Should you stop or reduce your habit?

When it comes to addictive behaviors, there’s always the question: Should you be abstinent or seek moderation?

Assuming that you have no overriding concerns one way or another, which isn’t necessarily true, I’d say this is a matter of using your best judgment about what’s going to work, asking what you want out of life, and using trial and error to see if your plan is really working for you.

Sometimes there are overriding concerns in favor of abstinence:

  • You spend a lot of money on your addiction and you’re going into debt
  • Your partner is being impacted by it and has seen your attempts to moderate fail before and wants you to abstain

or in favor of moderation:

  • You’re addicted to the entire internet and need it for work/school
  • You’re addicted to social media but you can’t participate in your social group in-person without getting invites on Facebook, or you need it for organizing your own events or for activism you participate in as part of your major life values

In these cases you do still literally have a choice, but you might want to talk yourself out of doing the thing that’s likely to result in harmful results and into doing the thing that’s consistent with your life values and your life working out.

There’s a lot of cultural messages that either favor abstinence (we want to be tough on addiction! We say once an addict, always an addict!) or that dismiss the seriousness of either all or certain addictions and say you “should” be in control of your life, and thus favor moderation by default in failing to support abstinence.

I’m a fan of DBT (dialectical behavior therapy), but I think the worksheets I have from it on addiction fall on their face by presenting both an extremely wide view of what qualifies as addiction, and demanding total abstinence from any addiction. I think a more dialectical perspective would understand moderation and abstinence as being compatible though opposite forces.

If you like me have trouble understanding/remembering what dialectical means, I think of two sticks that are leaning into each other to form a triangle. They’re pushing in opposite directions, but because rather than in spite of this, they create a stable structure.

Abstinence and moderation are kind of like that: At any given time, you can only be doing one, and people see them as opposing, even to the point where folks might want to glorify one and devalue the other. But in reality they’re two options on a menu, and the fact that they’re both there make each one stronger–if moderation isn’t working out, you can try abstinence, and vice versa.

And even if you’re trying one as your overall approach, there’s times when you’ll need the skills of the other–e.g. if you’re abstinent from fanfic, at some point you’re going to hear people talking about fandom or go to a movie that fans those flames in you. You may not have technically relapsed into fanfic, but your mind’s already there, and you may be taking steps into the fandom. If you only know abstinence as an approach, it might be an all-or-nothing kind of thing–you might not know how to healthily moderate your response and let go without either relapsing or panicking and falling into a self-shame spiral or some other harmful addiction substitute. If you know moderation skills, you can just notice that things are getting out of hand, accept your cravings, but disengage and let them die anyway. And of course if you’re trying moderation there’s going to be times in your life–e.g. when you have an important time-critical responsibility–where you have to abstain, even for longer than you’re used to.

Similarly, it’s important to understand both what something is doing in your life that’s good, that’s why you seek it out, and what it’s doing in your life that are harmful, that’s why you want to stop it. Taking an abstinence-only view can dismiss all the good impacts, which often dooms you to fail at abstinence, since you won’t know how to fill those holes; taking a continued-use-only perspective can mean overlooking how harmful or addicting it really is, which similarly likely dooms your continued use to be harmful enough that it’s unsustainable as well.

Some insights from motivational interviewing–you have it in you already :)

When I started this blog, I was taking a didactic tact that was all I knew–I’m recovered (mostly), so I’m an expert, you’re not, so you must need to be told what to do to recover. Since then, I’ve started reading Motivational Interviewing, 3rd Ed. by Miller & Rollnick. They’ve got me pretty convinced that the lecturing mode isn’t only not helpful, but often actively harmful. It’s not possible to do motivational interviewing via a blog–that involves an in-person conversation with a lot of open questions and personalized affirmations–but I want to go forward influenced by its insights.

Here’s an example quote from the book (pg. 30):

We found early on (to our initial surprise) that once people had been through the evoking and planning processes of MI they were often content to proceed with change on their own and did so. The hump for them was really deciding to make the change, and having done so they often felt no need for additional help. In two early studies we anticipated that MI would trigger help seeking for alcohol problems, and we provided a menu of local treatment resources. Almost no one sought treatment, but most made substantial and lasting reductions in their drinking (Miller, Benefield, & Tonigan, 1993; Miller, Sovereign, & Krege, 1988).

