Hello people! It feels good to be back in touch with you….as though you are my long-lost family. I have posted some comments, haphazardly, in response to recent comments of yours. For anyone still waiting for a reply from me, I’m sorry. I’ll be home in three more days and I will catch up soon. Or if I miss you and you want to hear from me, just nudge me with a note from the “contact” page.
This trip has been amazing: stressful, tiring, but also satisfying. I’ve stopped in a lot of cities, done a lot of interviews, a few readings, a few talks, written a couple of pieces while waiting at airports, and schmoozed with a lot of people, both media types and scientist types – addiction scientists – and even a few ex- or wish-they-were-ex- addicts. They are – we are – everywhere.
For example, last night, after I finished talking to an audience of about 200 people (scientists/practitioners and “normal” people), one young woman comes up to me while I’m packing up my laptop, and says unsurprising things, like “…really interesting talk. I do research on rats…self-administration of nicotine…test for increased activity in cholinergic neurons…etc, etc.” After a short pause, she continues, “I have a problem, too. I guess you’d call it an addiction,” and she looks down shyly. Then she looks up and our eyes lock and I recognize her as someone just like me, a much younger female version, but there she is, divulging her struggles to a stranger. Struggles with an eating disorder, a self-destructive compulsion, and I notice how thin her hand is after it’s just shaken mine. I look at her more closely and see her anxiety, all wrapped up in her skinny body, I notice the openness in her face, and I instantly like her: she’s got the courage and dedication to fight addiction and study it at the same time. I admire her, feel for her, and hope that she will win in the end.
Last night’s talk was the climax of my trip. It was held in the main auditorium of the main psychiatric institute in Toronto, called CAMH, Centre for Addiction and Mental Health. I always thought that was a weird name, as if they’re dispensing addiction and/or mental health – take your choice. Anyway, the posters advertised Marc Lewis, no title, with my face next to a big picture of the book, and in huge letters: Memoirs of an Addicted Brain. Three TV cameras were being set up when I entered the auditorium. I was pretty nervous. But once I started speaking, and once I started to focus in on the faces of the audience members – interested, intelligent, and engaged, with friendly expressions, no hint of the suspicion or judgement I’d half-expected – once I got going, I lost my nervousness and the words started to flow.
When I was done people clapped and clapped, and I felt like a star. But even at that proud moment I was very much aware, as I had been all day, that I was standing in the building where I’d done my research, my rat research, for my Bachelor’s (undergrad) thesis, some 34 years ago. And this was the place where I first got serious about stealing drugs.
The halls and the stairwells still looked familiar, and when my host pulled out his master key, on the way back from the auditorium, I vividly recalled the days when I’d had my own master key…and used it to go from office to office, lab to lab, late at night, after I’d finished with my rats…looking for drugs. And finding them! Or else grabbing a prescription pad off someone’s desk, ready for a little art work, imitating doctors’ classic messy handwriting, working in those Latin symbols, so I could bounce into a pharmacy later that night, coughing as convincingly as possible, and find my way to a bottle of Hycodan or Tussionex.
So I was a little nervous all day yesterday, not only about doing my biggest public lecture of the tour, not only about doing it on TV (yikes!), but about being recognized or found out somehow. I kept imagining that some old researcher would come walking down the hall toward me and his eyebrows would suddenly shoot up in surprise, then drop down in an angry scowl. So you’re the one! You’re the guy who stole all the morphine. You’re the reason the supply kept dwindling through the winter of 1978. Caught you!
Actually, the morphine came from the basement of the Psychology building, a few blocks away. But I’d scoop out a gram or two (we’re talking pure morphine sulfate, powder, in a couple of jars the size of peanut butter jars) and bring it with me to the CAMH building (then called the Clarke Institute). And I’d take a little break, somewhere around rat #15, when things were getting really boring – except for the wave of excitement building in my stomach – and I’d take my precious powder, mix it with water in a small plastic vial, shake it, strain it, load it into a syringe, and shoot it into my arm in a tiny locked room, with only the rats to judge me.
