We’ve all gone over to the bright, shiny side

Or, maybe I'm eating too many carrots

I’ve often said that I’m never bored … with pride … as if I should get a gold star from life for my curiosity and enthusiasm. There is never a moment lacking for something to explore, read, write, or ponder.

For example, this morning as I was called away from the keyboard for a mandatory moment, the title words above marched through my brain and launched my pre-planned day down an unexpected path. I felt the faucet of anticipation open and creative energy gushed. Who knows what insights might lie just around the corner?

However, this morning’s inspiration was followed quickly by the sound of brakes screeching to a halt. Is that a good thing? I wondered about that surge of anticipation and delight at having a new thought path to follow.

Is that really what I’m here for … to be in a constant state of engaged mental arousal, constantly looking for the next bit of wisdom, the next shiny idea that has a potential use as if life were an infinite jig saw puzzle and my responsibility is to find every last piece?

The word that finds a foothold on this precarious perch of questions is Dopamine, a word I have a budding relationship with because of my never-boredness insistence on listening to two-hour neuroscience podcasts from Andrew Huberman. 

Dopamine is a neurotransmitter known as a feel-good chemical which stimulates our nervous system when we do something that feels good or brings us pleasure. This could be food, sex, shopping, or anything else we enjoy. Obviously, getting a “dopamine hit” is a good thing … or is it? 

The problem with dopamine is that it is insatiable and demanding. It always wants MORE and throws a tantrum unless it gets it, thus creating a pleasure/pain cycle that sometimes leads to addiction. Fortunately, our systems have a dopamine baseline that’s relatively stable or else we would all become uncontrollably addicted to whatever brings us pleasure.

What’s that got to do with boredom and my attachment to mental activity, learning, and that endless search for the next piece of the puzzle? I think it’s like eating too many carrots. Carrots are good for you, however, too many carrots can turn you orange. I think I have arrived at that state of too many carrots.

Curiosity is a good thing. Learning, exploring and discovering the world and how it works is a good thing. These things bring me pleasure and joy … and, therefore, stimulate dopamine. However, I believe I’m over-indulging to the point of addiction … benign addiction, perhaps. I feel antsy when I’m not consuming information, when I haven’t heard the latest detail of the latest political train wreck, when I hear about the latest book I should have read; and when I’m feeding all that information into a funnel, synthesizing it into my own thoughts and feelings.

Busyness. I feel better, more worthy, somehow safer when I’m busy. Like the demons can’t get me if my mind is engaged with assembling the world.

Okay … so what now? 

Unsurprisingly, my first reaction is to buy this book. Books have always been a comfort and escape from the world around me. The NPR article cited below offers more information (!) and confirms my self-diagnosis of information addiction.

But, in modern life, we live in a world of abundance rather than scarcity, and Lembke says our brains weren't evolved for the "fire hose of dopamine" of sugar, social media, TV, sex, drugs or any number of dopamine-triggering stimuli so easily available. In short, Lembke says, almost every behavior has become "drugified."

When we're repeatedly exposed to our pleasure-producing stimuli, our brains adjust and, eventually, we need more and more just to feel "normal," or not in pain. That's called a "dopamine deficit state," and the cycle that leads us there can actually lead to depression, anxiety, irritability and insomnia.

"We're not able to take joy in more modest rewards," Lembke says. "Now, our drug of choice doesn't even get us high. It just makes us feel normal. And when we're not using, we're experiencing the universal symptoms of withdrawal from any addictive substance, which are anxiety, irritability, insomnia, dysphoria and craving."

                           However, the author’s advice makes me shudder. 
                              Break the cycle. Do a 30-day dopamine fast.

“This doesn't mean going cold turkey forever,” she states, “but this first month is key to getting your pleasure-pain balance back in check. It's a lot easier to cut out an addictive behavior entirely at first, and then re-introduce it in moderation.”

She warns that we will probably feel worse before we feel better, and I’m already feeling worse: anxiety is creeping up my arms. I can’t even imagine how to start. Do I give up reading and writing altogether? Maybe I should just read the book first? Maybe I should just forget this whole thing and relax?

I continue reading the NPR article and she mentions intermittent fasting. That might work … especially if I start slowly. What if I set a time window for abstaining from information consumption? Two-hours in my day when I couldn’t read or write anything? 

That doesn’t sound draconian but the screaming in my head is a disturbing confirmation that I am out of balance.

I read on:

For long-term change, radical honesty and community are key

In her work treating people with addiction, Lembke says she sees the most success in long-term recovery when people can't lie. She explains that even though we're often terrified of being radically honest with others because we think they'll go running, the opposite actually happens: radical honesty promotes intimacy. "And intimacy is an incredibly valuable and potent source of dopamine," she says. "We know that when we make intimate human connections, oxytocin binds dopamine, releasing neurons in the reward pathway and dopamine is released and it feels really good."

Another level of this involves being radically honest with ourselves. Lembke explains that if we tell ourselves stories that aren't true, we'll repeat our mistakes. But if we're ruthlessly honest about how we're flawed and how we've contributed to our own problems – we can work on those mistakes and navigate the future differently.

I have to admit, I don’t think I have a problem … I’m just a little out of balance. I love my life. I love being able to sink into information like a warm bath. I feel privileged and grateful that there is such an abundance of information available. So, why am I even here chasing words that came to me from nowhere this morning?

Recently, my dreams have been filled with people; all of us doing things I don’t really remember. My night world is populated while my day world is amazingly solitary. I don’t want to give up my solitude, but I wonder once again about balance.

Two hours a day doesn’t seem like an impossible mountain to climb, and perhaps it would give me a different perspective. 30 days. 2 hours a day.

Is there anyone out there who would like to be a companion on this journey to a rebalancing of our lives?

Reference: Too much pleasure can lead to addiction. How to break the cycle and find balance, by Elise Hu, NPR Life Kit, April 4, 2022