When they say “evoking and planning processes”, the “evoking” is just a conversation (or series of conversations) with a trained practitioner who gets the person to talk about their own reasons to change, abilities/traits/resources that make them able to change, and commitment to change. The “planning” process is the next step from there, when the practitioner asks if the person is ready to make a plan for change and talks the person through making their own change plan. The idea is that you’re an expert on yourself and you’re the one who has to change, so no one else can tell you how to do it, and attempting to do so is likely to trigger an opposite reaction anyway.

You might be sitting there thinking, “If I had it in me I’d have done it already,” or feeling a rising tide of despair that you’re not as good as these people who stopped drinking after making a plan to do so and now there’s really no hope for you. That’s not true–it’s not like the trained, experienced motivational interviewing practitioners are doing nothing: They’re guides lighting the way and helping the person they work with gain their footing on the path of that person’s choice.

MI deals a lot with the problem of ambivalence, which I often characterize in perhaps more alarming terms as splitting or dissociation. This is just the normal state of being of two (or more) minds about something. In MI this is seen as a positive part of change–to be ambivalent is progress over not wanting to change at all. If you’re engaging in addictive behavior, it’s because you want to or feel you need to, on the one hand, and if you recognize it as addiction, it’s because you want to stop, on the other hand. The “evoking” process is all about help resolving that ambivalence (or at least strengthening the pro-change side) on your own timeline and terms.

On not eating

Back when I was struggling really deeply with my fanfic addiction (this was a 2-year period where being addicted to fanfic seemed like the largest component of my life), part of my narrative about what fanfic was doing to me was putting me into this vortex where I wouldn’t walk to the grocery store, cook, and eat food because I couldn’t stop reading, which put me into a vortex where I became weaker and it would be harder and more intimidating to have to carry all those groceries back home, so I’d put off going to the grocery more, so I’d subsist on bisquick ordered from Amazon and cliff bars, bananas, oreos, and peanuts from the gas station by my college for periods of time.

Well, it turns out that I have basically none of the life problems I had then but I still struggle to eat properly. Eating perfectly was neither prerequisite for recovering from that addiction and general misery, nor was it guaranteed by recovery, and recovery itself didn’t mean that I stopped all dysfunctional behavior, just that I started doing/pursuing the things that were missing from my life, and stopped making a huge deal out of everything that did go wrong.

One of the problems with being socially isolated is that you don’t realize how common all your problems are–I still remember the person I was dating who, about 3 years after I got out of the worst of my fanfic use, told me, “Feeding yourself is hard. A lot of people struggle with it,” when I was beating myself up and fretting about not getting enough food.

And it’s a real thing–how much time in the history of our species, in the history of animal life in general, has been spent just on getting food for ourselves? I know it’s supposed to be easier in today’s world, at least in the rich parts, but somehow we’ve added a lot more complexity to our routines that can marginalize the most essential parts.

So, my advice for anyone beating themself up over reading fanfic or doing other addictive behavior so much they don’t eat is to realize that, yeah, eating is important and it’s concerning that they’re so caught up in this habit that they forget the basics like that, but also, forgetting to eat or not planning ahead with groceries or feeling lethargic and not cooking or whatever it is–all that is a common struggle among large groups of people, particularly people who are any or some combination of single, young, and struggling with mental health in any way.

Today I didn’t eat enough because I was reading nonfiction books and had told myself throughout the week that I didn’t need to buy groceries (despite not having adequate food at home), and ended up feeling hangry and lonely and a little lost by sundown. But when I messaged a new-ish friend about this, someone I haven’t been as vulnerable with before, her immediate response wasn’t judgment, but rather telling me that she does that too sometimes. She offered to text me to remind me to eat and said she has friends who do that for her. Like with the date who told me that eating is hard, this kind of social reflection can help problems feel less overwhelming.

I’m also pretty positive-feeling since discovering DBT (after working on ACT skills for a while so I’m more open to possibility), because it’s empowered me to understand that I can find ways to reconfigure my life so this stuff happens less often. I’ve been successfully working on my longstanding problem of focusing at work lately, and I think the same intent to understand how the problem is happening and find alternatives, and just keep persevering, will allow me to tackle other problems like physical self-care. So I’m using this experience to try to fix in my mind both how much I need to eat, and the consequences of not eating, the consequences of shrugging off a thought about buying groceries when I’m in a place where it’s convenient to do so, and how my idea of a “relaxing Saturday with no plans” actually backfires when I don’t choose an activity I actually find relaxing instead of re-stressing.

