The Annihilation of the Better Self

Addiction is self destructive. To a non-addict, self destruction seems irrational.

I seek to annihilate my better self, at least for a brief moment. The pleasure, the intoxication, these are just vehicles to do that, they’re not the end in itself. Every time I engage in my vice it becomes a hammer, with which I bash my nagging better self. The me that wants to change, the me that knows best. The me that knows that I am in charge of my life. I want him to shut up, I want him to let me pretend that I can’t, that my stunted emotional growth is unbeatable. Instead I beat him.

But he comes back. He always does. Just like the urge to silence him goes away and comes back too. It’s a cycle. These are two parts dependent on each other, like a toxic relationship. In fact we could say that addiction is a toxic relationship happening within me. Understanding that my better self does not have all the tools to get me out, to stop it, is crucial. He has a blind spot. Much like a parent who knows better than their child, yet can’t effectively communicate to them.

So what do I do? I don’t despair. That’s the first step. I stop pretending. When the me with a hammer shows up, I don’t act surprised. I don’t cower in the corner. I acknowledge him. I welcome him. I talk to him. I hear him out. When he’s not near I don’t pretend that he doesn’t exist, or that he’ll never be back. I become more and more attentive to his footsteps, I can hear him from further distances. I learn about him and what makes him not want, not need to go on a frenzy. Sure you can come back. Sure you can sit down. And yes you can take control of my hands, but let’s talk about what you’re doing. And maybe you can come, you can hang out, but let’s just not take control of the hands. Grip that hammer, feel the handle, feel the weight, but don’t lift it. Or maybe lift it, but don’t swing it. Feel its weight conditioning your shoulder as it goes up, but don’t discharge. Maybe if we talk enough the urge will pass and you can drop the hammer. And if you can’t, that’s okay, we can try next time.