To Save Their Marriage, They Shot His Xbox—with a Gun

Xbox, post shooting

It’s true. They took it out and shot it. That’s the real photo above. Below, the wife in the couple tells their story, providing a personal glimpse into the complex reasons why some adults with ADHD get hooked into cyber-addictions.

A little background first.

About a decade ago, I wandered into a World of Warcraft support group (for the partners of the players). I didn’t know much about the game. My husband (the one with ADHD in our marriage) played Starcraft briefly, until I pointed out that it always made him mean as a snake. Actually, I should say that he was fine while he was playing it, but once he stopped…look out! It reminded me of the stereotypical addict’s withdrawal. Fortunately, he agreed and we threw the thing away.

But the way these people in that support group described their gaming partners’ behavior, it surely sounded a lot like ADHD. Did they want to hear about this possibility? A resounding and vehement “No!”

Granted, not everyone who plays videogames compulsively and with adverse effects has ADHD. But we know enough now about the dopamine reward system to know this: People with ADHD are more vulnerable to developing addictions of all types, and that includes to electronics and gaming. We talk about this a lot in the Silicon Valley Adult ADHD Discussion group that I've co-moderated for 10 years, for CHADD of Northern California. (Free and open to the public.)

Moreover, people with ADHD might also be more vulnerable to the “escape” offered by electronics and games (see this previous post by Kevin Roberts, an adult with ADHD who wrote the book CyberJunkies).

If excessive videogaming and electronics usage is eroding your relationship, it might be a good idea to give this topic long, hard thought.

Now, let’s get to the story from a friend I’ll call Kate.

Why We Shot the Xbox

By Kate

It felt so good to finally take off my shoes that morning. It had been an especially long night-shift at the hospital. As much as I adore working as a nurse, 12 hours on my feet leaves me ready to crash by the time I get home.

From the garage, I reached around the corner into the kitchen to hang up my car keys. Then I saw it: the ominous glow flashing from the living room. It shouldn't have surprised me. Following the source of the glow, I found him. Right where I’d left him. That glow streamed from the bane of my existence; the Xbox 360.

The Xbox became a problem less than a year into our marriage. My husband was just too good at it. The speed at which he could boost his rank in whatever game he was playing proved gratifying to the point of addiction for my husband. It started out as a hobby, after he became sick.

Later, we’d find out that his symptoms—including constant migraine headaches, chronic nausea, flu-like body pains and IBS—were mostly due to depression and PTSD (all magnified by his ADHD). But we didn’t know that then. We thought he was just ill.

Did he need his gallbladder removed? Was it celiac? An allergy? We didn’t know. While the tests continued, mostly all he could muster the energy to do was play Xbox. Actually, this was a hobby he’d participated in throughout high school but had given up in order to pursue “life”: a career, a wife, a family.  

A 6-Star Husband When They Were Newlyweds 

He had been a 5-star boyfriend for 2 years and a 6-star husband when we were newlyweds. He was so excited when we found out we were expecting our first child and would have gone to the ends of the earth to spoil the baby and I. “My girls,” he’d calls us.

In hindsight, all of the “sickness” seemed to arise when things started getting ugly with his parents and siblings. His parents were splitting up. Everyone was fighting. Everything was falling apart. I’d later learn that, all throughout his childhood, he had fought diligently to keep his family together and now felt he was watching everyone tear apart his life’s work. He was utterly broken.

Ugly, lurking memories and experiences that he’d suppressed for years were now coming forward. It was too much for him. The stress was physically sickening.   Of course, I couldn’t know all that. I just knew that all my husband wanted was the X-box. It caused numerous fights and was driving a wedge between us. Oh how I dreamed about running that thing over with my car, or throwing it off a cliff. The Halos, Skyrim, Black Ops and now Destiny.

His “hobby” had morphed into something so real and so all-encompassing that I often feared I was losing him. Hours on end, day in and day out…the thing that started as a mere pastime had become more important than me to him. More important than watching our daughter grow up.  More important than holding a job. More important than pursuing his degree. 

Now, Xbox Was The Most Important Thing 

Meanwhile, I was becoming physically exhausted and emotionally drained. I worked. I paid the bills. I cleaned the house. I tended the baby. I did the shopping. I did the cooking. I barely slept.  But at times the Xbox was more important to him than eating or sleeping. This was one of those times. 

