in indirectly to my own musings that we now disapprove of behavior which was once normal. Five drinks is a binge; it used to be a dinner party. More direly -- a weekend bender was once a fun spree of irresponsibility for a young man or a sign of great stress in a mature man; now it's a sure sign of alcoholism. In looking for early warning signs of problem behaviors, we've problemized behaviors which were once within the range of normal.
Are today's open acknowledgements of drunkenness (e.g., "the best part of waking up is vodka in your cup," a shower-mountable wine glass holder) a swing away from this? Or are they just silly attempts to be edgy?
Again, HoA says that we all have psychological defects and flawed strategies -- the strategy of the addictive behavior is just a little splashier, making it more noticeable. It's not inherently worse, nor is it a sign of a weaker person.
As I mentioned in part one, HoA's first good point is that the relief begins when we decide to drink, not only at the first drink. That's not relief from withdrawal. It's also not the innate euphoria, of course -- everyone feels that, most don't become addicted, and we addicts felt something much, much stronger. It's more than that. HoA says that it's a "fuck it" to our problems and a decisions to do something. It could also relate to giving up the struggle against the Deprivation Effect.
HoA suggests using the urge to drink (or whatever) as a signal to deploy another strategy instead. One example was an overworked guy who felt the "fuck it" and did ignore his work, but went for a run instead of drinking. That worked for him because he liked running. HoA didn't go into this, but presumably that wouldn't work for someone who saw running as an obligation (e.g., "I need to lose weight and exercise more"). Another was a woman who didn't exactly do something for herself but did dodge a request -- her "fuck it" response to a last-minute dinner party order was to order Chinese takeout instead of cooking a fancy meal, and this allowed her not to take Percodan.
Three common threads are rage, shame, and helplessness. Helplessness is probably the easiest to pin down. The overworked guy felt helpless to keep the work from piling on. His addictive response was to "fuck it" and ignore the work in order to drink. I feel for him. Drinking is great for that; nobody can expect us to work while drunk, and it's certainly a big F-U to the expectations. The overworked wife felt helpless in the face of the high expectations of husband, children, and mother. She wasn't truly helpless, and in fact solved her problem fairly neatly once she was able to do so. One wonders about the overworked man who bailed entirely by going for a run -- did his necessary work ever get done? If not, what happened?
I've paused reading to integrate this book's paradigm with my own thoughts, so I don't yet know how the author will incorporate old struggles, but I can't help observing that "helplessness" is a definite characteristic of anything in the past. None of us can change the past. Even if we had full control at the time, we can't go back and change it now . . . and yet, even knowing that, I find myself realizing that the most damaging situations were ones in which I was helpless at the time. I've made some bad choices and regretted some bad decisions, but none of them trigger the same helpless fury as being victimized does.
This, in its turn, leads me to wonder what to do with these old hurts. Since we can't change the past, we can't react differently to them.
I expect the book will get to this. The author has begun talking about a man whose need to be a "winner" (leading to gambling) ties back to being ignored in a crowd of children.
HoA doesn't focus on compulsion. One of its main points is that addiction can transfer from one object to another -- from pot to alcohol to gambling, new addiction targets popping up as old ones are shed. This is certainly true for many things. One thing HoA hasn't really addressed, at least not yet, is how we condition ourselves to one particular addiction. If my alcohol addiction were still present, a night at a casino could not just be swapped right in. We target one thing and focus on it, getting conditioned just as the lab rats do.
However, one thing TSM never addresses is how we get addicted in the first place. Eskapa's book handwaves it as "a disease" and gets right to the conditioning process, never exploring why some people condition themselves and others do not.
Neither TSM nor HoA models addiction as primarily a pleasure-seeking behavior.
TSM tries to eliminate shame by treating it solely as a behavioral process. HoA accepts the shame issue but treats it more gently, saying that we're all pretty screwed up and that addicts simply have a more obvious and socially-disapproved coping mechanism.
This ties in indirectly to my own musings that we now disapprove of behavior which was once normal. Five drinks is a binge; it used to be a dinner party. More direly -- a weekend bender was once a fun spree of irresponsibility for a young man or a sign of great stress in a mature man; now it's a sure sign of alcoholism. In looking for early warning signs of problem behaviors, we've problemized behaviors which were once within the range of normal.
