- Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
- Nov 8, 2024
Note: This content is fictional and created with the intention to inspire, uplift, and support you on your mental health journey. If it feels discouraging, please feel free to disregard it—your well-being is always the priority.
Matt had always loved video games. As a teenager, they were his escape. Life in high school was tough—anxiety over grades, the pressure to fit in, and an overall sense of not quite measuring up. Gaming provided him with an easy way to step away from the daily stress and immerse himself in a world where success came in the form of levels, points, and virtual victories. It felt good to win, and in the game, Matt was someone important, someone in control.
What started as a way to pass the time gradually took over his life. At first, it was just an hour here and there—late nights with friends in an online match or solo sessions to unwind after school. But soon, those hours began to stretch longer. Gaming was no longer a hobby; it was an obsession. Matt would spend entire weekends lost in games, his world shrinking down to a screen, the outside world fading into the background. He stopped seeing friends, stopped doing homework, and started pulling away from his family. He rationalized it at first—he was just having fun, right? But deep down, he knew something was wrong.
The signs of his addiction were there if he cared to look—sleep deprivation, a growing sense of emptiness, and a mounting pile of missed opportunities in the real world. But Matt wasn’t ready to face it. Gaming was his shield. Whenever life felt overwhelming, the game offered him relief. In-game achievements replaced real-life accomplishments, and the virtual camaraderie with teammates gave him a sense of belonging he didn’t feel in his day-to-day interactions.
It wasn’t until the consequences of his addiction became too loud to ignore that Matt began to face the truth. One evening, after playing for an entire day, Matt received a text from his best friend, Jake. It was short and simple: *"Where are you? We were supposed to hang out today."* Matt had completely forgotten. He hadn’t just missed a hangout—he had missed out on being a friend. The guilt hit him harder than any in-game loss ever had. It wasn’t just a missed opportunity; it was the slow erosion of the relationships that mattered to him most.
The next day, his mother sat him down. She had been patient for a while, but her concern was evident now. “Matt,” she said gently, “this isn’t healthy. You’re not the same person anymore.” Her words stung, but they were also a wake-up call. It was the first time someone had said it aloud. Gaming wasn’t just a hobby anymore; it was controlling him. The realization sunk in slowly, and with it came an overwhelming sense of loss—he had allowed his life to revolve around something that gave him no real joy. The victories in the game didn’t translate to any sense of fulfillment outside of it.
For a long time, Matt had ignored the warning signs. He had thought that gaming was just a phase, something that would naturally burn itself out. But deep down, he knew the truth: his gaming had become a way to avoid the difficulties of his life. The stress of school, his fear of failure, his social anxiety—all of it was easier to escape into the world of fantasy, where he could control outcomes and avoid confrontation with his real-world problems.
That moment, sitting across from his mother, was the first time Matt had truly considered that he might be addicted. It was painful to admit, but he knew he had to confront it. The next step wasn’t easy. Matt reached out for help, and with the support of his family, he began seeing a therapist. The first few sessions were uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how to articulate the feelings of shame and guilt that weighed him down, but his therapist helped him break it down. Gaming wasn’t just an addiction—it was a coping mechanism for deeper issues. He was using the games to numb out the stress and anxiety that he didn’t know how to handle.
Matt’s recovery wasn’t a straight line. It was messy, filled with setbacks and moments of doubt. At first, he tried cutting back on his gaming by setting limits. But the urge to play, to escape, was still so strong. There were times when he relapsed, when he found himself once again binge-playing for hours, only to feel empty afterward. It took time, but Matt began to realize that change didn’t come in perfect steps. Recovery was about making progress, not achieving perfection.
One of the most difficult parts was learning to sit with the discomfort. Gaming had been a way to avoid feeling anything uncomfortable—whether it was anxiety about school, the fear of failure, or the loneliness he sometimes felt. He had to find new ways to cope with those feelings, ways that didn’t involve escaping into a game. Over time, he started journaling, a practice he’d never tried before. Writing down his thoughts helped him process his emotions in a way that gaming never had. He also started exercising more, something he had neglected during his gaming binge. The physical activity helped clear his mind and gave him a sense of accomplishment outside of the virtual world.
Matt also reconnected with his friends, slowly but surely. It wasn’t always easy—some relationships had faded because of his addiction. But the more effort he put into real-life connections, the more fulfilling they became. He learned how to be present again, how to have conversations without being distracted by the pull of his phone or the temptation to game.
There were small victories along the way—like the time he turned down an all-night gaming session to go to a friend’s birthday party, or when he spent a Saturday hiking instead of grinding for hours on a new game. These moments, though small, reminded him that there was a life beyond the screen, a life that he could still shape.
A turning point in Matt’s journey came when he realized that he didn’t have to give up gaming entirely to regain control of his life. He had always loved games, but they no longer had to be the center of his world. He found a healthier balance. Gaming became something he did in moderation, an occasional pastime rather than a daily necessity. He could enjoy the games he loved without letting them take over his life.
Looking back, Matt sees his addiction not as a shameful chapter, but as a pivotal part of his growth. It taught him invaluable lessons about self-awareness, the importance of balance, and the need to confront his emotions head-on. He learned that true fulfillment doesn’t come from escaping into a virtual world—it comes from facing life as it is, with all its messiness and challenges, and learning how to thrive despite them.
Today, Matt is in a much healthier place. He’s rebuilt his relationships, his mental health is stronger, and he’s rediscovered his passions. Gaming is still a part of his life, but it’s no longer his crutch. It’s just another hobby, one of many pieces of the puzzle that make up his fuller, richer life.
Matt’s story is a reminder that no matter how deep the struggle may seem, recovery is always possible. It takes time, effort, and the willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. But for anyone caught in the cycle of addiction—whether it’s gaming, social media, or anything else—the path to freedom starts with one simple realization: it’s okay to press pause.
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