Never Enough: The Neuroscience and Experience of Addiction

by Judith Grisel

I have a clear memory of lying in my bunk one afternoon, stoned but despairing. Students were chatting as they walked outside my window or down the hall; I had assignments due or overdue and probably plans to meet up with friends for dinner. However, I was overwhelmed by a sense of emptiness and futility even more intense than usual. I can’t think of anything in my circumstances that precipitated this crisis; even now I think of my drug use—especially in the early stages—as much cure as cause. But for whatever reason, I saw my whole life, despite blips of disaster and achievement, as an aimless trajectory of self-preservation and promotion: starting and going nowhere, and characterized by reflexive and blind occupation. Moreover, it seemed that my life was no different from anyone else’s. We were like fish schooling in circles, oblivious to the water and indifferent to anything outside our own self-serving heads. I remember the gray and formless pit in my chest and belly that these thoughts evoked. Each of us was completely alone, and our efforts were primarily directed at maintaining delusions that kept us sane, until we died.