Day 263: Sex Addict or Douchebag? We're All Addicts We Just Make Better Choices

Tiger Woods is a sex addict or so the story goes. Tiger has completely shredded his personal life with bad choices and worse judgment (dude you’re famous, of course they’re going to rat you out for the cash and their 15 minutes). Still, this is a man’s personal life and I don’t want to know the details or hear his apology. The only people that should hear his heartfelt apologies are those involved and close to him. As a people, for some reason we feel we have a right to be involved in this family’s personal drama and now we’ve got the world’s number one golfer claiming he’s a sex addict and needs help. Yeah, I’ll bet.

I’m not completely against the realities of addiction and the possible hereditary link, but I do believe that we all have certain addictive tendencies that are innately part of us. Some of us are food addicts, control freaks, substance abusers, sex addicts, clean freaks, Jesus freaks, adrenaline junkies . . . you name a behavior and I bet there is someone out there compulsively doing it. I believe that addiction is born of a love of something and a character weakness. You love the way it feels when you bury the pain with pills or alcohol and it makes you want to do it over and over again. I like that feeling too, but I can’t be drunk all the time because I get wicked hangovers and I’m not crafty enough to score pills or other drugs regularly. I choose not to let those behaviors rule me, but I have other weaknesses.

I have a feeling Tiger was standing up there apologizing sincerely for hurting his family, business partners, friends and for embarrassing himself and those in the golfing world. I also think he was probably thinking to himself: “I can’t believe I have to say I’m frigging addict. So I scored some hot chicks because I got a little cocky and lonely on the road and there are always screaming babies at home. I’m a douche, but fuck, I’m not a sex addict, I’m just horny and have no judgment in the heat of the moment.” Sex addicts typically do not carry on three year affairs and tell people they love them. Tiger just sounds like a guy who got caught up in his own hype and he was coated in Teflon for a while.

My intention is not to belittle addiction, I know people that have and are suffering from addictions, but I still believe that when you give someone a lifeline that says the way out is to admit you’re powerless you’re creating your own monster. You are not powerless. You are weak, yes, just like I get an image of mashed potatoes in my head and cannot settle until I gorge myself then regret it instantly. The craving and drive is irresistible and that’s just for damn potatoes! We have cravings for different things and different levels of willpower to guide us. At some point, these things are a choice. You give in to the addiction, it doesn’t rule you and Tiger’s not a damn sex addict, he’s just a dick.

One final word, I know a little something about sexual addiction. I understand what motivates a person to use sex for closeness, comfort, anger, happiness, and every other conceivable emotion. Sex feels good and bad and sometimes it feels like both at the same time. We all use sex in our life. Procreation or intimacy with the one we love, to prove something to ourselves or others, for money for those lost and in need, or to signify our love and devotion. Sex is a tool even in the most loving and committed relationships and we all use it. Is it compulsive? Sure, it can be, but that is a choice just like taking another drag on that cigarette you swore not to smoke or eating another doughnut or throwing up a doughnut.

We all struggle with our demons, but God or a step program or detox or a public apology will not cure us, it’s a choice. Like the fat woman who loses 300 pounds, no one puts her in detox she just digs down deep, sucks up her emotional baggage and starts making new choices. If Tiger wants to apologize he shouldn’t blame it on addiction, he should blame it on his being a douchebag. Then again, I think he should have said fuck your apology and dealt with his wife personally.

Day 262: How Can I Go to Grad School When I Can't Even Graduate Life?

I like to think of myself as a student of life. I believe that the personal experiences we have are as important, and likely more so, than our formal educations and professional resumes. Travel, relationships, surprising conversations with strangers, leisurely fall afternoons in the park – these are my classrooms, the places I learn things about life I couldn’t get anywhere else. No one pays me for these experiences, however, the rent is due and a touching story about a day in Venice won’t cut it. So what will? If you are not one of the lucky ones who found a way to make what you love your career, is it possible to build a professionally successful life without compromising yourself?

My return to school as a graduate student is imminent. I am lazy about studying for the GRE (when did math get so hard) and I’ve yet to contact any of my references for their letters of recommendation, but I am fully committed to attending. The question I now face, is if I can build on my life experiences and my passions to build a viable career. Grad school is a mixed bag. On one hand, an advanced degree will look great on a resume, but on the other I feel like I am forced to choose a degree program that isn’t one hundred percent what I want. At some point, we have to grow up and realize that just because we love something does not mean it will get us what we need to live. Hopes, dreams, and passions do not pay the bills and there is no yellow brick road to show us where to go.

At an information session for prospective students, I was heartened to learn that most of them were not as far into the process as I am. At least I’ve begin preparing, starting writing letters, and know all the deadlines. This was a room full of people who like me, were at a crossroads as to where to go next. For some, career and educational progression is more obvious, but to others, changing career directions or wanting and needing to go back to school, but not really knowing for what can be daunting. I met people that fit all these categories today and it was nice to see that along with the determined and driven there were some other floundering professionals.