I did this for almost a year. And of course I always wondered when I’d get caught. When would someone notice something, either here or in the Psych building? When would someone blow the whistle on this addict disguised as a psychology student?
I finally did get busted, about a year later, but not here in this building. I had left, intact, with degree in hand, and the shit didn’t hit the fan until graduate school in another city, when I began to steal from doctors’ offices, not from the cupboards of an underground lab. So only a few people around here could ever have known about the other me, the real me.
Tonight in my talk, I was both the person I was then and the person I am now, a weird hybrid – drug addict and neuroscientist – standing up at the podium, talking about how my book might be able to help people get a better handle on addiction. You take the uncompromising cookie-cutter of neural findings and sprinkle liberally with the complexities of real life, everyday life, captured in a memoir. Then you can get to addiction from both angles at the same time and you can make a little more sense of it than either perspective on its own. I talked about addiction as a developmental process, a self-perpetuating preference turned compulsion, a creeping, encroaching synaptic network overtaking the orbitofrontal cortex and striatum, crowding out other synapses that represented other goals (like friendship, success at school, or even just pizza and beer). I showed a picture of ivy proliferating from a few tendrils to a bushy mass.
And I talked about you! I talked about my blog, and all the people I’ve met through it. I talked about the guts it takes to fight something as insidious as addiction. I talked about ego fatigue and I tried to paint a picture of how hard we work, we addicts, to outsmart our impulses. Just try holding your arm straight out to the side, I told them. No problem…..for the first five minutes. But try it for an hour. Try it hour after hour, day after day. I sang your praises, dear readers. I cheered for you. I told them: contrary to popular belief, rather than being lazy, or weak, or self-indulgent, addicts work way harder than most people. Because they are determined to say NO to an overwhelming compulsion or desire, to overcome ego fatigue, to outsmart their cravings by changing something fundamental about how they view themselves, how they attend to the world, how they talk to themselves. They are the bravest people I know.
I told them how much I have learned from the people who write into my blog: about addiction, about recovery, and about the far reaches of imagination, courage, and determination – the strategies and eventual victories we achieve through hard work – so that we can feel decent, normal, better than normal, proud of ourselves…the way I felt tonight.
Thank you for that.
Informed by unparalleled neuroscientific insight and written with his usual flare, Marc Lewis’s The Biology of Desire effectively refutes the medical view of addiction as a brain disease. A bracing and informative corrective to the muddle that now characterizes public and professional discourse on this topic.” —Gabor Maté, M.D., author of In The Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters With Addiction
Yes, hard work, persistence, courageous.
Reversing all the “yes’s” with “no’s”
Or, positively expressed, stronger “yes’s” to a more expansive life, beyond self-absorbed. Listened to you at Book Inc in Berkeley. Gracias for spreads your story and message, like Johnnie Apple Seed!
Hey thanks! So you were there. I wonder which face was yours. Yes, it does feel a bit like Johnny Appleseed. Except can you be on a mission without a moral? I don’t feel like I have a moral to spread, but I sure do like meeting all these ex or half-ex addicts, here on the blog, doing readings and talks, and all the rest of it. We are an interesting crew, and it’s great to try to find new ways to talk and think about addiction — about us.
All best,
Marc
Thanks for your reply:
I was the one at Books Inc in Berkeley who made reference to newspaper article on Bruce Bochy, coach of SF Giants breaking addiction to chewing tobacco via hynotherapy.
I also asked a question in reference to your term ego depletion, but I think this got lost in other comments.
Is this a correct understanding: after numerous giving in to “temptations,” one feels almost hopeless and gives up trying (the sobriety/recovery muscle has atrophied!)
And my question was: How does one combat this, or counteract ego depletion?
Perhaps the answer is below, and what you described by putting post its around with “No”
Numerous litting decisions of “no” is like doing push ups, building up that muscle, until it gets stronger? Is this an apt metaphor? How would you say in terms of neuroscience?
