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Issue 33 | November 30, 2011 |
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You can not fight against the future.
--W. E. Gladstone
The experiences that will come to us today and tomorrow are opportunities to know ourselves better. With willingness we will begin to perceive God's hand in even the smallest events in our life. We will grow in our acceptance that all of our life circumstances are specifically given to us by a Higher Power who wants us to be all that we can. We'll never be given more than we can handle. However, we can be certain that many experiences will push us to grow in directions we never dreamed possible.
How lucky that we have a Higher Power who pushes. Otherwise, most of us would live far less productive, creative lives. It's not likely that any of us envisioned our current circumstances. God's will for us is far more real and possible, one step at a time, One Day at a Time, than anything we'd imagined.
God has my future well in hand. All I need is the willingness to follow God's guidance.
--from In God's Care: Daily Meditations on Spirituality in Recovery this |
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| Ask the Expert |
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As more and more young people use video games and the Internet to isolate themselves from friends, family, school, and jobs, the connections between substance addiction, cyber addiction, and other compulsive behaviors become clear. Kevin Roberts, a recovering video game addict, explains the nature of cyber addiction and gaming addiction.
The Western world is in the midst of a cultural shift. Electronics and the Internet have transformed the way we live. Just a decade or so ago, devices such as computers, cell phones, and iPods were relative luxuries that made our lives easier or entertained us. For most people, these items are now nearly indispensable in both their work and their personal lives. The Internet and video gaming, likewise, are no longer used primarily for research or for occasional amusements. More and more, they are our main source of recreation.
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| Story of Hope |
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 After the death of his mother, author and journalist Tom Davis began to unravel the mysteries of her troubled life and of four generations of addiction, mental illness, and suicide. He begins the process of recovering his family in this excerpt from his memoir A Legacy of Madness.
A century ago, the symptoms of mental illnesses such as schizophrenia and multiple-personality disorders, among others, were well-known. But there was a dearth of treatment options that could have saved the millions who suffered. Many people with mental illness were locked away in psychiatric hospitals--or facilities commonly known as "asylums"--and treated in decrepit, inhumane conditions.
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| Spirituality |
 In Playing It by Heart, best-selling author Melody Beattie uses short stories and personal anecdotes to demonstrate ways in which codependents can find opportunities for growth on their path of recovery. In this excerpt, Beattie tells a story concerning destiny, life and death, and changing relationships. Behavior
The first story I want to tell you concerns the day my destiny bracelet broke and what that meant to me. And what it might mean to you.
I was standing in one of those do-it-yourself car-wash stalls in Espanola, New Mexico. I was watching Scotty, or what was left of Scotty, as he valiantly and dutifully washed my car, a burgundy Infinity four-wheel drive, rearranged the contents of the back for at least the twelfth time in the three days we had been together, then vacuumed the seats and floor mats.
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| Sober24 News |
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Throughout the month of December, the Sober24 Book Club will be taking a break for the holidays. It's a great opportunity to go back and read archived blogs, watch videos, and sample excerpts from our featured authors of 2011. In addition, check out the new featured excerpts in the Our Stories, Recovery Tools, and My Journal sections of the site. In January, author Karen Casey's book My Story to Yours, will be featured in the Book Club.
Go to sober24.com to learn more about the Book Club.
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| To purchase these and other products designed to enhance your recovery and personal growth, visit hazelden.org/bookstore or call 800-328-9000. |
As more and more young people use video games and the Internet to isolate themselves from friends, family, school, and jobs, the connections between substance addiction, cyber addiction, and other compulsive behaviors become clear. Kevin Roberts, a recovering video game addict, explains the nature of cyber addiction and gaming addiction.
The Western world is in the midst of a cultural shift. Electronics and the Internet have transformed the way we live. Just a decade or so ago, devices such as computers, cell phones, and iPods were relative luxuries that made our lives easier or entertained us. For most people, these items are now nearly indispensable in both their work and their personal lives. The Internet and video gaming, likewise, are no longer used primarily for research or for occasional amusements. More and more, they are our main source of recreation.