Fanfic/fandom and unhealthy mental frames

If we’re deep into fanfic and/or fandom, it’s filling some sort of need for us. Usually it’s a fantasy we can escape into–which raises the question, what are you escaping to and what are you escaping from?

We all can  distinguish between reality and fanfic, I’m not trying to be insulting here, but I think we often unconsciously do have some sort of bias toward treating the fantasies we are most deeply seeped in as reality. They form a lens that changes how we view the world.

Some possible underlying viewpoints I can think of:

  • Everyday epic. I just realized I suffer from this–as someone who grew up reading epic fantasy novels, then moved on to epic fantasy webcomics in high school, then epic fantasy fanfics in college, I still, years later, see a lot of things in terms of the physically violent struggles, individualistic heroes, and huge-scale political stakes of epic fantasy. I dramatize and mythologize about everyday life, and it’s taken years for me to be able to see things through a more “ordinary” perspective to see where the metaphors and life-lessons-learned-from-wise-old-fictional-mentors I was applying to real-life situations sometimes fall down.
  • Idealized friendship. When I moved from wishing I had a close-knit circle of friends like the ones in the media I consumed in part to make up for loneliness by giving my brain that hit of portrayed close friendship, to having actual real-life friends, I realized how difficult it can be and how far short of the ideals you have. They’re real-life people, all with their own issues, who disagree with you on things or live their lives in ways you think are mistakes and vice versa, who get into fights with you and each other, who maybe borrow money and then drop off the face of the planet, and can commit grave wrongs against you or each other. Friend groups are rarely stable over long periods of time, and people are busy and don’t always have time for you even if you’re close. People move away and drift apart. I think having been deeply seeped in an idealized version of friendship makes it easier for me to give up on opportunities I have for deepening and expanding real friendships, though I don’t regret making real friends for a moment. These are the types of struggle I want to have. But it does make me look back and raise an eyebrow at my younger self who felt like I was excluded from some miraculous ideal of friendship that “normal people” had access to.
  • Objectifying people. Sometimes fans treat real-world actors, musicians, or other creators or celebrities like they’re fictional characters to be drooled over, speculated about, or otherwise uncomfortably objectified. Sometimes people who are into fandom transfer this to real people and make uncomfortable comments, or even go so far as to stalk someone or feel entitled to some sort of sexual or romantic action from them. Maybe this is just a normal part of youth, but when I was younger, I definitely assumed I knew my crushes better than I actually did. It’s good to take care to remember that people are whole, independent, incredibly complex individuals who are separate from you and your fantasies.
  • Saving people/over-trusting in redemption. A lot of people are unsafe to be around, or are so lost in their own issues that they’d be an emotional vacuum until and unless they get far enough along in recovery. Yet a lot of fanfic idealizes relationships based on someone saving someone else, or on a bad character getting redeemed or being sympathetic because of some redeeming feature, and in real life feeling like you’re giving someone with a tragic backstory a chance can tug at the heartstrings, inspire, give a sense of purpose, seduce. But in real life this isn’t your role and it doesn’t end well.
  • Solitary improvement/perfectionism. A number of fanfics follow a protagonist who trains obsessively and greatly exceeds their power and ability from the canon material. A lot of fanfic readers/writers are perfectionistic loners who wish they had an opportunity to truly excel at something and the discipline to do so. What we don’t see when thinking like this is how much achievement is socially based, not individual, and how our own perfectionism blinds us to our actual achievements, talents, and opportunities (which are deeply based in social networks and group action).
  • Passive comfort. The flip side to the savior fantasy, this is the fantasy of being saved. A character who is helpless (often a child) does nothing, but someone swoops in and cares for them, heals their wounds, gives them everything they need, and often never lets them down to a super-human degree. Yes, we deserve to be nurtured, and we especially did as children, but we’re responsible (response-able) for finding out how to get what we need when we’re faced with the inevitable hardships of life.
  • Nothing ever ends. Fanfic gives us the ability to continue a series indefinitely, to bring the dead back to life, to make relationships last forever and be infinitely renewed, and so on. People who binge a TV show then move directly into reading fanfic about it are probably suffering from a real-life unwillingness to let things go (perhaps because of what comes up from the depths of their minds when they do). How else is this affecting them?