Are today's open acknowledgements of drunkenness (e.g., "the best part of waking up is vodka in your cup," a shower-mountable wine glass holder) a swing away from this? Or are they just silly attempts to be edgy?
Again, HoA says that we all have psychological defects and flawed strategies -- the strategy of the addictive behavior is just a little splashier, making it more noticeable. It's not inherently worse, nor is it a sign of a weaker person.
The Heart of Addiction, part 1
For more than a few people, breaking the active addiction is all that's needed. The original creator of Naltrexone Confidential is a great example of this. Whatever originally led to the addiction, at this point the addiction itself is all that's wrong. Breaking that single, powerful chain is all that's required to be content and satisfied.
For others, the things which led us into addiction are still in place once that horrible chain is snapped. Some find that the addiction simply moves to a different focus -- for example, an alcoholic who becomes a non-alcoholic may one day realize that he is gambling to excess.
I'm currently reading The Heart of Addiction. Although I regard myself as cured in TSM terms, I've noticed some displacement of addictive behavior to a different focus (junk food in my case), and I also just like reading about different paradigms. I'm a curious gal.
I haven't finished the book, but one of the things that struck me quickly was the author's (correct) observation that the pressure eases as soon as we decide to engage in the addiction, not when we actually begin. In my case, e.g., there was no alcohol in the house and I had a bad craving, and the craving eased once I'd made the decision to head to the convenience store. I didn't actually have to have beer in hand and bottle top off.
This doesn't contradict TSM. Once I had made the decision to drink, I was no longer struggling against the Alcohol Deprivation Effect. We all know that physiological addiction is the least of it, so in a very real sense I was engaging in the addiction as soon as I had decided to do so.
This guy has a somewhat different theoretical model, though -- he thinks the real relief comes from the "fuck it" decision because it's an expression of power. In his view, the addiction is a sort of ill-advised compromise between what we really want to do but can't (e.g., punch the boss) and doing nothing at all.
This reminds me of the "life process" theory of ending addiction. Most people emerge from addictions quite naturally, over time (unless of course we shove them into AA to learn powerlessness and the rest). And it's the young who so often have little real power, isn't it? Even when they are legally adults, they're often stuck in the role of a helpless child -- they may be financially dependent on their parents, socially treated as a child . . . in fact, typing this sentence reminded me how my family treated me when I was newly fledged, and bam -- rage.
I think he may be on to something here. Being stuck in bad situations we can't change may lead us to lash out, and addiction may be one way of lashing out. It's that "fuck it" decision which, in this paradigm, is vital. The addiction is not a good choice as a coping mechanism, but it is a coping mechanism. It keeps us from curling into a whimpering ball of helplessness.
I haven't finished the book. I'll probably keep writing up observations on my blog.
For others, the things which led us into addiction are still in place once that horrible chain is snapped. Some find that the addiction simply moves to a different focus -- for example, an alcoholic who becomes a non-alcoholic may one day realize that he is gambling to excess.
I'm currently reading The Heart of Addiction. Although I regard myself as cured in TSM terms, I've noticed some displacement of addictive behavior to a different focus (junk food in my case), and I also just like reading about different paradigms. I'm a curious gal.
I haven't finished the book, but one of the things that struck me quickly was the author's (correct) observation that the pressure eases as soon as we decide to engage in the addiction, not when we actually begin. In my case, e.g., there was no alcohol in the house and I had a bad craving, and the craving eased once I'd made the decision to head to the convenience store. I didn't actually have to have beer in hand and bottle top off.
This doesn't contradict TSM. Once I had made the decision to drink, I was no longer struggling against the Alcohol Deprivation Effect. We all know that physiological addiction is the least of it, so in a very real sense I was engaging in the addiction as soon as I had decided to do so.
This guy has a somewhat different theoretical model, though -- he thinks the real relief comes from the "fuck it" decision because it's an expression of power. In his view, the addiction is a sort of ill-advised compromise between what we really want to do but can't (e.g., punch the boss) and doing nothing at all.
This reminds me of the "life process" theory of ending addiction. Most people emerge from addictions quite naturally, over time (unless of course we shove them into AA to learn powerlessness and the rest). And it's the young who so often have little real power, isn't it? Even when they are legally adults, they're often stuck in the role of a helpless child -- they may be financially dependent on their parents, socially treated as a child . . . in fact, typing this sentence reminded me how my family treated me when I was newly fledged, and bam -- rage.
