Confessions

Confession: There have been times in my life when I have been addicted to computer games.

Time #1: The Spring of 2000, Disney's Tarzan

My Version: I would collapse on the living room floor every day after track practice, rolling on the floor in agony as if a million tiny hot pokers were inside my legs, each one branding my bones again and again with a burning vengeance.

I would crawl on my stomach to the kitchen, empty two ice cube trays into a tall, empty garbage bin and fill it with cold water.  Then, dragging myself by the elbows, I would sit in a chair and plunge my legs into the icy depths of the garbage bin.

After five minutes of the soak, the cold reached all the way to my teeth.  After ten minutes, it reached all the way to my soul.

I would scream out, "For the love of all that is good in this world, please someone help me take my mind off my legs so that I can last the recommended 45 minute ice bath to ease shin splints!"

Sarah, on hearing my plea, would quickly pull my chair over to the computer and load the Disney's Tarzan computer game.  And for the remaining half hour I would intensely focus on moving little Tarzan up a jungle cliff, collecting coconuts and avoiding evil hunters and apes.

I believe the Tarzan game is the only reason I can walk to this day.

Wasn't Sarah kind to give up the computer every day for me?

Sarah's Version:  I would come home from school every day, yell at her until she was forced to get off the computer, and play the Tarzan game for hours.  Mwahaha.

Time #2: The Spring/Summer of 2006, Magic Vines

It was my last season at BYU, I was failing Spanish, I was single, and I was going to have a degree in Marriage, Family, and Human Development which I was just barely realizing was the perfect degree to get if you wanted a straight shot to an uncertain future.  I was depressed.

I was working at the BYU Travel Office, which unfortunately provided many hours to reflect on my depressive state.  In order to delay facing reality by thinking of a productive plan for the future, I discovered Magic Vines and began playing it in between waiting for the phone to ring and taping reimbursement receipts.

For every level you passed on Magic Vines, you got a stamp in your passport and were sent to another jungle in the world by following an Indiana Jones-esque map.  Hawai'i's jungle was child's play, Patagonia's was an adventure, my heart experienced a particular darkness in the Congo, and the Serengetti nearly killed me (twice).

But it wasn't until I got to Tasmania that I realized I might not make it around the world after all.  Days passed, and I was still lost in its jungles.  There's a reason devils come from there.  

Eventually I expressed my frustration to my boss and bff, Mary.  It only made sense I would come so far only to fail in Magic Vines...after all, I was failing Spanish, I was failing socially, I was failing life.

The next day, I came into work and Mary told me that she had talked to the purchasing department and they were going to help answer phones until I conquered the jungles of the world.  I was to ignore all work and devote myself entirely to Tasmania.  So I did.  Phones were ignored, walk-in patrons were tackled and diverted to other areas, travel agents stopped by occasionally to check on my progress and cheer me on.  And eventually, the magic vines were defeated.

The purchasing department made me an official Magic Vines Champion certificate.  I still have it, and every once in awhile when I feel like I'm failing, I like to look at it and remind myself that if nothing else I am a Magic Vines success story.

Time #3: December of 2008, Text Twist

In December of 2008, my heart was broken.  I had just ended a relationship with the man of my dreams...my Justin Timberlake, if you will.  And I had turned to Text Twist for solace.

Christmas was particularly hard.  Once all the festivities of the day were done, dinner cleaned up, children in bed, I found myself once again at the computer.  I think Morgan and Sarah came over to play it with me.  And then Mom and Kim and Maria.  And Alison and Kelly and Big Morgan and Ben.

All ten of us huddled around that computer, shouting out words and suggestions to twist.  We kept finding the six letter word, we kept passing the levels.

Around midnight, people started getting tired but everyone kept going.  Around one, some people started questioning if it was time for bed.  I'd say, "No, please just until we can't find the six letter word."

I can't remember how late we stayed up...2? 2:30? 3?  All I remember is begging everyone to keep going, keep playing until we lost.  And they did stay - whether it was for me or for peer pressure or because they too were addicted to the game - it doesn't matter because something about them staying to play the game healed a little bit of my heart that night and Time #3 of computer game addictions will forever be my favorite time.

So there seems to be a trend with my computer game addictions - I use them to avoid pain and they are usually accompanied by extreme acts of compassion from people I love.

Last night, I found this game: Word Bubbles.  I tried it out (high score: 2850, can I get a what! what!) and I can feel a future addiction coming on.

Unfortunately, I do not have any pain right now that I am trying to avoid, so I thought I'd at least share it in case it helps someone else.

For now, I'm just going to tuck it into my back pocket if, when, and until Time #4 arrives.