Sunday, July 15, 2007

Addictions and Protections

I've never liked the term "addiction" because it implies moral weakness. At the same time as we pity "addicts" we dismiss them as inferior. We treat them like sinners on the brink of damnation. We keep a healthy distance so they don't take us with them.

None of this makes any sense to me, other than as an expression of a fear of ourselves. A fear of our weakness. A fear of our inadequacy. A fear of our capacity to commit heinous sins. We stay away from addicts to stay away from ourselves. To disavow the destructive parts of ourselves.

Rather than thinking in terms of addiction, I prefer to think in terms of protection. I see addictive behavior as a tool for survival. And I wonder what dangers it's designed to protect.

No one I know hasn't been wounded by childhood. If we're lucky, we find tools to deal with the pain. This makes us more aware of it and helps us to live with it. And it offers our wounds an opportunity to heal. If we're unlucky, we find tools to push the pain away. This makes us less aware of it and doesn't help us to live with it. And it keeps the wounds open so that they don't heal.

"Addictive" behavior is a tool to escape pain. I have seen many versions of this tool in my practice. They include drinking, drug taking, binging, purging, restricting, sex seeking, hair pulling, skin picking, and obsessional thinking. It doesn't really matter what version you use, though some versions are more harmful to your body than others. At the end of the day, the goal is the same: to push away the pain so that you can survive.

My working assumption when it comes to emotions is that we generally do the best we know how. If we drink, take drugs, binge, purge, or restrict, we do so because it seems like the best option. If another tool seemed better, we would choose it instead. But no other tool seems likely to compete.

This makes sense if you stop to consider. It's hard to believe that feeling your pain is the fastest and most effective way to reduce it. It's easier to believe that avoiding it is better. Hence, the logic of pushing it away.

In addition, we often choose our tool when we're wounded. Often, there is nobody there to consult. No one with whom we can talk about our feelings. No one to help us process the pain --of divorce, domestic violence, sexual abuse, academic failure, romantic betrayal, sexual confusion, loneliness, parental pressure, rape, and physical illness to name just a few.

However, many people eventually start to wonder whether there might be a more effective tool within reach. The tool they have used to avoid one kind of pain often ends up causing another kind of pain. They may have avoided the pain of abuse, but now they have to deal with the pain of cirrhosis. Moreover, there's the impact of all those buried feelings. Like the roots of a tree, they determine the blossom. Invariably they affect how we feel and what we do.

The good news is that there are lots of better tools. The only question is which is the right one for you. In my own life I've found two especially useful ones. The first is individual therapy. The second is astanga yoga. Group therapy, art therapy, dance therapy, yoga therapy, meditation, and the many 12 step programs are also good. Whatever brings you together with like-minded people in a supportive, compassionate, and therapeutic environment. If this is too much, start writing your feelings. This will help deepen your relationship with yourself. These are the most effective tools I've discovered. They are the best way to deal with the pain that can keep you from blossoming into the best version of yourself.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I started therapy after reading this post. It gave me a new perspective on how I dealt with pain....or did not deal with it. Yoga is not my thing but therapy sounded like a good "tool"

Since starting therapy though it feels like all I can think about is my therapist. It isn't like I am falling in love with him it is more like he feels like a parent and I get that it is probably transference and maybe thinking of him and how I would like him to react and how I would like him to see me is probably another way to avoid what I am feeling but I am not sure what to do. I cannot imagine telling him about it because it it is so embarrassing and I don't want him to feel like I am obsessed with him and talking about seems impossible anyhow. I don't just want to stop therapy, in part because I can't imagnie not seeing him, but also because I think it helps....

Any thoughts? And thank you for this blog I have never thought about my "addictions" as tools....it makes me hate myself a bit less

Dr Raphael Gunner said...

It's common for patients to have all kinds of feelings about their therapists -- some very positive and some very negative. This makes sense given the delicacy of the information disclosed.

What we feel about our therapist is often consistent with what we feel about other important people in our life. Especially those with whom we share intimate information. Before whom we feel vulnerable. Whose acceptance we seek.

As a result, discussing our feelings about our therapist in therapy can not only help us understand that relationship. It can also help us understand these other relationships by giving us a chance to notice what we feel, to think about what it means, and to decide how to act on the basis of our discoveries.

In essence, therapy allows us to practice relating -- in a safe setting, with a professional, where the goal is to learn.

For this reason, I encourage you to share your feelings with your therapist. Hopefully, it will deepen the experience you both enjoy.

Anonymous said...

But isn't it awkward to have a patient that feels like they are in love with you or cannot stop thinking about you. It seems like it waould be awkward and uncomfortable all around.

Dr Raphael Gunner said...

One of the goals of therapy is to develop the capacity to tolerate difficult feelings. I don't know if your therapist will in fact feel uncomfortable. But if he does, he will hopefully be able to think about his discomfort, and he will hopefully be able to help you think about yours. This is psychotherapy at its very best: a place where we learn to take advantage of our emotional discomfort to gain insight into our feelings, to think with greater clarity, and to act with more awareness.