For many people, video and computer games and other forms of digital technology are harmless. They offer convenience or a way to relax or have fun with friends and family members. Unfortunately, all of these devices also carry the potential to become addictive.
Users or players sometimes become compulsive in their use of these technologies. They may game excessively, turning away from family, friends, and the other activities they once enjoyed. Or they may become ensnared in social networking to such an extent that their forays into the cyber world become substitutes for real human contact. Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, online chat engines, and simply surfing for information can turn into all encompassing obsessions. Relationships, health, and jobs may all suffer as a result--and yet the behavior continues. Though users may be highly intelligent and creative, they turn their backs on reality, absorbed in a world of imagination and fantasy. I used to be one of these people.
Video games and many Internet activities have taken their toll on my mental, physical, and spiritual health. Excessive playing and Internet usage have given me carpal tunnel syndrome and persistent back pain. They are the primary factor in missed appointments and have even cost me jobs, not to mention a whole lot of money. They have been a significant barrier that has gotten in the way of friendships and relationships. I have chosen video games over virtually everything and everyone close to me. I would chat all night online with "friends" all over the world instead of going out with friends in the here and now. For much of my adult life, video games, and then later the Internet, assumed a place in the forefront, inexplicably drawing me away from social outings, dinners with friends, and even time with my family.
Video games and the Internet are not the problem, however. I am the problem. I do not blame these industries. I blame myself. I loathed myself in those moments when I would finally emerge from a video game flurry. In those times of reflection, I would wonder how I could possibly have been so weak as to fall under the gaming spell once again. The disgust would rise up within me, and I would swear to myself that I had learned my lesson. I would rid the house of all games. I would resolve to quit chatting online. But eventually, the urge would resurface and overpower my best intentions. There's no other way to describe it: I was a video game addict, a cyber junkie.
Today, I am proud to be in recovery. I wasted years of my life staring into a computer screen, failing to achieve the goals I had set for myself. Although I felt pangs of guilt and sadness after gaming binges that lasted for weeks, it was not enough guilt to get me to stop. I hid my gaming from everyone for almost ten years and was in denial that I even had a problem. In 2003, I finally hit bottom and realized my life was out of control. I needed to make a change.
My road to recovery was long and hard, and I repeatedly relapsed into gaming. Playing video games heightened my senses, making me feel totally alive, while Internet chatting with friends around the world allowed me to unplug from the difficulties of my real-world relationships. It is not surprising that I suffered for years with cravings. Sometimes, they still haunt me. Through therapy, friends, and support groups, I have managed to stave off the cravings and stick to my recovery plan.
A few years into my recovery, I began working to help others learn how to escape from the claws of gaming and Internet obsessions. I befriended fellow cyber addicts and tried to offer the kind of support that my friends had offered me. My assistance was informal at first, but slowly I began to organize and facilitate support groups for cyber addicts. Today I run numerous such groups for people whose lives have been swallowed up by their insatiable urge to game, surf, and chat online. These groups offer the support addicted individuals need to turn away from compulsive behavior within the cyber world, which empowers them to channel their energies in positive directions.
This book grew out of my journey through cyber addiction. Throughout the book, I recount my personal experience, describing how an innocent pastime turned into fifty-hour gaming binges and all-night online chatting, and how I found a new focus for my life that did not involve these obsessive activities. I also share stories about people I have helped professionally. The experiences described in the book are real, though names and identifying information have been changed to protect privacy. In a few instances, I have combined stories to form composite characters.
Although I have vast personal experience with a variety of games and Internet activities, I needed to augment my understanding through research. To this end, I visited gaming forums and talked with players from around the world. In addition, I delved deeper into Facebook, MySpace, and other such networking sites, and I studied professional literature on the science of compulsive behaviors and addiction.