I think he may be on to something here. Being stuck in bad situations we can't change may lead us to lash out, and addiction may be one way of lashing out. It's that "fuck it" decision which, in this paradigm, is vital. The addiction is not a good choice as a coping mechanism, but it is a coping mechanism. It keeps us from curling into a whimpering ball of helplessness.
I haven't finished the book. I'll probably keep writing up observations on my blog.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
It's Too Easy
Well, it's been a while since I posted. Am I running out of things to say? No, not exactly. I've just had my attention on other things. It's amazing how quickly our attention turns to our real lives when we're recovered instead of just "in recovery."
Still, I continue to think about some things. I read the forum and Naltrexone Confidential. I recently noticed a post on NC which lists nine steps to success.
None of these ideas are bad ideas, but it's really not as complicated as that makes it sound. It's dead simple, in fact. You don't have to buy the book. You don't need a fob on your keychain. You don't have to go jogging on days when you don't drink. You're certainly free to do any or all of those things, but it isn't necessary.
The only thing you must do to succeed is to take a large-enough dose of naltrexone or nalmefene one hour before drinking alcohol. That's it. That's the extent of the grand plan.
The drink diary is useful for some people, so that they can see the numbers dropping even if their progress is relatively slow. For others, it's a hassle which puts far too much emphasis on alcohol. It's probably a good idea to note your pre-TSM consumption and to check in with the numbers occasionally, but you don't necessarily have to write in a drink diary every day.
These extraneous steps may be useful in that they raise the barrier to entry. People who just drink too much, who aren't really addicted, may be turned off by the work which seems required. That's probably a good thing, but why are these people coming to TSM in the first place?
I think the answer is the "You can still drink!" line. People get the impression, largely from the book, that naltrexone is a "normality pill" and that they will become normal, non-addicted drinkers. Because it is so very easy to take a pill before drinking, lots of people try TSM who aren't really good candidates for it. When they realize that they won't get a buzz any more, they eliminate the buzz blocker.
Essentially, it's too easy. People who don't need it try it, and they bail out because it's working too well.
Still, I continue to think about some things. I read the forum and Naltrexone Confidential. I recently noticed a post on NC which lists nine steps to success.
None of these ideas are bad ideas, but it's really not as complicated as that makes it sound. It's dead simple, in fact. You don't have to buy the book. You don't need a fob on your keychain. You don't have to go jogging on days when you don't drink. You're certainly free to do any or all of those things, but it isn't necessary.
The only thing you must do to succeed is to take a large-enough dose of naltrexone or nalmefene one hour before drinking alcohol. That's it. That's the extent of the grand plan.
The drink diary is useful for some people, so that they can see the numbers dropping even if their progress is relatively slow. For others, it's a hassle which puts far too much emphasis on alcohol. It's probably a good idea to note your pre-TSM consumption and to check in with the numbers occasionally, but you don't necessarily have to write in a drink diary every day.
These extraneous steps may be useful in that they raise the barrier to entry. People who just drink too much, who aren't really addicted, may be turned off by the work which seems required. That's probably a good thing, but why are these people coming to TSM in the first place?
I think the answer is the "You can still drink!" line. People get the impression, largely from the book, that naltrexone is a "normality pill" and that they will become normal, non-addicted drinkers. Because it is so very easy to take a pill before drinking, lots of people try TSM who aren't really good candidates for it. When they realize that they won't get a buzz any more, they eliminate the buzz blocker.
Essentially, it's too easy. People who don't need it try it, and they bail out because it's working too well.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Disease vs. Choice -- Neither Is Correct
I was recently struck by part of this entry at Naltrexone Confidential:
Yeah. Some of the "it's a choice" folks are almost as militant as the Steppers.
I can see where they're coming from. Addiction isn't a disease. Nobody is literally born an addict. Some people think they were because they fastened on to alcohol immediately after discovering it, but that's not the same thing. The only way to develop an addiction is through practice. Even thought I sought alcohol with great determination almost as soon as I discovered it, that was an immature way of coping with pain rather than a true addiction. The true addiction came later, gradually, as I trained myself into alcohol-seeking behavior.
If addiction isn't a disease, then what is it? Some conclude that it must be a choice. Addicts must be choosing their addiction out of a misguided belief that it's their best option for happiness at that time. This fits some people's experience in that they either matured out of their addictions or stopped through willpower, but (again) it's not the whole story. I admire people who decide to ditch an addiction and plow through the cravings and deprivation effect by sheer willpower, but that doesn't mean everyone can do it. For people whose addictions have progressed far enough, changed lives and determination are often not enough.