What other patterns have you experienced or seen in others?

Cycles of shame

For me and I suspect lots of you, understanding shame has been key to recovery. The circumstances that create someone who’s socially withdrawn and unable to control impulses or direct attention to chosen goals are at root shaming, and if you scratch the surface of a lot of associated behaviors and emotions, such as social anxiety and academic procrastination, there’s shame underneath.

C-PTSD

Complex PTSD is the diagnostic construct that strikes home the most for me–it’s comprehensive enough that it feels like the minimal concept to explain most of my problems. It’s basically the idea that if you spent a very long period of time, or grew up, trapped in negative circumstances in some way, you’ll have certain common issues. Does this symptom ring a bell?

“Changes in self-perception, such as a chronic and pervasive sense of helplessness, paralysis of initiative, shame, guilt, self-blame, a sense of defilement or stigma, and a sense of being completely different from other human beings.”

When I first read this, it struck me as the truest description of my teens and early 20s that I’d ever heard. Reading that post by the relatively mild fanfic addict in their late 20s who wanted to make friends but had always been too reluctant to reminded me of this–specifically the sense of being different than other people, set aside, and the learned helplessness when it comes to actually reaching out and solving the loneliness. Even if you feel like you’ve grown past whatever your childhood or other past issues were, the resulting patterns can still be limiting your behavior years later.

“But I wasn’t abused”

A lot of people start finding out that they have symptoms of childhood abuse survivors, but don’t want to malign their parents, or don’t think they had it “as bad as” some other people (no one had it “as bad as” the worst person who ever suffered in every way, and even people who had it pretty damn bad think they did’t have it as bad, by the way). But trauma and shame can result from not getting your needs met in a child in any persistent way, or suffering unavoidable losses. It’s not just about a parent cussing you out or hitting you.

Partial list of things that might have produced these symptoms (trigger warning, this is literally a list of traumas):

  • Physical abuse, including “punishment”
  • Sexual abuse or harassment or something that made you feel abused even if maybe the person doing it didn’t mean it that way (e.g. jokes, unwanted touching that may not have been intended as molestation, being in a sexual relationship too young even if you thought you were ready and consented and the other person was also young or you were technically of age)
  • Verbal abuse, including “jokes”, unhelpful criticisms that the person making them says are “just the truth”, and manipulative or passive-aggressive comments that are hard to pin down as abusive on the surface
  • Emotional abuse, including gaslighting (such as someone denying that they said or did something), lack of proper boundaries (such as a parent who “parentifies” a child by acting like their best friend, sharing emotional/personal confessions that aren’t age-appropriate, and/or failing to be sufficiently responsible so the child has to pick up the slack), perfectionism, controlling-ness, and so on
  • Medical abuse or neglect, or simple trauma from medical issues
  • Secondary trauma from watching someone else be abused or suffer medical issues or other trauma
  • Living with someone who’s mentally ill, addicted, or takes up most of the family’s mental/emotional resources to take care of for whatever reason*
  • Losing a parent due to divorce, jail, death, deportation, or other reason
  • Being bullied by other kids, including otrasicization
  • Being bullied by siblings, or put into a negative or limiting role by siblings or family for whatever reason
  • Medical neglect, or not being able to receive medical care or not identified as needing it even if it isn’t intentional neglect
  • Not having a close connection with a safe adult who you talk to regularly about how your day was and what challenges you’re going through
  • Having immature parents who don’t set a good example of emotional and interpersonal skills
  • Having parents who are absent because they’re always working, even if they had to do that for you to survive
  • Being someone that society is hostile to, due to religion, race/ethnicity, national origin, disability, LGBT status, gender, etc
  • Neglect of physical needs, such as not being provided with sufficient food or clothing
  • Neglect of emotional/social needs
  • Being raised in a religious (or other cultural/ideological) environment that wasn’t healthy for you
  • Experiencing losses, traumas, or chronic stresses due to poverty, war, or natural disaster
  • Moving and not easily being able to rebuild your life afterward

You might have experienced a lot of these and not have C-PTSD or other resulting troubles–there’s a lot of protective or healing factors and a lot of vulnerability factors. And if you do have serious psychological problems and can point to someone who’s went through the same thing but appears to be better off–(a) mind your own business, (b) you don’t necessarily know they aren’t coping with it negatively in some other way (and you might already know but be dismissing it because it’s not your problem), and (c) they probably had more support in healing or less vulnerability factors. It doesn’t make them better than you.

