We all remember the girl who ate her husband’s ashes. Or the woman who couldn't stop sniffing gasoline until her brain felt like mush. When TLC’s My Strange Addiction first aired in 2010, it was the ultimate "water cooler" show. People watched with a mix of genuine horror and morbid curiosity. But the cameras eventually stopped rolling. The crews packed up. The dramatic music faded. Now, years later, the internet is obsessed with one specific question: what happened when the spotlight turned off? The reality of my strange addiction still addicted is a lot messier than a forty-two-minute episode suggests.
Recovery isn't a straight line. It’s more like a circle that sometimes looks like a flat tire.
Take Kesha, for instance. You might remember her as the woman who ate toilet paper. She would go through half a roll a day, snacking on it while watching movies or talking on the phone. It’s easy to laugh until you realize it’s a legitimate medical condition called Pica. Pica involves eating non-nutritive substances. It's often linked to iron deficiencies or emotional trauma. For Kesha, the habit was deeply tied to the loss of her mother. Even after the show "helped" her, the physical urge to chew on that specific texture doesn't just evaporate because a therapist spoke to you for three days on camera.
The Reality of Relapse in Reality TV
The "Still Addicted" updates often reveal a uncomfortable truth about reality television. These shows are designed for a climax. They want the breakthrough. They want the scene where the person throws away the balloons, or the rocks, or the dirty diapers, and walks into the sunset. But clinical psychology doesn't work on a production schedule.
👉 See also: The Entire History of You: What Most People Get Wrong About the Grain
Dr. Mike Dow, one of the recurring psychologists on the show, has been vocal about the fact that these behaviors are coping mechanisms. If you take away the coping mechanism without fully fixing the underlying trauma, the vacuum is almost always filled by the old habit or a brand new one. It’s why so many fans search for updates only to find that their favorite "character" struggled long after the credits.
Why the Internet Can't Let Go
There's a reason the my strange addiction still addicted searches spike every time a clip goes viral on TikTok. We want to know if people can actually change. It's a mirror. If the woman who drank nail polish can stop, maybe we can stop our own "smaller" bad habits. But the updates are frequently sobering.
- The Biological Factor: Many of these addictions have a physiological component. If someone is addicted to the chemicals in cleaning supplies, their brain chemistry has been altered.
- The Trauma Loop: Most participants suffered a major loss. Grief doesn't have an expiration date.
- The Fame Effect: Being known as "the person who eats couch cushions" makes it incredibly hard to reintegrate into a normal job or social circle, which increases the stress that triggered the addiction in the first place.
Consider the case of Jillian, who was addicted to smelling pine cleaner. On the show, she seemed to make progress. But in later check-ins and social media ripples, it became clear that the sensory "high" of that scent was a permanent fixture in her brain's reward system. She might not be huffing it out of a bottle 24/7, but the pull is always there. It's a lifelong management project, not a cured illness.
✨ Don't miss: Shamea Morton and the Real Housewives of Atlanta: What Really Happened to Her Peach
The Problem with the "Addiction" Label
Sometimes the show played fast and loose with what an "addiction" actually is. There's a big difference between a behavioral compulsion and a chemical dependency.
If you’re obsessed with dressing like a mermaid, that’s a lifestyle choice or perhaps a fixation. If you are eating drywall, that’s a health crisis. The show lumped them all together for ratings. This makes the "still addicted" updates even more confusing. For some, being "still addicted" just means they still like their hobby. For others, it means they are still in a life-threatening cycle of self-harm.
What Really Happened to the Most Famous Guests?
People always ask about Nathaniel. He was the man "in a relationship" with his car, Chase. It was a classic example of objectophilia. He expressed genuine romantic and sexual feelings for a machine. In the years following his appearance, Nathaniel didn't just "wake up" and decide to date humans. While he has stayed relatively quiet, reports suggest he continued to find comfort in his bond with vehicles. It wasn't a phase. It was his orientation.
🔗 Read more: Who is Really in the Enola Holmes 2 Cast? A Look at the Faces Behind the Mystery
Then there’s the hair-pulling or hair-eating (Trichotillomania and Trichophagia). These are recognized disorders in the DSM-5. The "still addicted" reality here is that these are often chronic conditions. You don't "cure" them; you manage the symptoms.
Actionable Steps for Breaking the Cycle
If you find yourself relating a little too closely to a "strange addiction," or if you're struggling with a compulsion that feels out of control, the path forward isn't a reality show intervention. It’s boring, slow, and private.
- Get a blood panel done immediately. Many "strange" cravings for non-food items like ice, dirt, or paper are actually signals of severe anemia or zinc deficiency.
- Identify the "Trigger Event." Most of these habits started during a period of intense grief or lack of control. Identifying that moment with a licensed therapist (specifically one trained in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) is more effective than any "shock therapy" seen on TV.
- Practice Harm Reduction. If you can't stop the behavior today, can you make it 10% less dangerous? If you're addicted to a specific sensation, can you find a non-toxic substitute that mimics it?
- Audit your environment. The guests on the show were often surrounded by their "substance." If it’s not in the house, the barrier to entry is higher.
The legacy of my strange addiction still addicted isn't just about the shock value. It’s a testament to how deeply the human brain can be wired to seek comfort in the strangest places. Change is possible, but it usually happens in the dark, long after the cameras have stopped caring. Real recovery is quiet. It’s a daily choice to feel the discomfort of life without the crutch of a compulsion. It’s hard. It’s exhausting. But it’s the only way to actually move forward.