Put simply, addiction is conditioned behavior. We humans are different from rats in many ways, but some things are universal, and that's one of them. Once we're conditioned to drink heavily on a regular basis, we'll keep doing it until something changes.
That something may be as simple as a realization that this life sucks and we'll do whatever's needed to change it. For most of us, it isn't.
You know how 6% of ex-smokers quit cold turkey and never go back? You know how the other 94% point out that they're lucky jerks, and the 6% keep insisting that anyone can do it since they did it themselves? It's sort of like that. Anyone who passes through youthful smoking and becomes a "real" smoker is likely to have great difficulty quitting. That doesn't mean that smoking is a disease, but it sure as heck isn't a simple preference, or even a considered choice for personal happiness.
Alcohol addiction is similar in some ways. No, it's not a disease. Yes, it's possible to quit just by knocking it off. That doesn't mean that everyone will be able to do it. Many won't.
For those people, the thoroughly conditioned who can't just knock it off because they've decided they want a better life, deconditioning is a rather obvious approach which is too often overlooked.
I’m talking specifically about the determinism vs. free will argument here - or, to simplify it, the “disease vs. choice debate” and The Sinclair Method’s place in it… hence why I’ve found myself being harangued by a number of different individuals about how I shouldn’t be “advocating pills” because alcoholism is just “a choice” and blah, blah, blah.
Yeah. Some of the "it's a choice" folks are almost as militant as the Steppers.
I can see where they're coming from. Addiction isn't a disease. Nobody is literally born an addict. Some people think they were because they fastened on to alcohol immediately after discovering it, but that's not the same thing. The only way to develop an addiction is through practice. Even thought I sought alcohol with great determination almost as soon as I discovered it, that was an immature way of coping with pain rather than a true addiction. The true addiction came later, gradually, as I trained myself into alcohol-seeking behavior.
If addiction isn't a disease, then what is it? Some conclude that it must be a choice. Addicts must be choosing their addiction out of a misguided belief that it's their best option for happiness at that time. This fits some people's experience in that they either matured out of their addictions or stopped through willpower, but (again) it's not the whole story. I admire people who decide to ditch an addiction and plow through the cravings and deprivation effect by sheer willpower, but that doesn't mean everyone can do it. For people whose addictions have progressed far enough, changed lives and determination are often not enough.
Put simply, addiction is conditioned behavior. We humans are different from rats in many ways, but some things are universal, and that's one of them. Once we're conditioned to drink heavily on a regular basis, we'll keep doing it until something changes.
That something may be as simple as a realization that this life sucks and we'll do whatever's needed to change it. For most of us, it isn't.
You know how 6% of ex-smokers quit cold turkey and never go back? You know how the other 94% point out that they're lucky jerks, and the 6% keep insisting that anyone can do it since they did it themselves? It's sort of like that. Anyone who passes through youthful smoking and becomes a "real" smoker is likely to have great difficulty quitting. That doesn't mean that smoking is a disease, but it sure as heck isn't a simple preference, or even a considered choice for personal happiness.
Alcohol addiction is similar in some ways. No, it's not a disease. Yes, it's possible to quit just by knocking it off. That doesn't mean that everyone will be able to do it. Many won't.
For those people, the thoroughly conditioned who can't just knock it off because they've decided they want a better life, deconditioning is a rather obvious approach which is too often overlooked.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Why We Drank: Old Wounds
While doing more thinking about the roots of addiction, I naturally did some research as well. One of the factors most commonly discussed is unresolved childhood issues. Certainly there's a strong correlation between abusive childhoods and addiction; that much is well established. However, there's no really good therapy for resolving unresolved issues from childhood and adolescence. Some say one thing helped and some say another thing helped, but those people are usually reporting from a time immediately after the therapy. There's a noticeable shortage of people saying that they used a given therapy ten years ago and have been more content ever since.
I do believe that some of us are wired differently from others in this respect. Some people seem to recover naturally, and they often don't understand those of us who don't. They offer advice like "let it go" and "the past is past" without understanding that it just doesn't work that way for some. It doesn't "go" despite our active attempts to drive it away, and our lives are not the past.
So -- we are all of our ages at once? That reminds me of the paradigm of the inner child.