*Reading some of these might have provoked shame or guilt on your own part again–e.g. the part about living with someone with mental illness may have made you think, “I’m mentally ill. Am I so bad that it would be traumatic for someone to live with me?” but please don’t interpret it that way. There are some mentally ill people who neglect or abuse their children, and some addicts who behave in a way that traumatizes children, and some families who, through no fault of the affected person and perhaps no fault of their own given their access to resources, use up all their energy on one person’s issue to the detriment of other family members’ needs. These are listed separately because there’s a tendency of people affected to say that what they experienced doesn’t count because they think it would be selfish to focus on their own needs when the other person was clearly suffering or had limited capability.

‘And a side note on anger and blame–I’ve found experiencing (and expressing in appropriate/safe ways) anger and blame to be a crucial aspect of healing. Since I struggled with basic feelings of unworthiness, it was helpful to point out that, no, the problem was not inside me, it was in how I’d been treated, by my parents and society–both the things they did and the things they didn’t do. I’ve even found writing down all the reasons I had to be angry at an abuser who I’d prematurely forgiven (blaming myself or no one) to be a necessary cure for flashbacks. But some people believe that blaming others isn’t useful, and I suspect that’s because some people who do it get trapped in feeling hostility and aggression or abdicating their own responsibility to respond to the reality of their lives even if they don’t like it and it isn’t fair. Blaming/feeling anger is a tool for reclaiming your own power–if it stops being that, and starts fueling ruminations, withdrawal, abusive behavior on your part, or an addiction to the high of self-righteous anger, notice it and move back to healing in a workable direction.

How does all this cause shame?

If you’re like I was, you’re vaguely aware that some people describe abuse as leading to shame, but your overriding understanding of shame comes from the dominant social narrative that shame is what someone feels (or should feel) when they’ve done something really wrong.

But some people draw the distinction between guilt and shame this way: Guilt is what you feel about violating your own standards; shame is what you feel when you’ve violated other people’s standards.

The further link here is that your brain isn’t that sophisticated and doesn’t reason out whether you should be feeling shame when it unconsciously learns shame–it just knows, especially when you’re a kid, that what you’re experiencing is what happens when you’re being shamed. Any kind of abuse, neglect, serious loneliness, or other forms of suffering, exclusion, abandonment, or rejection might translate into “I don’t deserve better/people don’t want to see my basic needs met” in your psyche.

Signs of shame

If you’re still not sure that what you’re experiencing is shame, here’s some possible ways it could manifest on a daily basis:

  • Social anxiety or embarrassment being common or life-steering emotions
  • Intense regret over things you said, possibly a long time ago, that didn’t result in any obvious negative consequences
  • Locking up under pressure (when someone expects you to perform) on a task that you could probably tackle if no one would know about it
  • Defensiveness, fragility, or a hair-trigger temper over criticism, potentially over anything that remotely smacks of criticism
  • Continual sense that you’ll get fired from your job, fail out of school, be broken up with, or that your friends don’t like you anymore, even when there isn’t strong, realistic evidence that this result is imminent
  • Intrusive thoughts that make you feel like a monster and that you obsess over (morbid thoughts OCD)
  • Procrastinating whenever you think you might “fail” at something since in your mind, it’s not just one task with a risk, but rather the whole idea that you’re a “failure” and that you’ll therefore never have a good future
  • Thinking your life trajectory is going toward on-the-streets homelessness, even when you have savings and/or plenty of people who would take you in
  • Difficulty speaking at all, or a least loudly and clearly and saying what you mean, assertively
  • Hunched shoulders, bent back, downward-looking eyes/not meeting people’s gaze
  • Frequently assuming other people are better than you or would be preferred by other people for some purpose without evidence; feeling caught up on comparing yourself and constructing narratives about how you are less worthy than the people who you do have evidence to construct such a narrative for
  • A defeatist attitude/learned helplessness, where you don’t try to find or take opportunities to pursue the life you’d rather want, and/or have beliefs that single you out for failure, like, “This is just how my life goes” whenever something bad happens but not when something good happens
  • Excessive attempts to prove yourself, such as workaholism, anorexia/excessive exercising, reading tons of social justice critiques and obsessing over your personal role/behavior in these systems, getting really into religion and trying to perfect or purify yourself that way, etc.
  • Apologizing for things you don’t need to apologize for and then apologizing for apologizing

What do I do about shame?

