When my realtor handed over the keys to my first home in late September, I didn’t feel like I had realized the American Dream. I even had a car in the lot (well, on the street) and a chicken in the pot. But there was still something missing.
I felt closer to realizing the American Dream while doing drugs with friends in the Escalante National Monument. That national treasure in Utah is being gutted to exploit energy sources by Secretary of the Interior Ryan Zinke and President Donald Trump, but they can’t touch the memories I have of that place or the feelings they invoke.
As we pulled away from a National Park Ranger checkpoint with so much drugs and alcohol the four of us couldn’t finish it all in a week, I watched as unlucky hippies leaned against cop cars on the side of the road with their hands cuffed behind them. It made us all realize how lucky we were. Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to be out of the county without my probation officer’s permission, so staying my ass out of federal prison and going on to have the time of my life made it feel like the new American Dream was to do drugs in beautiful places with lovely people and not get caught. But that’s just part of the new American Dream. The new American Dream is to do all those drugs and then recover from whatever addictions you acquire.
It wasn’t until I quit drinking that I felt I had realized the American Dream. I’ve tried just about everything when it comes to stimulants and depressants, but it was alcohol that brought me the most trouble in my life. Sure I was on probation for possessing a pound or so of pot, but I spent more days in jail during that probation because of alcohol than I did for using cannabis, and I still managed to use cannabis pretty regularly. But I drank daily.
First I decided I’d “slow down” for my body’s sake. You know, drink fewer days during the week. And I did, too. I had just become really intrigued by body chemistry and nutrition, so when I started counting my calories, I got a good look at my problem. I drank less often, sure, but did I ever make up for it on the weekends.
When I found it difficult to meet my caloric goals because of my drinking, I drank faster so I could drink less, or I did more exercise so I could drink more. My weekly cheat day became my opportunity to get super drunk.
When I visited my hometown in Eastern Montana and was assaulted while drunk for saying I was a Socialist, I realized I was incapable of drinking responsibly. I drank for more than 12 hours that day and blacked out en route to a house party. The only thing I remember is saying “I’m a Socialist” and someone immediately suplexing me. Sure, it was a hate crime, but since I couldn’t remember a name, face or much of anything, I wasn’t about to make a big deal of it. I figure those people living with themselves has to be punishment enough.
It took a few more weeks before I actually quit alcohol for good. It was October 3rd, and the Minnesota Twins had lost to the Yankees in the playoffs, again. I drunkenly rode my bike home from O’Donovan’s Pub, where a bartender informed me that Twins’ third baseman Miguel Sano frequented the place, and one time, drank “16 beers” with his arms wrapped around two women while on the disabled list with a stress fracture in his leg. (Just under three months later, Sano was alleged to have committed sexual assault.)
I haven’t had a drink since I heard that story. The next day hurt worse than any hangover I’ve had, including the morning after the Socialist suplexing. I stayed home from work and chased Ibuprofen with soup and water. I had no alcohol in the house because I had finished it all when I got home the night before. Usually I would have handled that hangover with a Bloody Mary or Screwdriver, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave the house to get alcohol. When I checked my receipts (apparently after I had closed my tab I opened another) and found I had spent $70 -- my average monthly booze budget -- in one night, I knew I was done drinking. I didn’t need an intervention or treatment to stop drinking because I knew if I drank again, I could drink myself to death.
That doesn’t mean alcoholics don’t need help. In fact, 95 percent of alcoholics who need treatment don’t think they need it. Maybe I’m just a member of that majority, and it’ll take a relapse for me to realize it. At least I could get treatment if I wanted it, and my insurance would even cover it. That’s not the case for every addict.
A 2016 report by the U.S. Surgeon General found that one in seven Americans will face some sort of substance addiction. The economic impact of those collective addictions amounts to $442 billion each year, which rises as healthcare premiums rise. And America has the highest drug-death rate in the world.
Worse yet, we’re not even addressing the problem properly. Instead of providing the treatment addicts need, money is funneled by politicians to for-profit prisons instead of treatment facilities, leaving addicts without the treatment and supportive community necessary to keep them clean. The number of substance abuse treatment facilities in the U.S., which focus on drug and alcohol abuse, was reported to be 13,873 in 2014, a decrease from the 14,152 facilities reported in the previous year.
“Former inmates return to environments that strongly trigger relapse to drug use and put them at risk for overdose,” according to a 2012 study published in Addiction Science & Clinical Practice. Of the more than 21 million addicts in America, only 10 percent receive treatment, mostly due to a lack of healthcare coverage or lack of treatment centers in their area. According to the Journal of the American Medical Association, 80 percent of opioid addicts don’t get treatment, and a similar 2015 study found a million opioid addicts couldn’t get treatment for their addictions if they wanted it.
