My video game addiction

Yeah, we’re going to be talking about that tonight. I have my hook stuck in that particular hunk of shrapnel and I am going to haul as long and as hard as I can to get it out.

I am, very clearly, addicted to video games. I play them for the majority of my waking hours. My mind is set to maximize my video game playing time, a habit I picked up when I had my breakdown and was hardcore addicted to Skyrim.

And I suppose, in the background of my mind, on some level I assumed that once I kicked the Skyrim habit, things went back to normal.

But they clearly did not. The games may have changed but the addiction remains the same. I still play video games compulsively and constantly.

And like any good addiction, it has hollowed me out. Addictions by their very nature displace all other forms of pleasure.

My online life used to be far more diversified. I did all kinds of stuff. Hung out on the MUCK, hung out on Facebook, read news websites, you name it.

And I still do those things. But only while I am eating. Meals are the big loophole in the compulsion that I have maintained despite the addiction. It’s nearly impossible to eat and play most video games at the same time, so when I eat, I stop.

And that’s all well and good. In general, while I am eating, the compulsion leaves me alone, and I can do all the fun stuff I used to do.

The drama doesn’t start until I am finished eating.

That’s when the compulsion rears its ugly head and the urge to disconnect from everything and either nap then play games or go straight for the games begins to build.

I grow increasingly uneasy and jumpy. I start to sweat. My agitation level climbs. It’s like a maddening itch of the soul. One that just builds and builds, knowing that when it gets bad enough, you will have no choice but to scratch.

And so from the moment I stop eating, the clock is ticking. It doesn’t matter what I am doing or how much I am enjoying it. Sooner or later. I will have to flee.

That’s a huge change. I have always loved video games and played them frequently in my pre-Skyrim days. That’s not new.

But I would always spend many hours doing other stuff, perfectly content. Video games did not dominate my life like they do now.

If I tried to do the MUCK and Facebook thing for three hours or more today, I would be feeling the compulsion the whole time. I would have the urge to quit and go back to games or napping building the whole time and a voice in my head would be saying “What are you doing? You could be playing video games!”.

And when I finally relented, that voice would still be there, berating me for “wasting” all that precious video game playing time.

The fact that I have way more time for games than I need is irrelevant. Addictions don’t understand the concept of “enough”. The ferocious hunger burning inside me cannot be satiated or even placated.

It’s stuck on “optimize this variable regardless of cost”, like the brooms with the buckets from Disney’s The Magician’s Apprentice in Fantasia.

I feel like there were fewer barriers between pop culture and high culture back then

The freshest example of this is the3 fact that I don’t chat on the MUCK while I blog any more. Blogging used to be another time when I was my old self and not the video game junkie I am today.

But at some point I told myself that chatting while writing was compromising my work and that I wrote better without that “distraction”.

Bull shit. The real reason is that I write faster when I am not also hanging with my fuzzy buddies on the MUCK, and that means I “waste” less video time and hence maximize that goddamned variable all to hell.

All you patient readers know why I am so addicted. While I am playing a video game, my mind is too occupied and engaged for me to be neurotic, self-conscious, or depressed. As long as I am playing a good game, I am safe from all the chemical bullshit going on in my brain.

While I am playing a game, I feel safe, and warm, and protected. The game becomes my own little world where I understand the rules and know what to expect and where nobody else can get to me

Its the exact same thing I used to get out of books and TV when I was a kid. As long as I was actively engaged in media, my world was small and safe and comprehensible. I could let the media product fill my mind and displace all other concerns while I curled up inside a warm coccoon like a fuzzy caterpillar.

Remember, whenever someone is unhealthily absorbed in something, whether it’s video games or sports or even religion, it’s never really about the addiction’s focus, it’s about what indulging said addiction shuts out.

And what it replaces.

The thing is. my addiction wouldn’t matter if I thought I could be content leading the quietly meaningless sort of life I lead now till the day I die.

But I want to get out of this cage of mine and become a real adult human instead of being frozen forever somewhere between childhood and adolesence.

And that is not going to happen with this fucking addiction sucking up all my time. When would I do any of the things I would need to get somewhere in my writing career when all the hours of the day are taken up by this bullshit?

It would be great if I could just quit. But I am too scared to do that. I don’t know how to cope with that any more. There are a lot of lonely hours to fill in a disabled person’s life and the thought of being alone with my thoughts to any extent scares the hell out of me.

Still, maybe I will give it a shot. Challenge myself to go 24 hours sans video games. See what happens in my mind when I don’t have that outlet.

Could be something good.

Might be something bad.

But I think it’s worth finding out.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

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