First, like with any type of emotion, thought, urge, etc., learn to look at it in your head and accept it. Trying to fight or eliminate something in your mind can just make it stronger, since you’re directing more energy toward it and since there’s no way to actually remove a thought from your head–trying to just creates more pathways to it/associations with it.

“Accepting” it doesn’t mean that you act on it, believe it, dwell on it, or anything of that sort. You can have a thought in your mind while doing the opposite of what the thought says, or something completely unrelated to the thought. The idea here is just seeing it as a passenger in your head while you continue driving your life. I’m drawing on ACT here–ACT also teaches a set of defusion exercises, to lower the intensity and believability of these mental experiences without trying to get “rid” of them, and mindfulness exercises, which will help you see your thoughts as thoughts instead of absolute reality, and also let you direct your attention elsewhere.

Having established that you’re not going to try to live without shame in any way, here’s some tips (mostly from DBT) on how to handle it:

First, do a reality check. Decide that you’re only going to dwell on shame if it’s justified–if you did something really bad (it actually hurt other people) and have yet to make amends for it, or, if amends aren’t possible, do what’s required to make it so you won’t do it again.

Do a reality check again–break out the paper and probe your reasoning and assumptions here–if you’re coming up with “yeah, this is real” a lot, because for me I’ve been practicing this for a couple weeks now and have never yet come up with a shame response that was justified. I’m sure I will in the future, but I expect it’ll be a few times a year or less, not every day.

If shame isn’t justified, do the opposite of what shame makes you want to do: Hold your head up and shoulders back; speak loudly and clearly; tell someone (who won’t reject you) what you did or announce it to the world if that’s not particularly risky.

If it is, do your best to make amends/take prevention steps, then go do the things you do for unjustified shame, because now it’s time to heal from your shame, not let it drive you further down the wrong path.

It’ll be easier to get out of the cycle of shame if you’re in a situation that isn’t shaming–for instance, you have a social circle where you’re accepted and people aren’t verbally abusive/shaming; you have a job where you aren’t abused and powerless; you have good friends or family you can call when lonely or when you’re feeling rejected, out of place, or bad about something you did who you can talk it over with; and you have competencies that you exercise on a regular basis to do something that you and other people think is valuable, so you feel pride. This might seem like an impossible dream–meant for someone else, but not for you–but you get there one step at a time. If you both work on the emotional regulation techniques for shame listed above, and move toward a life situation with more positive aspects, the two efforts will reinforce each other and be more effective than working on one alone.

Conclusion

For many of us, shame is the water we swim in, so we don’t even know it’s there. We might notice a few of the stronger currents that pull us away, but not how it’s blurring our vision of the world and slowing our movements through it on a moment-by-moment basis.

For someone fighting addiction, shame is often very familiar–what we feel when we relapse, the fear we have even when free from our addiction that we’ll go back to its shackles, the habit of avoiding people we care about when they might realize we’ve relapsed, of avoiding commitments to other things we’d like to participate in out of fear of flaking out, the times we’ve been compelled to binge harder by our very shame about having relapsed in the first place.

We need to work on recovering from the shame as much or more than we need to work on removing the addiction. The severity of negative consequences/risk of the addiction can determine which you prioritize, but ultimately shame is a root cause of addiction and addressing it will help over time. And that includes addressing shame over the fact that you are addicted–and what you’re addicted to.

When the problem is thinking you have a problem

I’m going to be a bit unorthodox here, but–

Sometimes, with behavioral addictions, the problem isn’t the behavior in question, but rather your failed attempts to control and prevent that behavior. When it comes to attempts to control eating, that harmful need to control has been given its own names–the person who tries to cut out all “unclean” food who becomes orthorexic, or the person who feels they eat too much who becomes anorexic. So clearly you can’t always trust your first perception of what it is you’re doing too much of.

