My experiences with addiction have mostly been as a sex and love addict. I’ve also struggled with food, alcohol and drugs, shopping, pornography, and excessive use of my phone. I believe we are all addicts to a greater or lesser extent. Many of us are compulsively seeking a means to an end, scarcely enjoying a single moment that is here, now. This is addiction.
Over my many years of self-inquiry, trying to understand my inner workings, and, more recently, during my active addiction recovery, something important in my own cycle of addiction has become quite clear to me: feeling alone is a big problem for me—not necessarily being alone, but feeling alone, and the thoughts that accompany this feeling.
The tragedy of addiction is that it thrives in isolation, so a person who feels alienated and disconnected from others may be more likely to seek relief through a favoured addictive behaviour, which in turn leads to more alienation, disconnection, and loneliness. The cycle continues in a spiralling downward fashion.
During a recent lecture in an Anthropology class I’m in, the professor was speaking of the need humans—and all other primates—have for touch. She also commented on the reality that, with the exception of romantic and parent-child relationships, North American culture is among the least openly affectionate cultures. As someone who can experience compelling cravings for the warm body of another human being, this struck me.
We are meant to be social—to be close, loved, supported, accepted, hugged, and held—and to be connected to other people, to nature, and to ourselves. This is part of the key to healing from addiction and of the effectiveness of 12-step programs: it connects us with others in a real way. We will not recover in isolation. We will not find more joyful, purposeful relationships and life experiences by hiding what we consider to be too shameful or embarrassing to share.
In short, we need each other. We do not need any one person, as a love addict can be convinced of, and we do not even need sex on a regular basis—although it can be a wonderful thing. But we need community, affection, and open, honest relationships.
First and foremost, however, we need to find compassion for ourselves, in whatever condition we may find ourselves in. My journey of recovery began after two years with a violent man who had terminal brain cancer. I was all but broken.
Now, however, I find myself steadily, though imperfectly, in the process of building a community of loving, supportive friends and family. And, hopefully, one day we will be known as a society that hugs more.