This is a book for anyone affected by overuse of the Internet, video games, or other electronic devices. The problem may be your own and you're struggling to understand why this is an issue for you and how to solve it. Or the problem may be with someone you love, a partner or child perhaps. That person may realize his or her activity is a problem; on the other hand, the person may not give a second thought to how much time and energy he or she is spending online and/or gaming. Cyber addiction is a new phenomenon, and thus, the research on the topic is limited but growing.
Excerpted from Cyber Junkie by Kevin Roberts. Roberts is a recovering video game addict who offers help through support groups to assist others struggling with cyber addiction in getting their lives back on track. He is a nationally recognized expert on video gaming addiction and a regular conference speaker. Cyber Junkie is his first book.
Cyber Junkie
Softcover, 204 pages
Recovering video game addict Kevin Roberts offers a step-by-step guide to recovery for those struggling with compulsive video gaming and Internet surfing.
Video gaming and Internet surfing are the top sources of entertainment for tens of millions of North Americans today. As these technologies continue to grow and flourish, so does the number of people becoming obsessively absorbed in the imagination and fantasy that they present. More and more people are isolating themselves, turning their backs on reality, ignoring family and friends, and losing their sleep and even their jobs due to excessive use of video games and the Internet--and they continue to do so despite harmful consequences to their mental, physical, and spiritual health, a telltale sign of addiction.
In this groundbreaking book, Roberts uses extensive scientific and social research, complemented by his and others' personal stories, to give compulsive gamers and surfers--and their family and friends--a step-by-step guide for recovery. He outlines the ways that "cyber junkies" exhibit the classic signs of addiction and reveals how they can successfully recover by following a program similar to those used for other addictions. Readers learn to identify whether they have an addiction, find the right resources to get individualized help, and regain a rewarding life away from the screen by learning new thoughts and behaviors that free them from the cravings that rule their lives. Included is a guide for parents for working with their addicted children.
List Price: $14.95
Online Price: $13.45
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After the death of his mother, author and journalist Tom Davis began to unravel the mysteries of her troubled life and of four generations of addiction, mental illness, and suicide. He begins the process of recovering his family in this excerpt from his memoir A Legacy of Madness.
A century ago, the symptoms of mental illnesses such as schizophrenia and multiple-personality disorders, among others, were well-known. But there was a dearth of treatment options that could have saved the millions who suffered. Many people with mental illness were locked away in psychiatric hospitals--or facilities commonly known as "asylums"--and treated in decrepit, inhumane conditions.
At the time, on October 4, 1928, my great-great-grandmother, Lydia Winans, and her son, Frederick, ended their long, yet troubled lives by flipping on the gas jets of their kitchen oven and suffocating themselves. Five years later, Lydia's other son, Edward, did the same thing, taking painstaking care to make sure that he was more successful in death than he was in life. They found a way out because there was no way back in, since their only alternative was evaluation, medication, and then a world of confinement or mistreatment.
All three were believed to have suffered from symptoms that would eventually be identified as obsessive-compulsive disorder or neurosis: perfectionism, low self-esteem, depression, and fear. None of them were ever diagnosed, because all of them likely feared the consequences.
In the 1950s and 1960s, psychotropic drugs that could have alleviated my family's symptoms of mental illness became more prevalent. My grandfather, Richard, who was Edward's son, saw many of these advances while serving as personnel director at Greystone Park Psychiatric Hospital in Morris Plains, New Jersey. Ironically, he was a sufferer himself; some say he took the job because he saw much of the same sickness in the patients that he saw in his family--and maybe even in himself.
Instead of seeking treatment, however, Richard, who was known as Dick, chose the path of his ancestors, using alcohol to suppress his own symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD)--particularly his perfectionism and fear of germs--that would eventually overwhelm him too.