Shawn had been making an effort at least. He was on an SSRI to help with moods, and another medication that kept his migraines at bay. He’d just started school again (after taking 2 semesters off). We’d finally gotten the ADHD diagnosed. He was on a medication that was working for him, and helping him focus in class.  I was finally gaining hope. 

This just made it twice as disappointing when I came home that morning to find he’d been playing all night.

I knew then that I’d not be able to sleep. The baby would be waking up soon and I’d be the one tending her. Not that he wouldn’t offer. He always had good intentions—he just couldn’t live up to them. He’d fall asleep on the job, the job of taking care of our baby. I knew it and he knew it. So, I’d let him sleep first.

This was my life. No sleep, no sleep, no sleep. I’d be lucky to catch 2 hours while the baby took her afternoon nap and then maybe he’d let me grab an hour more once he woke up. Of course, during that hour he’d likely put on “Frozen” so he could keep her occupied while he played on his Xbox. 

All that is what I anticipated would take place again. But this time, it didn’t happen. This time, he shocked me. This time, he made my world a better place.

In my dismay, arriving home to that flickering glow, I’d dropped my elbows and head down onto the kitchen counter. I was trying to calculate whether I had room in my system for more caffeine than I’d already consumed at work. Normally, I’d go talk to him, tell him I was home, maybe ask him what the living hell he was doing still playing, but I was too exhausted. I wasn’t in the mood to fight. I thought maybe if I was lucky I could get 30 minutes or so of sleep before our daughter woke up. 

And Then He Surprised Her

All of a sudden I heard the TV turn off. He walked in to greet me.

“Hi Bunny.” he said. I hadn’t heard my pet-name in a while.

“Hi.” I said. “You’re still up.” I probably sounded angry.

“Yeah. I was thinking,” he said.

He paused. “Yes?” I prompted.

“This thing [Xbox] is wasting my life. I’m missing everything, I can’t get any homework done, we’re always angry at each other...I want to go shooting.”

The last line seemed irrelevant. “Shooting?”

“I want to put a freaking bullet in the stupid Xbox.”

I didn’t even know how to respond. For a moment I thought I was imagining things. How often had I imagined myself doing exactly that? How many times had I said exactly what he was saying? How many times had he not listened to me? 

 

"We Made a Date of It" 

 

To my complete delight and surprise, he actually followed through! My dad owns shotguns that we were able to borrow. We made a date of it. He took me to dinner and we drove up the mountain to a remote location and both shot it at the same time. I’ve never been so relieved as when that thing blew to pieces. 

We kept the disc-drive, which has a single shot directly through the center, as a souvenir. The plan is to mount it in a shadowbox with the shot gun shells and the word, “Overcome.”

To me, this marks the end of an ugly era and the start of a bright new one. It’s only been two weeks since the execution, but things are looking way up. 

We kept the disc-drive, which has a single shot directly through the center, 

as a souvenir. The plan is to mount it 

in a shadowbox with the shot gun shells and the word, “Overcome.”

We’ve gone out to do something with our daughter every day since, as a family. Even just trips to the grocery store or parks together are enjoyable. He keeps commenting on how he forgot how much time that days actually have in them and that he's shocked when the sun doesn't just come up, then go down several moments later.  

He helped me clean the house. He worked on our car. He’s run errands. He caught up in his classes. He’s been on time. He actually changed his phone number so that his Xbox friends couldn’t get a hold of him and recruit him to play. “I know I’d find a way if the mission was interesting enough” he said.

We still have a ways to go, and this wasn’t an overnight change. This was the result of nearly 2 years of finding the correct medications, counseling with professionals and allowing him to grieve the losses of his past, his family, and his diagnosis. Most importantly, he had to decide for himself that the change needed to be made.

Not a word I said even swayed him. So many times I threatened to make him leave. Told him I didn’t need him. I was so angry that I oftentimes wished he would leave. But even stronger than the anger was always the pleading; with myself, with God—to grant him and I the strength to get through this on the same team!

Right as I was ready to give in and decide I couldn’t live like this anymore, he made the decision. But that’s just it. It had to be him to make the change. Not me.

Huge thanks to Kate for sharing this story with us. We both hope that it serves to inspire others who might be in similar circumstances to "overcome."

How about you? Do videogames play a role in your relationship? And does that role work for or against the relationship and functioning in the rest of life?

For more information on ADHD, please visit the website for the national non-profit CHADD.

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Gina Pera