For example, I have a kind of disorganization addiction, amounting to not putting or filing papers away on a timely basis, then looking around for them; coming back from a meeting with some action items jotted down, and then not transferring them to my master To Do list, and then not finding the list and the items getting missed, etc. etc. I’m retiring in a couple months, and have to “get organized”
toss out no longer useful files, putting valuable information into some organized fashion ,etc.
And I almost feel, “What the hey… there’s just too much crap, I don’t know where to begin… and I just don’t have it in me to get it together.” Does this sound like ego depletion applied to “disorganization addiction” (i.e. lazy habits built up over years)?
Hi again, George. I think of ego depletion as more present tense. It is the weakening of resolve that takes place over the course of hours, as we try to fight impulses and compulsions, try to stay in control, and eventually give up. The neural mechanism seems to have to do with the loss of neurotransmitter fuel in the anterior cingulate cortex, the part of the brain that is in charge of self-monitoring, conflict monitoring, directed attention and so forth. I get into that in the book.
What you describe also sounds familiar, but I think it’s a different scale. Yes, the sense of having failed many times in the past does make it harder to BELIEVE that one can be successful in the present. And that belief is so important for staying in control of one’s behaviour. I agree that this is a really serious issue for addictions of many stripes. In fact, it pretty much captures the “plateau” stage, when one just goes along with the addiction and stops trying to pull out.
Thanks for your interest, and good luck with your mess!
Tears welled up as I read this. Congratulations on a successful tour! But more importantly, it is thrilling to hear you talk about these experiences from all sides, integrating your many selves into a more authentic whole. And I have a feeling that this blog community that you’ve help build will continue to self-organize into something truly unique and real and good. Your affection for “us” is heart-warming and inspiring and I love watching you develop your sea legs for this blogging thing. Safe travels and looking forward to hearing more about your trip soon…
Ah shucks. You will certainly hear more soon…..
Marc! You’re a star! I bet you didn’t think that stealing morphine from the Psychology building was going to make you famous!
Thank you, Marc, for providing ex-addicts (and addicts alike) a community to discuss and learn more about our struggles and how to overcome them, because knowledge truly is power, and the knowledge gained through your book and through the discussions on this blog has yielded a powerful weapon to combat addiction.
Someday, I hope to see this blog really take off. Perhaps a few of us will move on to get our own Psychology degrees so that we can better find the answers to the wealth of questions that are posed here. I know that that’s what I plan on doing.
And mostly, I don’t think any of us could truly appreciate the time you take to respond to our posts. I think we’ve gathered that you are a very busy man right now, and like the family you referred to us as, we are proud of you!
Look forward to hearing more about your travels! And let us know if there are any videos of your talks or anything online, we’d love to see them.
Thank you, Daniel! Those are the most heart-warming words I could hope to hear. I’m so glad that you feel that way about knowledge, and that you find this blog to be a helpful foundation for accumulating that knowledge. You know, I keep emphasizing to different interviewers and audiences that this knowledge that we’re trying to construct here….it can only come from binding together the most honest, painful, detailed accounts of what addiction is like — what it really feels like — as it shifts from one stage to the next and then back again — with what we are learning about the brain. One or the other source simply can’t make it.
And it’s a unique problem, because scientists are supposed to be reductionistic and objective: that’s part of their job. But that is pretty much the polar opposite of exploring and sharing our intimate subjective experiences. And yet that’s the goal here. It’s my goal, and the fact that you share it, you and my other readers, helps me to feel more and more sure that this IS the right way to go, or at least ONE right way to go, that this is going to matter.
Yes, I do spend a lot of time replying to your replies, but I get so much out of it. I am learning so much about the lives of addicts, and I can bring those sparkling, vivid images back to the brain and then bring the brain back to you, back to life. So I am not complaining! This time-consuming project is the most rewarding and exciting work I’ve done in a long time.