As my mother Dede battled postpartum depression in the late 1960s, she became an alcoholic, and her fear of germs became much more pronounced after her third pregnancy. She was the first member of my family to be treated for mental illness; as a result, she was the first to be diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Like her father Dick, she was ultimately overwhelmed by those symptoms. She died in 2003, decrepit physically and emotionally, never having fully recovered after two long stints in Ancora Psychiatric Hospital near Camden, New Jersey.
As my mother's condition steadily deteriorated, my brother and I suffered from anorexia and bulimia, and I have been diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder. I have, at times, found myself heading down a familiar destructive path, and I've sought assistance through counseling, psychiatric treatment, and medication.
But I feel like I'm on the back end of a long, perilous ride that came to a head on January 18, 2003, the day my sister found my mother dead.
I never feel safe.
Even after generations of my family suffered, and died largely because of their inflictions, my family had very little contact with mental health professionals, and we read very little material that could have guided us as we battled the symptoms of mental illness. We knew my mother's repeated hand washing, her fear of germs, and her stubborn possessiveness were signs of neurosis. I knew my tendency to force myself to vomit as a way to relieve stress and fear didn't seem right. But we followed the path of self-destruction rather than treatment, largely because we chose the path of ignorance and fear. Treatment and the unknown, downright scary consequences of it were, as many say, a fate worse than death.
We knew that many of the same problems that existed when my grandfather was personnel director at Greystone, from 1949 to 1979, remained. Housing at mental health facilities was still overcrowded. Treatment options and insurance coverage to pay for them were lacking. Psychiatric facilities that took insurance, and provided what could be considered the right level of care, were scarce.
Perhaps most important, the stigma of diagnosis has been, and still is, the kind of thing that could destroy a reputation, kill a career, and ruin a life.
Since I was a child, I've often wondered why I am so imperfect, why my mother wasn't a so-called "typical" mother, and why my father was so stressed about it. I had the belief that other people didn't experience the same issues. I'd see people participate in sports or Cub Scouts and they just seemed too perfect. To me, they always seemed to have "perfect" clothing, to be "perfectly" groomed, and to be "perfectly" mannered. My family was jealous, because we knew we'd never be like them.
Now, as a parent, I've come to understand that the so-called perfect people are often more imperfect, more ignorant, and more helpless than I had ever imagined. Standing on a playground for an hour and talking with parents whose children play with your children can lead to some interesting revelations. You find out things about others that are surprising, if not shocking.
I still encounter people who don't fit the image of people who are suffering through mental illness. But, once I get to know them, I ultimately learn that they're experiencing some sort of dysfunction that is very familiar to me, and they're suffering through the same sort of crises.
In fact, as a person who won a Rosalynn Carter Mental Health Journalism Fellowship and has written extensively on mental illness in families, I'm viewed as sort of a sage on the subject--particularly since my mother died and I sought ways to learn more about why we are what we are. What I tell my friends is perhaps the first lesson I learned after my mother's death:
Knowledge is power.
I write to the people who feel powerless because of their inability to understand or help others suffering from mental illness. I want to connect to the compassion people have for others who are suffering. Those who are dealing with mental disorders may be people in the reader's family or someone they know.
They're definitely in my family.
Excerpted from A Legacy of Madness by Tom Davis. Davis is the Jersey Shore regional editor for Patch.com and an adjunct professor of journalism at Rutgers University. This is his first book. He lives in New Jersey.
A Legacy of Madness
Softcover, 288 pages
The story of a loving family coming to grips with its own fragilities, A Legacy of Madness relates the author's journey to uncover, and ultimately understand, the history of mental illness that led generations of his suburban American family to their demise.
Dede Winans Davis had worried, fussed, and obsessed for the last time. Her heart stopped beating in a fit of anxiety. In the wake of his mother's death, Tom Davis knew one thing: Helplessly self-absorbed and severely obsessive-compulsive, Dede led a tormented life. She spent years bouncing around mental health facilities, nursing homes, and assisted-living facilities, but what really caused her death?
