by Carol Gioia

Created on: February 29, 2008   Last Updated: August 22, 2010

Helium.com is addictive.  I am living proof.  My compulsion began with my very first taste of instant publishing on Helium.com.   Pretty soon, one article a day was not enough to quell my craving. I began to write two at a time, and sometimes three. When I wasn't actually writing, I was thinking about writing, dreaming about it.

Then I tried a little rating, another component of Helium, which is equally habit forming. I learned through eavesdropping in the community forums, that the more I rated, the more my own articles would move through the rating queue. I believed it because I wanted to believe. I couldn't get enough of the adrenalin rush that occured when an article worked its way up to number one. Just to keep those articles moving, I would get up in the middle of the night and sneak a few rates.

Eventually it wasn't enough to roam through the channels and partake of existing titles. I began to initiate my own titles. Sometimes others would follow my lead, but more often I was out there all alone, unable to get a rate. I would overcompensate by writing to additional existing titles, but those orphan articles continued to eat away at my virtual self esteem. I tried to fill the empty void I was feeling with even more articles and a continuous stream of rating.

I wrote with wild abandon, and in such excess that I eventually started seeing stars.

Satisfying my own writing desires was not enough. I didn't want to write alone. I invited members of my own family to join me in my addiction.

My obsession with Helium reached an all time high. I began to cheat, lie and steal. I cheated my family of time, lied to my spouse about what I had done all day, and stole moments at the computer in the dark of night.

As neglected responsibilities in my real life began to pile up, it became obvious I would have to modify my behavior. I prayed fervently for the strength to accept what I could not change, the courage to change what I could, and the wisdom to know the difference. I found the answer to my prayer in the leapfrog.

When I discovered I could get the same high from recycling my old articles into new and improved versions of their former selves; I leaped and leaped. Sometimes it worked. Other times it was a futile exercise of complete rejection.

I became prone to mood swings and acquired a penchant for talking to myself.

In an effort to learn how to make wiser choices, I voluntarily entered a critique forum. There I could mingle with others with the same condition, swap experiences and give and take advice in an effort to improve. My addiction continued to manifest itself as I continued to leap at every opportunity. My vision was impaired by my habit for I continued to see even more stars.

I made a promise to myself to only rate ten sets of articles a day. I broke the promise the same day. I had hit rock bottom. I realized I would have to come out of the closet, own my errant behavior, make a full confession and pay the consequences for my obsessive fixation with Helium.com.

Now, I try to limit myself to writing articles only when I have something to say. I rate consistently, but not fanatically, and continue to critique in moderation.

The residual symptoms of my addiction remain, however, a constant reminder of my former weakness. I have recurring dreams about frogs, and I wake up in the middle of the night with a persistent itch to write and rate.

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