I don’t usually describe myself as “an addict.”
But I do know that I have an addictive personality.
For reasons I’m still trying to fully understand, I’ve often been able to pull myself out before things get too deep. Maybe that’s awareness. Maybe it’s timing. Maybe it’s a mix of support, privilege, and sheer luck. I don’t think it’s a talent, and I don’t think it makes me better than anyone else. It just happens to be part of my story — and I want to talk about it with honesty and compassion.
One thing we know for sure is that our brains are incredibly mouldable. The pathways we use over and over again get stronger, and the ones we don’t use weaken. It’s a lot like muscles — what we train grows, and what we ignore fades. From a behavioural perspective, we’re also wired to gravitate toward things that give us quick relief or pleasure. Immediate reinforcement is powerful. When something helps us feel better right now, our brain takes note. And when that pattern repeats, it becomes a loop.
I’m saying all of this not to sound clinical, but to remind us that addiction isn’t a moral failure — it’s a very human response to pain, relief, and learning history.
So here are a few things that have helped me when I notice myself slipping into patterns that don’t serve me.
1. Lean on support — in whatever form that takes
I struggle the most when I’m alone. That doesn’t always mean I need to be around people, but I do need connection of some kind. Sometimes that’s calling a friend. Sometimes it’s throwing myself into work. Sometimes it’s daydreaming or quietly planning future trips — imagining myself somewhere else, somewhere lighter.
I’m ADHD (as many of you know), and I’m always chasing a bit of dopamine. Novelty helps. It’s not a perfect solution, and yes, novelty itself can become a trap — but it’s one way I’ve learned to meet my brain where it’s at without falling into something more harmful. Distraction doesn’t mean avoidance forever; sometimes it’s just buying yourself a little space.
2. Practice affirmations — even if they feel silly
I know this one can sound cliché. Saying things over and over can feel awkward, forced, or like you’re pretending everything is fine when it’s not. But for me, affirmations aren’t about denying reality — they’re about gently offering my brain another option.
The things we repeat, we reinforce. Over time, those repeated thoughts start to feel more familiar, more accessible. Just like with any habit or behaviour, practice matters. When I come back to the same compassionate or hopeful messages again and again, I’m slowly making them easier to reach — especially in moments when my mind would otherwise default to self-criticism or hopelessness.
It’s not about instant change. It’s about repetition, patience, and intention. Little by little, those practiced thoughts become part of the internal landscape I return to when things get hard.
3. If you’re in a deep pit, you have to feel your feelings first
I don’t know about you, but when I reach for substances, I’m often doing exactly that — trying to escape. Escape from what isn’t always clear in the moment. Sometimes it’s the heaviness of emotions I haven’t been able to sort through yet. Sometimes it’s loneliness. Sometimes it’s just the exhaustion of carrying things I haven’t named.
The relief that comes with escaping can feel immediate, and in the short term, it can make the discomfort fade. But when we rely on that escape, we can end up circling the same pain again and again, without ever really moving through it. The feelings wait for us — often louder than before.
This is why feeling and processing emotions matters so much, even when it’s uncomfortable. Until those feelings are acknowledged, it’s hard for any other strategy to truly take hold. And if that feels overwhelming, bringing in a therapist or a trusted professional can be a powerful act of care, not a sign of weakness. You don’t have to carry it alone, and you don’t have to know exactly what you’re feeling right away to begin.
4. Don’t make permanent decisions on temporary emotions
There’s a phrase I come back to often: “Don’t make permanent decisions on temporary emotions.” When emotions are intense, they can shrink our perspective. Everything feels urgent. Everything feels final. In those moments, it’s easy to believe that whatever we’re feeling right now is how things will always be.
But emotions move. Even the heaviest ones eventually shift, soften, or change shape.
That doesn’t mean emotions should be ignored — they carry important information. They deserve to be felt, acknowledged, and understood. What helps me is giving myself time to process those feelings before acting on them, especially when the decision in front of me is a big one. Slowing down creates space between the feeling and the choice, and in that space, clarity often starts to emerge.
Processing first doesn’t mean suppressing or overthinking. It means letting the emotion exist without letting it drive the wheel. When we allow ourselves to feel fully and then return to the decision later — even a day or two later — we’re more likely to choose in ways that align with our long-term wellbeing rather than short-term relief.
Closing thoughts
I don’t share any of this because I have addiction figured out. I don’t. I share it because I’ve learned that awareness — even imperfect awareness — can create a small but meaningful pause. And sometimes, that pause is everything.
Our brains learn from repetition. The things we reach for when we’re hurting, the ways we talk to ourselves, the choices we make when emotions feel overwhelming — they all leave a mark. But that also means we’re not stuck. New patterns can be built slowly, gently, and with support. Not through willpower alone, and not through shame, but through care, connection, and curiosity.
If you’re struggling, it doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re human, and you’re responding the best way you know how in that moment. Change doesn’t start with judgment — it starts with noticing. Noticing what you’re reaching for, noticing what you’re trying to escape, and noticing what helps you feel even a little more grounded.
You don’t have to do all of this at once. You don’t have to get it right every time. Sometimes pulling yourself back looks like leaning on others, sometimes it looks like sitting with hard feelings, and sometimes it simply looks like choosing not to make a permanent decision in the middle of a temporary storm.
