This is a random investigation (RI). In the attempt to understand my own behaviour, I am starting from a single point of interest and seeking to follow the thought path in whatever random direction it takes me. This RI commenced on encountering the following text on a web site:
This should be obvious given that obsessive eating is rooted in negative emotional states, from which sweet and fatty foods — calming opioids — provide fleeting respite.
On a day earlier this week I awoke in the night, came downstairs, and consumed a largish bowl of ice cream. It is normal for me to experience interrupted sleep. It is not normal for me to slurp significant quantities of “calming opioids” in the form of “sweet and fatty foods.”
One reason this is not normal behaviour is that I rarely have ice cream in the freeze box, especially in cold mid-winter. The ice cream was purchased on sale; it was two dollars a litre or something similar. The manufacturer clearly saw the need to boost sales at a time when frozen desert is not top of mind in the world`s coldest capital.
I made the purchase not because it was on sale, but as a reward. To force myself through the difficult process of writing TAQ submissions, I employ a reward system. Once I complete document X then, and only then, may I reward myself with a goodie. The nature of the “goodie” varies. The “goodie” is typically something I would not normally purchase.
Late last year, the “goodie” was milk chocolate, 300 lb slabs of dark deliciousness, each slab secreted away in the fridge to protect it from the ferocious heat waves of fall. These purchases were incented when the store placed cocoa bars on a two`fer sale. It was such a good deal, I went for a four`fer. The slabs still repose in the fridge.
The same reward system has also been used to permit myself the purchase of luxury items: canned clams for chowder and as a vital source of magnesium; fresh romaine, or broccoli, or other greens straight from the farmer`s market; blueberry pie sold at a 50% discount due to being past its best before date.
[Long Pause]
This reward system no longer seems to work. I have documents I should draft, I am experiencing significant resistance to performing the necessary work and I have been casting around for an incentive, some way to force myself into gear. I cannot think of anything to desire. The chocolate is still in the fridge uneaten. There is no little item of food foolery that comes to mind that will force performance. I don`t want to do it. I no longer want to play charades.
[Another Long Pause]
The use of the term charades is interesting. I am not sure what is meant. The following answer may be incorrect but we will see where it takes us. Looking back on the history of the injury, I am conscious of the fact that I bundled “rehabilitation” and “insurance settlement” together. One was required in order to facilitate the other. Since this was believed to be true, and I wanted a return to my pre-injury state, I was highly motivated to pursue the claims process.
This motivation fell apart in mid 2014. I encountered a significant roadblock with the discovery that MRI was unable to image my form of injury, that neuropsych testing, in the absence of a prior baseline test, gave insufficient evidence of injury. The insurer could always claim my test results demonstrated average performance and there was no fundamental basis for my claim. Plus the testing was expensive, and many of the neuropsychologists contacted had little interest in being involved in litigation. I was battling an agency of the government, they had unlimited funds, I had none. There was no evident means to marshal the evidence required to win the claim, therefore the rational decision was to not devote further time and energy to an action which was clearly impossible to win.
In mid-summer 2014 I wrote a nasty letter to the insurance company and thought the matter ended. At around this time, I commenced intensive walk therapy. This appeared to deliver positive results. I kept upping my mileage and added little twists such as eating brain friendly food before setting out on a three hour walk therapy session. There was a sense of confidence that I might undertake self-rehabilitation without any assistance from the insurer, or from anyone else, Dr H and Dr D excepted. I am not an objective informant but I have a clear sense of a demarcation between my injury status prior to intensive walk therapy, and after intensive walk therapy.
[Another Long Pause]
This post has moved a long way off the original topic which had reward structures as the primary concern. But I have just had the flash of insight that the sense of recovery which arose in association with intensive walk therapy (IWT) was its own intrinsic reward. It was such a valued reward that I punished myself to an extreme, battling my way up and down the hills of the Gatineau. I had great confidence that I had found the means to address the injury and obtain a full recovery. I definitely made an improvement.
To be continued . . .