Very best,
Marc
Hi Doc:
It is a pressing sociocultural requirement that this issue be addressed in words, deeds and medications.
When you can make time or listen to “Outliers” by Gladwell (audible.com “like”) you can see how all this has lined up with you not for you. It is you AND the message and in some ways you are the message in a MacLuhanesque sense.
This is very fortunate for all of us, believe me.
To achieve breakthroughs in the 60s is a very welcome experience for which I am endlessly appreciative!
Please enjoy in order to keep up the good work!
Thank you, Mike. I feel like you really get me. The enjoyment and excitement and enthusiasm and intelligence and creativity and the sheer unexpectedness of what I get from readers like you….well it does indeed keep me going. And yeah, I pretty much embody what I’m selling here. I’m still the addict I’ve always been…but I just happen to be in control for now.
In fact, I’ve been thinking more and more of giving up my day job, or at least cutting back, so that I can spend more time writing and blogging. Another book is being hatched. The engines are revving up. And I will get to “Outliers” — it’s on my (very long and winding) list. Got to keep sucking it in if you’re going to keep spitting it out.
Thanks for your ongoing support and your great ideas.
You have a core of kindness…. odd ,that 🙂
As a 65 we can say this as an observational sentence; Good knowledge and information is expanding very fast… really good knowledge and we have never see this quality is such volumes.
As you your future course the question is how to stay even vaguely current with the intersecting influences when we are at an age when we have to prioritize.
Gone are the youthful days of, “I’ll just learn it all!”
So little time.
If you read Thinking Fast and Slow and you see what this guy and his friends are cranking out after about 20 years of sharply higher quality. To my perception this is “mission critical” stuff for me, anyway. ??!!! – that sort of reaction.
Point is I cannot know your take but this is NOT sort of relevant, kind of interesting stuff. It is like your book on first read 🙂 WHAT was that, say that gain please!
Marc, congratulations!
The CAMH talk sound like a crowning and marks a new step ahead
in your receiving recognition in this exciting field.
Maybe you could post your talk (transcript) or a link to it.
Best.
Thanks, Nik. I could try to post that talk. Let me work on it. It was a good talk, or at least that’s how it felt to me. Thanks for the encouragement, and stay tuned.
Coming up!
As a parent of a young adult who is struggling with addiction to heroine I appreciate your insight so much. I heard you speak on MPR in Minnesota and was captivated and enlightened. I sent my daughter a link to your blog in hope that it will bring her some strength knowing that there is life after use: she has been through treatment 3 times already, but I will never give up believing that she has the strength to overcome this struggle. Your description of the strength and courage it takes to overcome addiction is beautiful. Thank you for your very important, and enlightening, work and sharing your story with the world.
Thanks very much, Shannon. There are a few addiction memoirs out there, and the common thread is that people DO recover. It can take a long time — it took me a long time — but eventually the life of addiction gets so aversive and boring that most people will find a way out. I wish you and your daughter success, and I hope she might tune into this blog to get a sense of the variety of approaches people take to get clean. There is no one way.
Congratulations! for the work and inspiration you are generating in the lives of so
many fellow travelers. It is so heartwarming to see how many open, vulnerable souls who have themselves or through loved ones, experienced and suffered the devastation ofaddiction, are embracing and being empowered with the language the science has
spawned to re-negotiate the challenge. I don’t believe that simply mastering the neuroscience,
(Sorry about that)
would have given you the credentials to inspire the rest of us without the personal suffering and growth you have seen.
Thank you!
Thanks, Michael. It’s true that my credentials come from two very different sources. It’s like needing two press cards in order to get past the gate. The combination between the personal and the scientific is proving to be very powerful to a lot of people, both recovering addicts (or “almost recovering”) as well as the vast community of therapists, counsellors, researchers, and policy makers who want to undersand addiction almost as badly. This was a marriage made in heaven, so it seems, or maybe made in hell but it is going up in the world!