While reading about these therapies, I noticed that many of them are about loving our inner child. We imagine cuddling our infant selves, whispering how we're so glad they're here and how we accept and love them exactly as they are, that they are unique and special and irreplaceable.
I tried this a couple of times, and found it to be just as silly and pointless as it sounded. I can't help thinking that taking this seriously sounds like a recipe for narcissism.
"Expects to be recognized as superior and special, without superior accomplishments."
"Expects constant attention, admiration and positive reinforcement from others."
Etc.
Hmm. Narcissism is a popular diagnosis these days. Maybe it's just the latest diagnostic fad, but is it possible that the massive self-acceptance and self-praise which became popular in the mid-80s led to an actual increase in narcissism? I think it might be.
I was one of many who were struck by an article pointing out that our accomplishments are much more important than simply existing. Slapping on generically positive labels like "nice" doesn't actually make us better people.
Reading the comments on that article is time-consuming but instructive. Those who took it to heart in 2012 found themselves with better and happier lives in 2013. Those who disagreed with it . . . no news. Not a single person reported that self-esteem enhancement, sans accomplishment, resulted in a better life.
This is really just common sense. We all know, in our heart of hearts, that chanting "I am unique and special" a thousand times has less impact than one single other person saying, "Wow, you are really something special." So how do we get them to say it? It's pointless to expect to be "recognized as superior and special, without superior accomplishments" a la narcissism. We have to do something which merits hearing it.
Your father shamed you, your mother belittled you, your schoolmates bullied you. So did mine. I'm not going to tell you to "let it go," because we both know that doesn't work. I am going to tell you that I, at least, feel a stronger sense of self-worth when I'm doing something to increase my worth than when I offer imaginary comfort to my wounded past self. Increasing my fluency in Spanish is better therapy than trying to convince myself that I am lovable no matter what.
I do believe that some of us are wired differently from others in this respect. Some people seem to recover naturally, and they often don't understand those of us who don't. They offer advice like "let it go" and "the past is past" without understanding that it just doesn't work that way for some. It doesn't "go" despite our active attempts to drive it away, and our lives are not the past.
So -- we are all of our ages at once? That reminds me of the paradigm of the inner child.
While reading about these therapies, I noticed that many of them are about loving our inner child. We imagine cuddling our infant selves, whispering how we're so glad they're here and how we accept and love them exactly as they are, that they are unique and special and irreplaceable.
I tried this a couple of times, and found it to be just as silly and pointless as it sounded. I can't help thinking that taking this seriously sounds like a recipe for narcissism.
"Expects to be recognized as superior and special, without superior accomplishments."
"Expects constant attention, admiration and positive reinforcement from others."
Etc.
Hmm. Narcissism is a popular diagnosis these days. Maybe it's just the latest diagnostic fad, but is it possible that the massive self-acceptance and self-praise which became popular in the mid-80s led to an actual increase in narcissism? I think it might be.
I was one of many who were struck by an article pointing out that our accomplishments are much more important than simply existing. Slapping on generically positive labels like "nice" doesn't actually make us better people.
Reading the comments on that article is time-consuming but instructive. Those who took it to heart in 2012 found themselves with better and happier lives in 2013. Those who disagreed with it . . . no news. Not a single person reported that self-esteem enhancement, sans accomplishment, resulted in a better life.
This is really just common sense. We all know, in our heart of hearts, that chanting "I am unique and special" a thousand times has less impact than one single other person saying, "Wow, you are really something special." So how do we get them to say it? It's pointless to expect to be "recognized as superior and special, without superior accomplishments" a la narcissism. We have to do something which merits hearing it.
Your father shamed you, your mother belittled you, your schoolmates bullied you. So did mine. I'm not going to tell you to "let it go," because we both know that doesn't work. I am going to tell you that I, at least, feel a stronger sense of self-worth when I'm doing something to increase my worth than when I offer imaginary comfort to my wounded past self. Increasing my fluency in Spanish is better therapy than trying to convince myself that I am lovable no matter what.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
"How Are You Doing? Want to Talk?"
Some people don't like the "cured" term. They'd rather use "in remission," or use a non-disease paradigm and go with "problem solved" or such. There are a lot of good arguments against "cured," but I have to call this state something, so I'll go with the c-word for now.