A Legacy of Madness portrays Tom Davis's captivating discoveries of mental illness throughout generations of his family. Investigating his mother's history led to that of Davis's grandfather, a top administrator at one of the largest psychiatric hospitals in the country; his great-grandfather who died of self-inflicted gas asphyxiation during the Depression; and his great-great-grandmother who, with her eldest son, completed suicide one tragic day. Ultimately, four generations of family members showed clear signs of depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and alcoholism--often mistreated illnesses that test one's ability to cope.
Through this intimate memoir, we join Davis on a personal odyssey to ensure that he and his siblings--the fifth generation--recover their family legacy by not only surviving their own mental health disorders but by getting the help they need to lead healthy, balanced lives. In the end, we witness Davis's powerful transition as he makes peace with the past and heals through forgiveness and compassion for his family--and himself.
List Price: $14.95
Online Price: $13.45
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In Playing It by Heart, best-selling author Melody Beattie uses short stories and personal anecdotes to demonstrate ways in which codependents can find opportunities for growth on their path of recovery. In this excerpt, Beattie tells a story of destiny, changing relationships, and accepting life as it happens.
A Date with Destiny
The first story I want to tell you concerns the day my destiny bracelet broke and what that meant to me. And what it might mean to you.
I was standing in one of those do-it-yourself car-wash stalls in Espanola, New Mexico. I was watching Scotty, or what was left of Scotty, as he valiantly and dutifully washed my car, a burgundy Infinity four-wheel drive, rearranged the contents of the back for at least the twelfth time in the three days we had been together, then vacuumed the seats and floor mats.
Espanola is a town of about eighty-three hundred people, and it is situated about ten miles west of Chimayo, New Mexico, which is about twenty-five miles northwest of Santa Fe. About twenty-seven hundred people live in Chimayo, a small town that contains a church, the Santuario de Chimayo, that is renowned throughout the world for its healing powers. It's also called the Lourdes of America, and I often go there when I need to connect with spiritual power. Scotty had joined me there, and his presence had been as sudden, as unexpected and yet natural, as it had been throughout the twenty-five year course of our on-again, off-again relationship.
I had suggested we drive through one of those car washes that does everything for you, but Scotty said no, pull in here. In the past, I would have argued with him.
"That's codependent," I used to say. "You don't have to do it the hard way."
"Everything's not codependent," he would answer. "You use that word to describe me when it doesn't describe why I'm doing what I'm doing. I like to wash the car and keep it organized and in order. It's a male thing, and I feel good about myself when I do it that way."
We had had that argument so many times that we didn't need to have it again. I just ran it through my head and kept quiet. I was having another argument with myself, anyway. I felt so guilty watching him work, pushing his frail body around as he washed, sorted, and vacuumed. I knew that every step he took, each time he used a muscle, it took all his reserve and concentration. If he insisted on us doing it ourselves, at least he could sit quietly and let me do the work. Melody, be quiet, I hushed myself. You know how important it is to him to feel needed and useful. Let him have his dignity. And cleaning the car right now, doing that for you, is giving him dignity and purpose.
It was so easy not to need anyone for anything--to just shut down and do it myself. Instead of saying anything, I deliberately clamped my mouth shut.
That's when I looked down and noticed my destiny bracelet was gone.
I felt its absence from my left wrist.
A rush of fear, like a gust of wind, rose from my belly into my throat.
My right hand involuntarily touched the spot where the bracelet had been. I didn't want it to be gone, didn't like it that it was gone. I had been wearing it for nine months now, and it had made a place on my body. Scotty was engrossed in vacuuming the driver's side of the car. I walked from the passenger door, which was open, to the rear of the car.
There on the oil-spotted cement ground, in the city of Espanola, lay the tiny yellow and jade-green translucent beads. Some of them were still threaded on the thin white string. The rest were spattered around.
I started to bend down, then remembered the words of the Babalawo. "If it breaks, leave the beads where they fall," he had said, as he tied the strand around my wrist. "Don't touch them. Don't pick them up. Just walk away.