I don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life. I know that I want to continue traveling, and meeting interesting people, loving those close to me and experiencing all the world has to offer. I also need a career or at least a really big lottery payout. I am going to grad school with a fuzzy picture of what that means and where it will position me. I haven’t even written my statement of purpose yet, because honestly, I don’t have one. What I do have, is the knowledge that even though I’m floundering, I’m smart and I’m keeping my head above water. So I’ll keep treading until I find the place I want and need to land.

Day 261: Maybe the President Should be Blacker

I happened to be watching a YouTube video of Keith Olbermann doing an editorial piece about prejudice in our country his claim is that rather than being eradicated, it has only been tamed. I agree with him on that point, but then he said this, “. . . our society still emphasizes our differences rather than our similarities.” Again, I believe he’s right on the money, we don’t like to talk about it, but we are still fighting our racist roots and homophobia. What I take issue with, is the implied fact that differences are necessarily a bad thing.

We have a black President, a true African-American in his heritage. There have been comments made on both sides of the aisle regarding Mr. Obama’s more benign traditionally black characteristics. He is light skinned, doesn’t have a typical black dialect, is clean and well-spoken and whatever else we’ve heard fellow politicians and pundits comment on. It seems to me like we are trying to whitefy the President. (I realize I just made that word up, but it works for this. Just make sure to use three syllables in the pronunciation, not two.) Why is it so important to us that he not be different? Can a President we view as truly black not be a capable leader? Darker skin, different dialect and . . . what, he’d be unqualified because he looks and speaks the way we expect black people to? Do you think Armageddon will happen if he one day shows up in baggy jeans?

We are a nation of differences and what unites us is not our similarities, but the very existence of the differences we now strive to ignore. We are Italian, German, Irish, Latin, Asian and Indian. We are black and brown, and yellow and white. I know so many people who strive to promote their ethnic heritage. They are American, yes, but they are proud to bring their Italian or Chinese or whatever culture into their lives, they don’t feel they need to apologize for it. Yet we expect minorities to almost apologize for their differences. Speak English but make sure it’s our approved English, don’t act too gay, don’t be too black or too Hispanic or too anything.

Our similarities are wonderful and they do bring us together in countless ways, but we learn and grow because of our differences. I don’t want a world of Ame’s I want you to be you (except for a maybe a handful or so really annoying people I’d totally like to change, oh and most of the ignorant mountain folk and Southerners and probably more than a few Ann Coulter-esque devotees, but everyone else should go on being themselves). We love rainbows and yet we seem to want to take the color out of the world and the variety out of cultural and sexual differences we don’t like. Without homosexuality who would the Christians rail against (okay, everyone else)? Maybe we should stop trying to avoid what makes us different and work instead on making ourselves okay with not being the same.

Day 260: Do You Know This Girl?

Do you recognize me? Do I look like someone you know? Should I know you? I ask myself these questions a lot, but I’ve never been able to answer them. As a child of adoption, the woman I am today is still missing a part of herself. I love my family, I would never choose to change the past and to not be adopted, but it’s time to rectify the injustice that such secrecy has inflicted upon me. I’m not asking for my birth family to love me, but I do have a right to know where I came from and I think I’m finally ready to begin that search in earnest.

It’s an interesting question: where do we come from? I’ve written before on nature vs. nurture so I won’t go into that again, but I do wonder how much of my life or any of our lives would change simply by discovering a family member we didn’t know about. So much of my life and my emotional baggage is connected to my adoption, but as an adult it is no longer about fantasies of new families and siblings to play with or money for college. I am all grown up and I have wonderful parents and a great brother. At this point, it’s more a healthy curiosity and really a desire more to know about any potential siblings than the parents themselves.

We take our brothers and sisters for granted because we can and that is a wonderful luxury to have. I certainly do it with my brother Tommy who is not blood related, but is my family in every other way. I may never have the opportunity to bond with my biological parents, but I long for a sister or more brothers to joke with, compare stories with and to be friends. I believe that siblings have a connection and I’ve seen that in action with my own brother, despite all our differences. We all put ourselves out there to some extent on a daily basis. I feel like I am auditioning to be part of a family and what really sucks is that this should have been my birth right. I don’t need them, but I want them in my life and I hope they are out there to be found.

This is where all of you come in. I need to network the web and my friends. If you or your Mom knows anyone who gave up a baby girl through Catholic Social Services (now Catholic Charities) born in December 1972, or a boy born in August 1970 (I always look for my brother’s family too) let me know. If you have any resources in the Catholic Charities that might be willing to help, please pass my information along or contact me with theirs. A reunion search is a long and sometimes expensive endeavor. I have been looking half-heartedly for years, but now it’s game on. Someone out there knows me and it’s time I know them too.