Many, many people don't understand what it means to be cured of an addiction. Perhaps they're used to the more dramatic paradigm of struggling with inner demons every day, and have trouble believing that those demons can simply be cured. Perhaps they've heard too much 12-Step stuff and are used to people being endlessly "in recovery" and never recovered. Perhaps they can't understand how a cure could exist without quickly becoming famous, or don't see how alcohol could be such a big part of our lives and then rather suddenly become unimportant.
One of these people, no doubt meaning well, may ask you if you want to talk about it. How are you doing? How's the recovery? How are you managing a post-addiction life? "Fine, done, and fine" is true, but doesn't seem to satisfy them. Explaining that you're truly cured and are no longer an addict may lead to a lot of fireworks if the person is accustomed to the model of endless one-day-at-a-time recovery, but may be the best way to go for the long term. The truth of your words will become evident as you keep living your life.
We cured folks generally just want to get on with our lives, not waste time wallowing in the past. I personally have to remind myself to come back to this blog -- I have other things I'd rather be doing. We should realize that this isn't how most people think of addiction, though. They've been trained to think that people must be "in a program" (as they say on TV) and fighting a bartending inner demon. It's worthwhile to take a few minutes to explain that the addiction is completely over and that there's really, truly nothing to discuss.
Many, many people don't understand what it means to be cured of an addiction. Perhaps they're used to the more dramatic paradigm of struggling with inner demons every day, and have trouble believing that those demons can simply be cured. Perhaps they've heard too much 12-Step stuff and are used to people being endlessly "in recovery" and never recovered. Perhaps they can't understand how a cure could exist without quickly becoming famous, or don't see how alcohol could be such a big part of our lives and then rather suddenly become unimportant.
One of these people, no doubt meaning well, may ask you if you want to talk about it. How are you doing? How's the recovery? How are you managing a post-addiction life? "Fine, done, and fine" is true, but doesn't seem to satisfy them. Explaining that you're truly cured and are no longer an addict may lead to a lot of fireworks if the person is accustomed to the model of endless one-day-at-a-time recovery, but may be the best way to go for the long term. The truth of your words will become evident as you keep living your life.
We cured folks generally just want to get on with our lives, not waste time wallowing in the past. I personally have to remind myself to come back to this blog -- I have other things I'd rather be doing. We should realize that this isn't how most people think of addiction, though. They've been trained to think that people must be "in a program" (as they say on TV) and fighting a bartending inner demon. It's worthwhile to take a few minutes to explain that the addiction is completely over and that there's really, truly nothing to discuss.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Alcohol Shovelers
I've had the misfortune of knowing multiple people whom I think of as "food pushers" or "food shovelers." These are folks who want other people to eat more and more and more.
They're not to be confused with people who inadvertently push food once in a while. I think some of those are honestly ignorant about varieties of normal food consumption. Consider a man on a date who's surprised that she "didn't eat very much" when in fact she ate a perfectly normal amount of food for a woman, or someone who offers a huge spread for lunch because her family ate dinner at noon, or a cultural difference where one person feels required to offer as long as the other accepts (while the other feels required to accept whatever the other offers, leading to mutual misery). The common thread is that at least one party truly doesn't know the norms of the other, so that they can differ without either being wrong.
Honest ignorance of others' norms will clear up with time, but some people never seem to get it cleared up. Indeed, some people plainly just don't care. I believe these people have some sort of problem.
They monitor you at dinner gatherings, demanding that you eat double helpings of every dish. When you have finished eating, they bellow repeated offers to hand you more food, any food, as long as you eat more. If you decline a second brownie they will offer it six more times, then ignore all your refusals to hand you the brownie plate with a knowing smile. They may even scoop food directly onto your plate, ignoring the fact that this is a gross violation of personal space. They aren't necessarily prodigious eaters themselves, but they are bound and determined that their target will consume huge quantities of food.
They drive me nuts.
I've long wondered about people who worry about how to explain that they no longer drink or no longer drink heavily. Why do they think that others will even notice? Don't they know how to decline? Why don't they just say that they're fine, thanks, and get on with the business at hand? Don't they know the common convention of saying that they're "fine" or "okay" to indicate that no further offers are needed?
As I've heard more stories from people using the Sinclair Method, I've come to understand that there really are people out there who closely monitor other people's alcohol consumption and press them -- sometimes quite hard -- to overdrink. I don't know if these people are alcohol addicts seeking company or are in the grip of some very strange notions about hosting or are just crazy. Alcohol shoveling makes no more sense to me than does food shoveling, but apparently it exists.