"Don't forget to duck," he added. "When the bracelet breaks, it means death is near. But it also means you're protected. It's done its job."
I walked around to where Scotty was standing and showed him my wrist.
"My destiny bracelet broke," I said. "I'm a little nervous. I don't know what that means." I paused. "If anything."
That had become our standing joke, one that kept us from making too much out of incidents before we understood what they meant. It stopped us from obsessing about understanding what we were learning before it was time to know, before the lesson became clear. It kept us out of our heads--a favorite place for both of us--and into the experience.
He finished the task he had set to, then turned his frail body to me. "Maybe it means it's time to get a new bracelet," he said.
"Or a new destiny," I added, under my breath.
Scotty handed me a rag, motioning for me to get inside the car and begin wiping. I got in the car and started working on the window, glad to have something to do. I didn't want to start crying again, which I had been doing for three days every time I looked at Scotty, really looked at him, and stayed open to what I saw and felt.
Scotty stood watching me try to clean the inside windows for a while. The more I wiped, the more they streaked. Finally, he took the cloth from me. "When you use this kind of cloth, you have to dampen it first, otherwise it won't work," he said. "That's one of the rules." He started to walk away, then turned back. "But then, like you say, there are no rules."
"I didn't say that," I said.
"Yes. You did," he said.
I remembered that conversation too. It was more of an ongoing argument that had begun between us when he came back into my life about a year after my son Shane had died. Scotty kept insisting there were rules. I interpreted that, as I had most of my life, to mean a strict code of right and wrong--a rigid, stifling course of conduct that no human could adhere to. I said I couldn't function when I judged myself that way. It kept me in a perpetual state of hating myself.
"There are no rules," I'd insist, "only lessons."
"Yes there are rules," he'd say. Now I understood. He was talking about how this world worked, talking about the universal laws, the ancient codes. I didn't know what I was learning back then when he made his grand reentrance into my life. It had taken me eight long years to begin to understand. He was teaching me those laws.
Scotty was saving my life too. I had quit, given up, shut down at that deep, almost impenetrable level that people sometimes reach.
Scotty had brought me back to life. Resuscitated me. Then through our discussions, our times at the beach, at the mountains, in the desert he had breathed new life into me. Even fighting in the car--and being trapped in the car with him for a cross-country trip was a hellish experience--had been part of my revival.
"You like fighting with me," he'd say. "I'm the only one who has the guts to do it with you. And it makes you feel alive. It makes you feel."
He was right.
He had been my friend, my lover, and my spiritual teacher.
And now, he was deteriorating.
I couldn't do anything about it except watch, listen, and let him wash the car himself, if that's what he wanted to do.
Excerpted from Playing It by Heart by Melody Beattie. In her many best-selling books, including Stop Being Mean to Yourself, Codependent No More, and The Language of Letting Go, Beattie draws on the wisdom of Twelve Step healing, Christianity, and Eastern religions. She lives in Malibu, California.
Playing It by Heart
Softcover, 272 pages
Beattie understands being overboard, which helps her throw best-selling lifelines to those still adrift.
--TIME
Since the publication of Melody Beattie's groundbreaking book Codependent No More, millions of people have confronted the demons of codependency. And yet, many in recovery find themselves slipping back into the old ways that brought them such grief.
In her book Playing It by Heart, Beattie helps readers understand what drives them back into the grasp of controlling behavior and victimhood--and what it takes to pull themselves out, to return to the healing, faith, and maturity that come with a commitment to recovery.
Personal essays, inspiring anecdotes, and prescriptive reminders show readers how to stop acting out their painful obsessions. Marked by compassion and keen insight, Playing It by Heart explores the author's most intense personal lessons and shows readers that, despite setbacks, recovery is a lifelong opportunity for spiritual growth.
List Price: $15.95
Online Price: $14.35
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©2011 Hazelden Foundation
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