I live in a conservative religious area, where many people think masturbation or “same-sex attraction” is a sin, and people who “struggle” with those things get treated for “sex addiction”. And my recovered-behavioral-addict self can easily imagine what it feels like to be one of them–continually trying to stop and then, humiliatingly, ending up doing the thing again–the shame and suicidality that results, the mental splitting needed to condemn yourself on the one hand and go do it again on the other, and so on. Yet as someone who knows that masturbation or being queer is just part of how many people’s bodies function and doesn’t do any harm, I think it’s clear where the real problem is: The people and social processes that made them try to stop something that they have a hard-wired need for that isn’t harming anyone.

Which isn’t to say that you can’t have a masturbation addiction. There’s people who do that shit at work, where other people can see them, excessively, near-constantly. So we need to think hard about how to identify “the problem”, and leave some degree uncertainty around that judgment if appropriate. Perhaps in the most common case, people can work on both the shame and mental split (“I really want to do this”/”I hate that I do this and want to stop entirely”) and the behavior at the same time.

When doing some quick googling to see if other people were talking about fanfiction addiction, I read a post where someone was talking about how they wanted to cut back on fanfic because it was escapism, childish, eating up their time–but also the only bright spot in their day. People mostly gave advice that I thought was pretty good, and trended toward: It sounds like you want to make friends, but you don’t have to give up fanfic to do that.

I can’t read fanfic healthily. I do not reliably stop when I need to do something else–like sleep, eat, or go somewhere. I can’t get myself to stop. It awakens a mental monster in me that consumes everything else I care about. I’ve told myself hundreds of times that this time, I’m going to do it in moderation, but let myself down by going on binges that harmed me. If you are like me this post might just be feeding more of your rationalizations that’ll get you into relapse again, so be mindful. You don’t have to act on rationalizations–you can see past them to the important point. But even for me, fanfic wasn’t damaging my life as much as I thought it was. My worst fanfic years were in college, and I graduated summa cum laude with job offers despite all the skipped classes, homework left undone, non-existent studying, major papers churned out partially finished an hour before class, take-home tests started at midnight the day they were due, and so on. The damage I did by hating myself over all this was at least as bad as the damage I did by checking out of life so much (given that the way I did it wasn’t actually itself risky).

So, some tips:

  • If you’re actually reading fanfic in moderation, even if you occasionally do it instead of something else you intended to do, it’s worth asking whether you’re just being perfectionistic about your time. It’s one thing to stay up all night reading fanfic for 12 hours straight multiple times during finals week, but it’s another thing to need a break from all that studying and take a couple hours of escapism before going to bed at midnight. Are you beating yourself up over not living up to unrealistic requirements (that are probably only going to burn you out anyway)? And even if you did just sabotage finals week with a fanfic binge, did your academic perfectionism make you do that, or has it really reached the point where your need for fanfiction is driving the problems? It can start as one and end up as the other.
  • Feeling pleasure is a need you have. It’s not shameful to seek it out in a way that doesn’t harm anyone, and fanfic is a genre of literature that includes both “bad” writing (which can still be great if people enjoy it) and fics that reach lofty artistic heights and psychological sophistication that few published works can rival. So if your fanfic habit isn’t out of control, is just something you’re doing in moderation and enjoy, why feel shame over it? Whose judgmental voice is in your head, and why are you letting it make you reject yourself?
  • If you think you’re reading fanfic too much and that if you stopped you’d pursue things you value in life (like real-life friends), going cold turkey might work. But if your project isn’t going well (it takes a while to make friends), and you go back to reading fanfic, that isn’t a problem as long as you don’t give up on the project. Eventually, you might have a life filled with so many things you don’t read fanfic anymore, but reading it for comfort during a hard time isn’t inherently bad. You could even use it as a reward for doing difficult things that might get your life where you want them to be, like going to yet another meetup that you’re nervous about but might eventually become a central social circle in your life.
  • Think hard about shame, and decide to only indulge in shame if you’ve really done something very wrong. Otherwise, just let thoughts/feelings of shame go without dwelling on them, believing them, or creating a narrative about yourself around them.
  • If part of yourself longs for fanfic, and the rest of you really doesn’t want to go down that route, don’t just reject and try to stomp out the longing. Choose that both sides of you should have compassion for the other, and try to figure out how to meet all your emotional and external needs without setting up some impossible scenario where, say, your need for happiness has to be stomped out to meet your material needs, or vice versa.