nothing to numb with

no coffee, no alcohol, no drugs, no social media, no sugar, no videos

Wednesday, May 7, 2025

I, Christina Fang, commit to a 90 day dopamine detox in order to be the best and brightest version of myself. I shall stop procrastinating on my creative commitments and endeavors, and I shall begin writing and working towards my dreams. I shall commit to getting good sleep, exercise, and rest. I shall reset my dopamine levels. My dopamine detox includes

• no alcohol

• no drugs

• no added sugar

• no videos

• no social media

• no coffee

Everyday, I will do my best to fulfill my potential. I will feel my feelings. I will journal, meditate, and pray to God when I need help. I will use outreach calls and meetings to support myself.

I commit to taking care of my mental, physical, and spiritual health.

Signature Date

Christina Fang 5/7/2025

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today is day 21 of my dopamine detox.

i feel tired. my eyelids are drooping. open just enough to see my fingers over the keys. my body sags into the chair. i press my head back into my headrest, attempting to straighten my spine.

i miss coffee.

i miss the bitter jitters- harsh on the tongue but electric in the body. i long for that sweet sigh of relief that comes after the first sip of darkness slips through my eager wanting lips, washing me away into a blissful high. it only lasts twenty minutes before i want more; i pace the wooden kitchen floor, waiting for the beans to grind and coffee to drip. another cup dry, i suddenly my heart is pounding, my mind is racing—and just like that, i’m on a battlefield, fighting against my own anxious thoughts.

then, once the anxiety keels over, the depression sets in. i lie on my bed, eyes closed, but mind still awake.

it was a roller coaster i never wanted to end.

i miss alcohol and drugs.

actually, i only miss them when i’m around people.

i crave it most when there is a tension in the air, awkwardness, unknowing silence, one that can be easily eradicated with a few glasses of wine or a couple puffs of a joint.

being with my friends without the lubrication of ecstasy begins each hangout with a question: what will this be like? with drugs, it’s always a good time. without, sometimes it’s awkward. sometimes deep. sometimes there are tears from sadness. sometimes tears from belly laughs, but, it is always with the shaking vulnerability of a newborn deer.

when i’m alone, i miss my two greatest loves: sugar and screens.

jeni’s ice cream, crumbl cookies, ghirardelli chocolate, portillo’s chocolate cake shake, starbucks caramel crunch frappuccino, starbucks cake pops, grocery store candy, mcdonald’s dr. pepper, taco bell baja blast, oui yogurt.

netflix, youtube, instagram reels, facebook shorts, hulu, apple tv, amazon prime video, disney plus, tiktok, hbo max-or max-now renamed again hbo max.

they were my companions after a long day of standing on my feet, selling soap to white naperville moms, and playing with bubbles with their spoiled hyperactive children. i enjoy my job but, i crave the comfort of having someone to come home to, to chat about my day, decompress into their arms. sugar and screens gave me companionship without the complications of connecting with a human.

just one spoonful of sugar or just one video was never enough. bingeing until my body hurt, i’d fall asleep belly stuffed, laptop open- waking up to the screen staring back at me. my home screen is the image of an evergreen forest. its lush woods, hidden and tranquil, beckon me to come join them in the darkness.

for the first time ever, my coworkers invited to me hang out after work, and they designated me the decision-maker for where we should go out to get ice cream. i didn’t tell them i wasn’t eating any— in fear of seeming either weird or superior. i suggested jeni’s, since she’s my favorite, and the gooey butter cake is totally divine.

the pungent aroma of rich vanilla and seductive chocolate welcomed us as we entered the tiny shop. they all ordered ahead of me and waited for me at the end.

i sheepishly said, “oh uh, yeah i’m not eating sugar right now.”

sweet angie looked at me -either with admiration or pity- and said, “dang, i should really do that too,” and then ordered a cone with gooey butter cake and strawberry buttermilk.

there are no lows, when there are no highs.

(or i stop feeling so low when i stop getting so high.)

after sinking into another bout of depression a couple months ago, i realized -yet again— something needed to change. i couldn’t quite afford a therapist on my part-time job salary, and i didn’t yet have health insurance. so, like the serenity prayer implies, i control what i can, and i let go of the rest.

a monk once told me that, “with every high comes a low, with every low comes a high. drugs, alcohol, sex, even laughter and love, are all momentary highs that ultimately bring lows once they’ve gone. the way to live without suffering is through living the middle way.”

at the time, i thought to myself well that’s easy enough for you to say when you literally live at a meditation center and all you do every day is meditate, chant, and garden.

but, with that wisdom and months of riding the rollercoaster, i’m trying out my own version of a middle way. one that isn’t in an idyllic rainforest in thailand or magical beach in hawaii. one that looks like my life now as it’s currently constituted.

i still sell bath-bombs part-time, i still buy bunches of kale at my local jewel-osco, i still drive my mom’s car, i still don’t have health insurance (YET) and i still dream about running away to unknown, mysterious destinations.

my vindicated vices—once virtuously, vehemently validated with veneration—are now vanquished, vaporized, and vanished. I vow to live in full view of my values, in hopes of vaulting into a new, vibrant venture— one full of virtue, valor, and vitality.

thank god (or buddha or allah or jesus or whoever), i am sober.

alcoholics anonymous says the quickest way to figure out why you drink is to stop drinking. for me, i see all the ways i tried to run away from feelings or thoughts i didn’t want to face: the apocalyptic aloneness that greets me the moment i wake and cradles me the moment my head hits the pillow, the fear that shakes me each time i write new words on a blank page, the boredom that chokes me, asking me, “Is this who you are now? What happened to when you were fun?”

with nothing to numb with, i am present with all of the feelings i used to push away. and the more i pay attention, the more i learn how to be with them, sit with them, let them go.

i’m learning how to fall in love with the monotone, with the grey.

i’m befriending loneliness, boredom, and exhaustion.

i’m try to sit with my anger, my resentment, my fear. i pull up a chair, i ask them if they’d like a cup of tea.

i admire the way light filters through the french doors on the first floor of my parent’s home, leaving a pattern that only exists at a certain time of day, a temporary piece of art. this beauty doesn’t feel so exciting- it’s not one that whisks me off my feet. it’s a quiet kind of beautiful. it’s a love that can only be felt in life’s heartbeat.

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