That leaves a lot of Americans on our own to struggle through our addictions. I’ve resisted to commit to Alcoholics Anonymous or the 12-Step Program because I wasn’t convinced I had a problem. Now that I am convinced, I realize the importance of having a community to support you and your decision, but I still haven’t attended an AA meeting because the 12-Step Program utilized by AA most often relies on a commitment to religion. Giving oneself up to “a higher power” is the first step, and it wasn’t until I read Russell Brand’s Recovery: Freedom from Our Addictions that I found a non-religious means to put the 12-Step Program to work for me, an atheist.
Since publicly announcing my problem with alcohol on Facebook on Oct. 12, 2017, I found I did have a community in place to help me through my problem with alcohol. Friends of mine who’ve long been out of touch and also quit drinking offered their support, as did my family. Not every alcoholic has friends and family with experience overcoming addiction, however. I guess I’m lucky to have excessively drunk alcohol and done drugs with people willing and capable of realizing and accepting their powerlessness over substances.
Prisoners aren’t leaving prisons with that community in place. They’re reentering communities where they’ll be tempted around every corner. So until we stop putting nonviolent, drug offenders behind bars and instead put them in treatment centers to get the help they truly need, we’ll be inching ever closer to making the new American Dream overcoming addiction.
If you like this, you might like these Genesis Communications Network talk shows: America’s Healthcare Advocate, The Bright Side, The Dr. Daliah Show, Dr. Asa On Call, Dr. Coldwell Opinion Radio, Good Day Health, Health Hunters, Herb Talk
The controversial and often ridiculous “gaming leads to violence” argument rears it’s ugly head once again. Multiple sources report that the World Health Organization proposed a revision to their International Classification of Diseases (ICD-11) to classify gaming behaviors as a mental disorder, labeling it a “disorder due to addictive behaviors,” and later a “hazardous gaming” section. Responding to the classification, dozens of game savvy scholars paused their Xbox One to immediately pen an open letter to the W.H.O., which saves me the trouble of doing so.
The authors of said letter have more expertise than me, ranging from the obvious “video games, internet and social media” to broad categories like “children’s rights in a digital age” to the slightly obscure “epidemiology of healthy and unhealthy use of new media” and more. Their letter, "Gaming Disorder in ICD-11: Letter of concern" states, “Concerns about problematic gaming behaviors deserve our full attention. Some gamers do experience serious problems as a consequence of the time spent playing video games. However, we claim that it is far from clear that these problems can or should be attributed to a new disorder, and the empirical basis for such a proposal suffers from several fundamental issues.”
Included within the letter are their main concerns:
“The empirical basis for a Gaming Disorder proposal, such as in the new ICD-11, suffers from fundamental issues. Our main concerns are the low quality of the research base, the fact that the current operationalization leans too heavily on substance use and gambling criteria, and the lack of consensus on symptomatology and assessment of problematic gaming. The act of formalizing this disorder, even as a proposal, has negative medical, scientific, public-health, societal, and human rights fallout that should be considered. Of particular concern are moral panics around the harm of video gaming. They might result in premature application of diagnosis in the medical community and the treatment of abundant false-positive cases, especially for children and adolescents…”
Well, the CD-11 proposal doesn’t discuss violence, but yes, inevitably a conversation about video games eventually leads to a discussion about the violence within video games. A typical argument of, “this video game will turn your sweet, perfect child who never does anything wrong (ever!) into a chaotic evil homicidal lunatic!” is nothing new, sadly .
Back in the early 1990s, the hardest game to find (ever!) was Night Trap, an interactive movie/video game developed for the Sega/Mega-CD and released in late 1992. The game is 90+ minutes of full motion video sequences. The player switches the point of view between various hidden cameras monitoring the interior of a house and then can activate traps to capture intruding vampire creatures (called Augers) in hopes to prevent the house women (one of which is played by Dana Plato of Diff'rent Strokes) from having their blood drained.
The game was instantly notorious for “adult themes,” a violent, blood-draining “mechanic,” and a controversial “nightgown scene,” which led to the game being pulled from the market. Today this game would be considered laughably tame.
This all came to a head in 1993 with the Senate Committee Hearings on Violence in Video Games. I don’t know if Night Trap was solely responsible for the hearings, but I’m certain it was a factor, as the committee often mentions the game citing it as "shameful," "ultra-violent," "sick," "disgusting," and claims it encourages an "effort to trap and kill women.”
Wait. What? An “effort to trap and kill women?” Huh?
The documentary Dangerous Games, included in the PC version of Night Trap, allows producers and cast members to defend the plot and clear up that fact the gameplay is designed to, obviously, prevent the harm of the women in the house. In addition, “the blood draining device is intended to look very unrealistic to therefore mitigate the violence.” Despite scenes in which the girls are grabbed or pulled by enemies, “no nudity or extreme acts of violence were ever filmed or incorporated into the game.” As is usually the case, no one on the committee had ever played Night Trap and the whole hearing views on YouTube like a posturing mess of out-of-touch, old, white men.
