Life ADD

I have life ADD. I started to realize this a few years ago when I noticed how addicted I was to change. Many people, from my observation, are afraid of change. In fact, I think that it scares the hell out of them. From the time we are children, we all, to some degree, establish a buffer of normalcy around ourselves and seek security in our own daily rituals and routines. As we grow life becomes known to us, predictable, and hopefully under our control.

This sanctuary of the known—as it were—is not the place for me (at least I used to think so). Perhaps it has something to do with my restless, hyper-frame, MTV generation, who grew up over-stimulated and over-entertained. Perhaps it has something to do with my genetic wiring and the fact that few people in my family are good at sitting still. Perhaps it is my commitment to an unbridled sense of curiosity, etcetera, e tal. Whatever the reason, I like change. I am addicted to the feeling of tasting and touching something new. Take my academic interests for example. When I was a kid I wanted to be a Paleontologist, study dinosaur bones, and walk around with a big hat carrying a trowel. Then in college I discovered archaeology and medieval history, hoping to play Indiana Jones and speak with an English accent. Then there was cultural anthropology, African studies, public history, museum studies. Then when I figured out that all of those former professions made you poor, I started getting into business, cultural heritage tourism, and the hospitality industry. Then when I figured out that all of those professions made you boring, I started getting into…you are starting to get the picture?

This is just one subset of my life that reflects this love, nay this addiction to change. Part of this process, I realize, is parcel to one’s twenties—that time in one’s life where you are still getting to know who you are. Yet, as much as I defend the position of Life ADD, where you are willing to take risks and continue getting to know the world, it certainly has its disadvantages.

Elizabeth Gilbert in her book Committed discusses this topic, albeit indirectly, looking to the root cause of such behavior. The problem, she highlights, is that we’re all full of desire; it is the very hallmark of our emotional existence, and it can lead to our downfall—and to the downfall of others. This rather Buddhist way of looking at the world, in the context of Life ADD makes sense, for, if we were happy with what we had why would we need to go looking for happiness or ‘newness’ elsewhere?

The answer to that question, Gilbert writes, is infatuation (the drug of lovers). Infatuation, the state that arises when you meet someone new, is the most perilous aspect of human desire. It actually physically alters your brain chemistry. Brain scans of infatuated lovers, scientists have discovered, look remarkably similar to the brain scans and mood swings of cocaine addicts, with measurable chemical effects on the brain. And just like any junkie, infatuated lovers will go to unhealthy, humiliating, and even physically dangerous lengths to procure their narcotic. (PUA community this one is for you). Some anthropologists argue, she continues, that the human species needs infatuation as a reproductive tool in order to keep us reckless enough to risk the hazards of pregnancy so that we can constantly replenish our ranks.

Gilbert talks about infatuation in the context of relationships, but I would take it a step further. I think Life ADD, or the need for change, is also an addiction. For me at least, finding something new is the same thing as finding someone new. It feels good, tastes good; it gets you high. But the problem with this is two fold. When it comes to that something, jumping around from one thing to another like a finicky cheshire cat in heat means you never actually get anywhere. The knowledge you build may be broad but it remains limited, and it prohibits life building (that steady climb to material and financial success).

When it comes to love, Gilbert concludes, infatuation is not quite the same thing; “it’s more like love’s shady second cousin who’s always borrowing money and can’t hold down a job”. When you become infatuated with somebody, you’re not really looking at that person; you’re just captivated by your own reflection, intoxicated by a dream of completion that you have projected on a virtual stranger. Narcissistic love.

So what’s the solution? I don’t think that I’m ever going to get rid of my Life ADD completely. Life without passion, without curiosity, without change is pretty dog gone boring, and I think most people would admit to that. But the thing about any drug is that it must be used in moderation. The feeling of completion that it offers is just an illusion. If you shoot up on a new relationship, a new place, or person, or thing today—tomorrow is going to feel just as hollow (worse because you are with a hangover!). This is superficial love; self love.

So ok. I admit it. I have life ADD. I am an addict. This is the first step, I assume, on the long road to recovery.