For years my problem has been diagnosed as mild ADD. Perhaps it is. But it's more helpful to me, right now, to look at it as a kind of addiction. I'll explain why, but first let me describe what I mean by addict and addiction.
When I say I'm an addict, I mean this: when I do something that I know is wrong, something that when I think about it carefully has more bad effects than good ones, and I do it anyway, then I'm being an addict. I know I should finish things that I start, and not go off pursuing something new. But I do it anyway. I'm a high functioning novelty addict, but I'm still an addict. And I'm in my second day of recovery.
The problem we novelty addicts have is this: unless we're under constant supervision, or under active threat, we don't get stuff done. Whatever I am doing, I'll soon find something more interesting to do. That's inevitable because anything, anything at all, becomes less novel after a short while. So it's not long before I'm feeding my habit. I'll jump from one necessary or formerly interesting thing to some newer, more shiny thing. That's my addictive behavior.
I've kept my addiction enough under control that I've been able to get good grades in school, and have a successful career. I've done my work, albeit with many interruptions and only focusing when the pressure is on. Why? Well, there's nothing quite so interesting as a threat to survival! It's practically the most interesting thing there can be--until the threat is past. And I've been able to raise a family and carry out household responsibilities--albeit with a certain amount of nagging and occasional threats to my survival. Others have been victims of my addiction, but I've kept it under control. The main damage has been self-damage. The principal victim of my addiction has been me (although my wife might argue otherwise.)
So even though I've managed my addiction well enough to have a successful career and to keep my wife from killing me, my personal life has been a series of largely unfinished personal projects. I am not talking about chores. My long-suffering wife sees that they get done. No, these are projects that I want to do. In some cases they are projects that I really want to do. In many cases they are projects that I really, really, really want to do. I start them, but I don't finish them.
Take writing, for example. I love to write. I've always loved to write. I've got a a near-endless list of personal writing projects--some of which even I've started on. But in general, as much as I love writing, as much as I think that writing would be good for me, I don't write. I have no fewer than seven blogs all set up and configured, ready to receive what I write--and very little written. Apparently setting up a blog has more novelty content than actually writing. The addiction takes over and nothing gets done.
I look back on my life with a mixture of pleasure, despite my addiction, and frustration. The pleasure comes both from my non-addictive accomplishments, and from the fact that many of my addictive behaviors are useful and beneficial. Learning new things is a novelty, so despite jumping from topic to topic, I've learned a lot. Practicing guitar was novel for a while; so was playing keyboards. I do both from time to time, but after a while the interest fades, and my addiction must be fed. I stick with nothing unless required to by "higher powers"--my wife, my boss, or some other power.
I'm also addicted to reading email. For me, email addiction is a specific form of novelty addiction. It might also be looked at as a separate addiction, in its own right. I know that checking email not only takes time, but it reduces concentration and focus. But I do it anyway. At my worst I'll check it dozens of times a day. At my very worst, dozens of times an hour. When an email comes in, I'm on it. It's something new! It's attention. If it's from someone I need to reply to, even better. I'll write a well-crafted reply and send it off. I get a brief burst of satisfaction when I send a good reply. It's better than whatever the hell I was doing when the email came it. It keeps me looking for more emails. It keeps me hooked. I'm an email addict.
I have other addictions as well. There's Internet browsing addiction, for example. But they're all varieties of the one major addiction: novelty. Once I looked at it as an addiction I had taken the first step on the road to recovery. The question then became: what next?
The answer (I hypothesize, being only in my second day of recovery) is to follow my own adapted version of the 12-step process used in almost all addiction recovery programs. You start with the first step: knowing you have a problem. You get specific about it. In the adapted words of the original Alcoholics Anonymous program step 1 is:
We admitted that we were powerless over novelty addiction--that at least a part of our lives had become unmanageable.
That's me, powerless with parts of my life unmanageable. I am a novelty addict; an email junkie; a browsing fiend; a starting-projects-and-not-finishing-them hound (Starting gives me a rush; working them is hard, boring, or both; finishing? Don't even ask about it.). I am a novelty addict. Yesterday, I realized that I was an addict. Today I am in my second day of recovery. This posting is a hopeful sign. We'll see what happens when the novelty wears off.
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