My {REAL} Strange Addiction

You’ve heard of the show called My Strange Addiction, right?

There’s an episode dedicated to a lady who’s addicted to chalk, another episode of a guy who is addicted to eating glass, and another that follows a husband and wife duo who are addicted to coffee enemas. 😳

These people show us what their lives look like when their addiction controls their life and how they feel when they have their “fix”. They try to avoid talking about and experiencing what it’s like to be without their vice.

They then talk with experts to try to implement some ways to identify the source of the addiction and provide different coping skills to try to help them overcome it. By the end of the show you get an update on how they’re doing and some of them make progress, others stay the same.

As easy as it might be to judge these people I know that I can’t. Because I know that I have a strange addiction too…

STRESS.

I am addicted to stress. If I do get to a point where I’m in a circumstance or with a person that fosters true literal peace in me, I get so consumed with that feeling. But because I work hard to be self aware knowing that the feeling is temporary, I cause myself stress by trying to prolong the feeling of peace, rather than just enjoying it in the moment.

For example, I see glimpses of peace and relaxation when I get a massage. But I can’t even genuinely enjoy it because I’m too busy trying to decipher and study what the massage therapist’s hands and arms are doing to create the circumstances for me to relax, so that maybe I can make other people feel relaxed if I study what they’re doing to try to make me feel relaxed.

Even though I’m in the “position” to relax physically, I’m not in the mental posture to relax because I’m too busy overexerting my brain to still be thinking about others, in order to avoid self-centeredness, which in turn continues to grow the very stress I’m trying to relieve.

Probably one of the hardest pills for me to swallow is when someone tells me to “relax.”, or to “chill out”. I know they mean well, but that’s the equivalent of telling someone who has depression to “just be happy.”

It’s the reason why these past 4 years I’ve maintained a maximum of 4 jobs at one time. Because, I thought: if I exhaust myself with work then my brain will have no other choice but to max out at a 70-80 hour work week. But I’m still causing myself stress because I deprive myself of the very relationships that help to maintain my sanity.

If i’m told to “relax”, the opposite happens. I shut down, and shut up. And if I’m discouraged from verbally processing my thoughts, that means my thoughts have to stay in my head, and if they stay in my head, they’ll never be organized. And not having organized thoughts causes me… you guessed it! STRESS.

And that’s when I become aware that my brain is too big of a burden, it’s either going to be a burden to me or a burden to others.

So then, I’ve gotta “reel it in”.

Speaking of “reeling it in”:

Did you know that The National Ocean Service states that we have only explored 5% of the depth of the ocean?

Let that sink in— no pun intended. (Ok, maybe a little pun intended. 🤓😂)

With all of our advancement in technology we have only explored a measly 5%?! That’s insane!

If my brain was the ocean then I’m the lead oceanographer: researching, magnifying, minimizing, exploring, learning, digging deeper, energized by my dinglehopper findings that I just keep going.

But then I reach my limit. Because the very thing I’m exploring the depths of has limits of what I can understand of it. Just like how there’s 95% of the ocean that’s gone unexplored and unknown.

Curiosity hasn’t killed me yet.

But that’s the trigger, the curiosity. The curiosity fuels my desire to find patterns in people so I can better read what they say without saying a word. Because if I can read people better, I can meet their needs better & if I can meet their needs better, I’ll be seen as valuable & if I’m seen as valuable, I’ll be loved and appreciated.

I have to earn my value.

But that’s the lie I keep believing: I have to earn my value.

There is something in me that says that in order to be valuable I must become someone of value. There’s a fear inside of me that prevents me from seeing myself as valuable in the absence of the actions that I do for others, And that’s yet another trigger in addition to my curiosity. The two together are a lethal combination that causes my addiction to stress.

“If only I could be enough.”

Is it possible to be fascinated by my own debilitation? Because I am. And it’s a jarring feeling.

I overexert my mind, I become overwhelmed and stressed out over every little thing that could possibly make me a disappointment to those around me. Sometimes its the very avoidance of failure that causes me to fail harder, and with more frequency, simply because I’m trying so hard NOT to fail that I cause my own demise.

This way of thinking wasn’t taught. Somewhere along the way my study, intrigue, obsession with growth, evolvement, learning, dissecting, creating, reflecting became a burden rather than a balance.

I allow my brain to be overactive in such a way that causes me stress-induced exhaustion.

So just like the people who eat glass, eat chalk or struggle with any other “strange addiction” like coffee enemas 💩 , I have to prioritize acknowledging the triggers that cause my stress.

I have to reprogram my brain in a way to embrace that I am valuable and I am loved not because of anything I could ever do, but because of everything Jesus did.

And that is enough.