How to handle it? I know of no way to get these people to stop; the best we can do is to just manage the situation without being forced into overconsumption by them. Essentially, this means declining all verbal offers and ignoring forced food/drink completely. If someone offers you a beer twelve times, you decline twelve times. If he then holds a glass of beer out to you, you ignore the proffered glass and speak of something else. If he grabs your water cup, dumps out the water, and fills the cup with beer, you ignore the beer and get yourself a new cup of water.
There is no point in trying to reform these people. If you decline three times and then refuse to decline a fourth because the shoveler is being rude, your silence will be taken as consent and you'll end up with item X. If you give a reason, even an inarguable one like "I'm full," they will find a way to argue. Even if you get completely fed up and dump the unwanted item into the sink while repeating that you don't want it, they'll just hand you another portion along with some absurd reason why you should consume it.
These people are infuriating, but fortunately they're not very common. Most civilized human beings will accept "no, thanks" as answer either upon first hearing or after you've assured them that "I'm fine, thanks." The shovelers are . . . odd.
Even if you're facing a contingent of several of them, so that they seem to normalize each other, remember -- they're the ones with the problem, not you. You're not weird or rude for declining. They're weird and rude for insisting so forcefully.
They're not to be confused with people who inadvertently push food once in a while. I think some of those are honestly ignorant about varieties of normal food consumption. Consider a man on a date who's surprised that she "didn't eat very much" when in fact she ate a perfectly normal amount of food for a woman, or someone who offers a huge spread for lunch because her family ate dinner at noon, or a cultural difference where one person feels required to offer as long as the other accepts (while the other feels required to accept whatever the other offers, leading to mutual misery). The common thread is that at least one party truly doesn't know the norms of the other, so that they can differ without either being wrong.
Honest ignorance of others' norms will clear up with time, but some people never seem to get it cleared up. Indeed, some people plainly just don't care. I believe these people have some sort of problem.
They monitor you at dinner gatherings, demanding that you eat double helpings of every dish. When you have finished eating, they bellow repeated offers to hand you more food, any food, as long as you eat more. If you decline a second brownie they will offer it six more times, then ignore all your refusals to hand you the brownie plate with a knowing smile. They may even scoop food directly onto your plate, ignoring the fact that this is a gross violation of personal space. They aren't necessarily prodigious eaters themselves, but they are bound and determined that their target will consume huge quantities of food.
They drive me nuts.
I've long wondered about people who worry about how to explain that they no longer drink or no longer drink heavily. Why do they think that others will even notice? Don't they know how to decline? Why don't they just say that they're fine, thanks, and get on with the business at hand? Don't they know the common convention of saying that they're "fine" or "okay" to indicate that no further offers are needed?
As I've heard more stories from people using the Sinclair Method, I've come to understand that there really are people out there who closely monitor other people's alcohol consumption and press them -- sometimes quite hard -- to overdrink. I don't know if these people are alcohol addicts seeking company or are in the grip of some very strange notions about hosting or are just crazy. Alcohol shoveling makes no more sense to me than does food shoveling, but apparently it exists.
How to handle it? I know of no way to get these people to stop; the best we can do is to just manage the situation without being forced into overconsumption by them. Essentially, this means declining all verbal offers and ignoring forced food/drink completely. If someone offers you a beer twelve times, you decline twelve times. If he then holds a glass of beer out to you, you ignore the proffered glass and speak of something else. If he grabs your water cup, dumps out the water, and fills the cup with beer, you ignore the beer and get yourself a new cup of water.
There is no point in trying to reform these people. If you decline three times and then refuse to decline a fourth because the shoveler is being rude, your silence will be taken as consent and you'll end up with item X. If you give a reason, even an inarguable one like "I'm full," they will find a way to argue. Even if you get completely fed up and dump the unwanted item into the sink while repeating that you don't want it, they'll just hand you another portion along with some absurd reason why you should consume it.
These people are infuriating, but fortunately they're not very common. Most civilized human beings will accept "no, thanks" as answer either upon first hearing or after you've assured them that "I'm fine, thanks." The shovelers are . . . odd.
Even if you're facing a contingent of several of them, so that they seem to normalize each other, remember -- they're the ones with the problem, not you. You're not weird or rude for declining. They're weird and rude for insisting so forcefully.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)