Day 259: There's No Such Thing as Ghosts

Every once in a while I am forced to acknowledge that my belief system interferes with my life in negative or disappointing way. On a recent trip to Savannah, Georgia such a paradox occurred and it has me wondering if the pursuit of life’s pleasures trumps ideology. I make no secret of the fact that my once firmly held spirituality and belief in a God has evaporated in adulthood. I believe in science and nature, but not souls and heavenly beings. It’s a life change that I take very seriously, but never in such a way that I judge those who believe differently. My big problem with my own beliefs, however, is that now how can I believe in reincarnation, ghosts or mysticism?

In Savannah, we went on a haunted tour of the city that toured a local inn, a historic graveyard and a mansion featured in the television series “Ghosthunters.” It seemed like a fun excursion and since I have a long history of enjoying stories about spirits and reincarnation I didn’t hesitate. We were on the tour less than five minutes when I realized my mistake: atheists cannot believe in ghosts because we do not believe in souls. This was kind of a bummer. The stories were all long shots anyway and most had fairly obvious alternative answers, but my sudden realization had a much bigger implication on my life and I’m both surprised and embarrassed that I did not comprehend it earlier.

Much of my younger life I spent fighting against traditional religion. My Catholic roots did nothing but ostracize me from organized religion, so I sought alternative belief systems. A neighbor got me into meditation and spirituality and it was through her that I began my fascination with reincarnation and positive spiritual forces. Rather than being scared of ghosts or spirits, I hoped for an experience with them one day and I read books by such authors as Ruth Montgomery and Edgar Cayce voraciously. I began to lose sight of my spirituality in the last few years and eventually, I stopped believing in a God altogether, but I never gave much thought to the other things I was giving up along with my spiritual beliefs.

It wasn’t until a cheesy and overpriced ghost tour in Georgia that I realized how truly alone one is without religious beliefs of some kind. Not having a God is something I’ve accepted, as is the idea that death precedes only nothingness and not a second life of souls and eternity. I got all that and was okay with it, but I didn’t think about how I was also cutting myself off from interesting and fun to fascinate about possibilities like reincarnation. I want to think of myself as the culmination of countless other life experiences. I love the stories of children who know how to play an instrument, speak a different language, and find their way to foreign places without any instruction or research. Those kids used to be proof of a past life’s influence, but now they are just examples of the brain’s mysterious capabilities.

I am not going to rethink my beliefs because of a tourist attraction any more than a deeply religious person would renounce God because of a scientific argument. What I am going to do is to rethink the excuses I once created for myself. I can no longer attribute certain characteristics to experiences of lives past. There will be no visitations by ghosts. The séance from when I was 10 did not prove the existence of spirits and no one is an “old soul.” We are simply the product of our life experiences and the care we received growing up. I lost something on that tour I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was still clinging to and though my beliefs have not changed, it still makes me just a little bit sad to finally have to let go completely.

Day 258: I Love You Enough to Do Nothing

Valentine’s Day is a completely fake, man-made, 100% commercialized holiday. There are no known rituals for this “holiday” aside from the requisite consumerism. We buy cards, gifts, flowers, dinner or whatever else we think our beloved might enjoy. Today is a day for love and lovers and yet we seem more concerned with shopping to please people than to actually express love. In case this last statement confuses you, I’ll spell it out: pleasing those we love should not necessitate a purchase. This year there were no flowers or cards, no fancy dinners or candlelight and it’s a change that brings me comfort. Maybe not buying tokens of affection is the one certain sign that real love is what I’ve finally found.

Why do we do it anyway? Why buy flowers or candy or go to dinner on a night we know will be one of the busiest? Are we so insecure with our relationships that if those flowers do not materialize it must mean our partner doesn’t care? Can roses and chocolates take the place of heartfelt sentiment? Maybe some days all we really need is a simple sign that we are appreciated and that we are seen and loved by the ones we love the most. In that case, then yes, I believe even the most stereotyped or prepackaged of messages can do the trick. When you have the entire year to plan, maybe a card just doesn’t cut it. Be original.

My year has been a tumultuous one. Jeff was deployed and much of that time we were facing the first real issues in our marriage. Serious relationship concerns are never easy, but try dealing with them from around the world and when one of you is at war and the other is drunk. We all have problems or subjects of contention with the one we love; Jeff and I are no different. What I find most reassuring about this Valentine’s Day, just shy of three months reunited after Jeff’s return to the states, is that we’ve done absolutely nothing to celebrate. We don’t need to. Being together after so long apart and facing the first real chink in our marital armor made this one a big deal, and we showed it by not doing a damn thing.

Today was normal, real and wonderful in its honesty and simplicity. He loves me, I love him and we are devoted to our love and one another. This year I didn’t need flowers, I needed time together in a completely normal way. There will be other dinners, expectations of flowers, desperation for chocolate and hopefully more fantastic and heartfelt gifts. I do love a good card, be it homemade or Hallmark, but sometimes what we really, truly need to remind us that we are loved is the comfort that just another day can give us.