Night Trap is not the only game that has been under fire over the years. Controversy follows video games like bees to honey. Games such as Doom (violence), Mortal Kombat (violence), The Grand Theft Auto Series (adult themes, trigger warnings, violence, violence against women), hell, even Leisure Suit Larry was controversial (obscenities and mature themes) in it’s time, the list goes on and on. Some games clearly deserve the controversy more than others.
Kind of. The crux of the issues with the W.H.O. classification of “Gaming Behavior” doesn’t revolve around violence, but since the two are often intermingled I wanted to bring it up but don’t want to go too far down that rabbit hole.
I will say that, of all the games I am aware, GTA is the most problematic, as it’s a game that, arguably, glorifies violence against women up to and including sexual assault and murder. Much has been written about the moral bankruptcy of the game. I’ll let an excellent article in polygon continue the GTA discussion but then I have to move on: Regarding GTA 5 - It’s Misogyny Can No Longer Be Ignored.
The focus of the W.H.O. classification is clearly on the words “obsession” and “addiction,” linking both to symptoms of mental disorders. Which, to be honest, does seem a bit fair.
The most famous case of obsessive gaming is the 1991 “EverQuest suicide” of Shawn Woolley, a Wisconsin kid that struggled with learning disabilities and emotional problems. When he was twenty one years old he found a new job and moved into a new apartment. Less than a year later, while he sat at his computer desk, he shot himself. The online game, EverQuest, was on the monitor in front of him.
His mother, Elizabeth, has since blamed EverQuest for significantly contributing to Shawn’s suicide. She told multiple sources that Shawn, “...in mid 1991...stopped working, stopped cleaning his apartment and stopped seeing his family. He wouldn’t let anyone come in and all he did was sit at home and play EverQuest. That was the beginning of the end.” Her view of online games is that they are designed to include addictive qualities that are unhealthy to the gamer.
After Shawn’s death Liz created the website On-Line Gamers Anonymous or the OLG-Anon. Elizabeth founded the site in 1992 in order to, “...share our experience, strengths and hope to help each other recover and heal from problems caused by excessive game playing, whether it be computer, video, console, or on-line.” OLG-Anon continues to operate today.
Shawn’s story is tragic, but I suspect you are thinking exactly what I am thinking. Elizabeth describes Shawn as someone who struggled with, “learning disabilities and emotional problems.” I’m inclined to believe, “emotional problems” more so than obsessive online gaming, were the root of Shawn’s sad end. That being said, I 100-percent agree that too much gaming can be unhealthy. Of course, I believe that too much of any one thing can be bad for you. Even drinking too much water can be unhealthy!
I’ve seen obsession similar to Shawn’s. A former roommate spent anywhere from eight to 10 to maybe 16 hours a day playing World of Warcraft online. He would pause for sleep, restroom breaks and meals (which he would eat in front of his computer). He would not clean his room, the interior of his car was a disaster, he would not do dishes, and he certainly couldn’t be bothered to remove empty bottles, cans or pizza boxes from on or around his computer desk.
You will be shocked to learn said roommate was notoriously underemployed and pretty damn dateless for the three (or four?) years he was glued to WoW. But then he got over it. So while I agree gaming can be unhealthy, I have yet to read one legitimate study to convince me that even the unhealthiest of gaming choices is a gateway to violence or violent behaviors.
As for “gaming behavior as a mental disorder?” Well, I don’t know. My gut instinct is, “Gaming can’t be classified as a mental disorder ... because that would be silly.” On the other hand, there are some really silly mental disorders already out there: triskaidekaphobia, explosive head syndrome, the Jumping Frenchmen (of Maine) syndrome. If gaming can become SO obsessive and SO addictive … then maybe it deserves a place in the mental disorder hall of fame along with those listed greats.
But probably not. Referring back to the open letter:
“The healthy majority of gamers will be affected by stigma and perhaps even changes in policy. We expect that inclusion of gaming disorder in ICD-11 will cause significant stigma to the millions of children and adolescents who play video games as part of a normal, healthy life … In brief, including this diagnosis in ICD-11 will cause signiﬁcantly more harm than good. Given the immaturity of the existing evidence base, it will negatively impact the lives of millions of healthy video gamers while being unlikely to provide valid identification of true problem cases.”
There is a mountain of anecdotal evidence to suggest gaming can be unhealthy. There is an equally colossal volume of peer reviewed actual evidence to suggest gaming has a host of positive benefits (especially for kids) including (but not limited to): helping them learn to follow directions … engaging in problem-solving to find solutions …. learning strategy and anticipation, understanding management of resources, reading, multitasking and quick thinking. The lists just go on and on.
I’m not going to link every study I’ve read because, trust me, they are real easy to find on your own. And the reason they are real easy to find is because there is a crushing amount of studies suggesting there are many healthy, and some unhealthy, things about gaming (SPOILER ALERT: But the healthy benefits seem to far outweigh the potential unhealthy aspects). So, don’t take my word for it. Get to that Googling.
Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to Rage Quit Darkest Dungeon before I can move onto XCOM2. Then I will finally have time for that glorious month long Mass Effect: Andromeda binge!