Enough

Audio version now available.

Is having enough about getting more or needing less?

I was at a casual lunch meeting with six people and two eight-slice pizzas. I ate one slice of pepperoni and one slice of margherita. I was still hungry, and the pizza was really delicious, but you could not have force-fed me a third slice.

It wasn’t about not wanting to “look” gluttonous. I was meeting with people who know me well. They know I am a glutton. If there had been ten pizzas, I probably would have eaten a whole pizza myself, and made lots of comments about having a molten-mozzarella induced orgasm, and being too stuffed to get to my car. Gluttony is part of my schtick at times. But there was not enough pizza for everyone at the table to have three slices, so two was a limit defined by courtesy and an awareness of the refrigerator full of food to which I would have access after the meeting.

I’ve clearly overthought a couple of pizzas between friends and colleagues. But I think differing mindsets in a situation like this explains a lot. In fact, I would like to conduct pizza scarcity research, controlling, of course, for overall access to food, familiarity with the other pizza eaters, time since the last meal, deliciousness of the pizza, lactose or gluten intolerances, availability of napkins, and crust crispiness and cheese meltiness.

Having not conducted said research, here is what I am confident that I would find: Some people would make sure everyone had some, and other people would make sure they had as much as they could get.

Fear of scarcity is a universalism in addiction. As an active alcoholic, there were countless times when I felt significant anxiety as I scanned an event, worried that there was not enough booze to meet my considerable needs. It is really interesting the impact of alcohol on a person otherwise naturally and sincerely concerned with the wellbeing of the whole. When I drank, I wanted, and embarrassingly, at times needed, my fill. Not my share. Not some. I needed mine, and if it came at the expense of the alcohol available to others, so be it. I tried not to look like a greedy alcoholic, but I was a master at topping off my glass, subtly boxing people out who approached the bar, taking a swig from the bottle when I generously offered to open more wine, secretly finishing other people’s drinks when they weren’t looking (gross much?), etc. When alcohol was my priority, it wasn’t hard for me to “get mine” in a crowd of unsuspecting people who were not alcoholics.

Another place where fear of scarcity is common is in adolescence. We have four kids, and each of them, to varying degrees, have exhibited selfishness as they grew and matured. We are in the process of moving, and our younger kids are far more concerned with their personal space in our new home than with the common areas, amount of storage for the collections of decades of being a family, the durability of the building materials, the condition of the appliances, or the new home’s price tag. I don’t blame them. I am not looking at this as a teaching moment about selflessness. I think a certain amount of concentration on getting our own personal needs met is an important characteristic leading to survival. Our kids need to know how to put themselves first. If we have done a good job as parents, all the times we’ve made them help our neighbors, share, and be of service will embed themselves in their adult personalities, too. Someday they will care if the shingles on their homes are rated to withstand hail to prevent water from dripping on their families’ heads. Someday they will eagerly sacrifice for their kids. Today is not that day, and that’s OK.

It is widely believed that emotional maturation is stunted by addiction. In the alcoholism recovery field, we talk about how people stop growing when they start drinking. Addiction makes it so we don’t make that turn from learning skills of self-preservation to learning that stuff does not need to be a zero-sum game.

I have written recently about undergoing an awakening. My awakening goes far beyond the depths of depravity of a world-renowned dead pedofile and largely protected living co-conspirators. I am realizing the degree to which many, many people don’t make that turn I wish for my kids. They don’t mature to prioritize their tribe over themselves. They eat all the pizza.

For many, enough is never enough.

I don’t begrudge anyone for using their talents, intelligence, or persistence to accumulate the resources they need. And then some, even. It is when we don’t recognize that our cup runneth over that I get worried. What we are seeing all around us is a celebration of abundance masked as something esteemable, something to be admired and respected. But it is nothing more than the gluttony of addiction.

Power addiction.

Addiction to power. Addiction to alcohol. Addiction to porn. Addiction to gambling. Addiction to sugar. Addiction to exercise. What do they all have in common? The sufferer can’t get enough. Even in a situation of abundance, they worry about scarcity.

As we learn more, as we experience a collective awakening, one of the most troubling aspects of what we are all learning is the proclivities of the ultra-powerful toward behaviors and fetishes that the vast majority of us can’t imagine. Among the proclivities is pedophelia. We are almost entirely united in decrying that behavior as despicable, reprehensible, and criminal. Many among us admire the money of the ultra-powerful, but almost no one admires the pedophelia. Why do people who have one thing we all want also have a propensity to desire another thing that we decry?

It’s because the pedos aren’t true, psychological pedophiles. They are power addicts, and the despicable behaviors to which we are becoming aware is not about their sexual fetishes. It is about using their accumulated power to protect them from the rules that govern the rest of us. It is about proving that they are untouchable. After all, what’s more exhilarating to someone who gets his dopamine from power than exercising that power.

As an alcoholic, it was much easier to stay sober than to stop drinking once I started. That’s another universalism of addiction. Stopping is exponentially harder than to not start. Just like an alcoholic with alcohol in his system doesn’t have an off switch, a power addict doesn’t have an off switch, either. Did you see that Pappa Elon was emailing Epstein on Christmas morning? He couldn’t even turn it off on what many parents consider the most sacred day of the year. The December 25th email was not because he’s a bad parent (which, as an aside, he clearly is). It is because addiction does not adhere to a calendar. I wonder what percentage of my readers have had a Christmas ruined by addiction. I bet it is the vast majority.

That to which we are becoming aware is not about depravity. It is about addiction.

It is about not having access to an awareness of enough.

I’ll repeat my question from the opening:

Is having enough about getting more or needing less?

I struggle with enough everyday. I wake up in a warm house with plenty of clothes, food, etc. I wake up with plenty. But still, I worry if I will have enough tomorrow. Is that a remnant of my addiction? Is that my alcohol-induced maturation stunting? I worry about my own personal survivability of tomorrow despite all historical evidence to the contrary. Even as I have more, I worry that it is not enough.

Is the solution to go get me some? To hoard and gather, to add to the pile, to try to find comfort in accumulation? Or is that solution unattainable because I just keep raising the bar? As we are all becoming aware together, raising the bar has no limits. None.

Is the solution about getting or needing?

I need for nothing. And I can say that with confidence at the same time that my anxiety about not having enough vibrates away at the back of my brain.

I’ll never have enough until I embrace that I’ve always had enough.

I recognize what a disparity in messaging it might seem like when I compare the power addiction of the ultra-powerful to the lingering scarcity issue of a dried up old drunk.

The point I’m trying to make is that it is hard to reach the answer when we are going in the wrong direction. Money isn’t esteemable. Power isn’t a prosperous goal.

I haven’t reached the answer yet, but I’m confident that I’m going the right direction. I’m confident that in the end, having enough is going to look a lot like having a couple of slices of pizza and not feeling hungry.

If you are ready to pursue your own personal answers about having enough, and about the impact of alcohol on your life, either as the drinker or the partner, please take our survey so we can engage you where you are in your own discovery process.

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