Tag: stopping drinking

Can We Have a Relationship with Alcohol?

Posted on by Lisa

Relationships are important. So important, in fact, that there’s a fascinating TED talk by Susan Pinker, called “The Secret to Living Longer May be Your Social Life” (2017), explaining just how important relationships are to the longevity of life itself.

Pinker set out to determine the most important factors for living a longer life. Her research took her to an island off the coast of Italy where, compared to the rest of mainland Italy, a larger percentage of its population lives to 100+ years old. Initially, she conjectured that diet, fitness level, and genetype would rank highest in determining why these people lived so much longer. Her conclusions were so surprising, they inspired a TED Talk.

Drum roll, please. . .

Our relationships help determine how long we live.

Pinker found that relationships are the most important determiner for living a long life.   This talk about relationships made me reflect on my own, especially the one I had with alcohol. I had first heard this concept years ago in marriage counseling. The therapist referred to “my relationship with alcohol.”  This was new to me, and I remember being somewhat offended.  

A relationship with alcohol? That was stupid. You couldn’t have a relationship with a substance. I pushed back inside, I don’t know why. It sounded too immature, and intimate, too serious and committed. I wouldn’t even consider it. That would be giving alcohol far more importance than I believed it held for me.

A relationship with alcohol? That’s stupid!

Fast forward to now, and if you’ve read anything of mine, you’ll now know I’ve changed my tune – and how!  I did indeed have a relationship with alcohol. It was long, sordid, and abusive. That relationship was really difficult to end, but it did serve a purpose, and it took a long time for me to see it.

The benefits of some relationships are obvious; some not so much.

So, How do you define relationships?

That’s where I started, and it was more difficult to do than I had anticipated. There are so many more categories of relationships than I realized.

Some relationships we choose – like partners and friends; some we do not – like relatives and employers.

Some we see daily, for hours — like family members, co-workers, and partners; some, only occasionally or much less – like members of teams, friends, or neighbors. See? It gets complicated doesn’t it?   

Relationship defined.

I started by examining some positive relationships I have with people, to narrow down what’s important to me. I came up with things like:

  • Someone I know/am associated with; and/or
  • I spend time with them, and I look forward to being with them; and/or
  • Get something from them or they get something from me

Can you have a relationship with inanimate objects?

Because so many of these begin with “someone” the assumption is that it is a person. But could it be a thing? Hmm… 

I put this to the test with some other inanimate objects most of us probably own. A computer, a vehicle, or a home. They all work for this simple test.

Can I apply the statements above to any of these inanimate objects?

And yes, I can. I recognize my computer, car, or home a part from others like it, so I am familiar with it, in particular. I do spend time on my computer, in/around my car or home as well.

It’s obvious what I get from each, and while it’s not overtly stated, these things do require maintenance from me to keep them working. So, relationship defined.

Having determined that I can, indeed, have a relationship with an inanimate object, such as a substance, now what?

Based on the characteristics of relationships I say I value, where does alcohol stand?

Oh man! this is where the rubber hits the road. I almost didn’t want to do this exercise. I almost already knew.

  • Obviously, I’m familiar with it. I even had my favorite variety or brand.
  • And unfortunately, it’s alarming how much time I gave alcohol. Considering all the time spent, it was like a part-time job:
    • Obsessing about it/looking forward to it/planning getting it
    • Logistics acquiring it
    • Consuming it
    • Hiding/protecting it
    • Actually inebriated — awake and passed out
    • Recovering from it
    • Repairing damage as a result of all of the above
    • Dwelling on what had happened/ruminating/thinking/blaming and hating myself
  • Ahh. . . but this one is the kicker: What did I get from it? That’s the magic question; or should I clarify and say the answer to that is magic!

What do I really get from alcohol?

  • It changed the way I felt and was dependable for that, at first;
  • Booze gave me courage/nerve/confidence;
  • It stopped the voices in my head;
  • However, it also made me feel ashamed and weak;
  • Alcohol made me sick often — physically, emotionally,and mentally.

I looked at this and decided that I needed to get to the bottom of a couple of things. First, there’s a lot in here about the way I feel. Read over them: “Changed the way I felt”; “confidence, brave, ashamed, weak, and sick” – all about feelings. Hmm.

We are actually addicted to the way we feel.

Through my research and over my years of life experiences, I’ve come to realize that we do almost everything for the way it makes us feel. If you remember nothing else from this entire site, the big take-away is: EVERYTHING WE DO IS FOR THE WAY WE FEEL. (For emphasis only.) We are basically addicted to our feelings.

When I was drinking heavily, and everyone knew it, if someone asked me why I drank, I never could articulate or understand why, exactly. But after the acceptable answers like, “It helps me relax”, “takes the edge off”, or “I’m addicted to it”; I often just said with obvious puzzlement, “I don’t know. It just makes me feel better.” And for me, that was probably as close to the truth as I could get at the time.

So, now that I knew the primary reason I drank – to feel better or to change my state of mind – I had to figure out where the negative feelings about myself came from. This was the beginning of understanding and change for me.

Maybe it’s not the alcohol at all. Maybe if I could change the way I felt about myself, I wouldn’t need or want alcohol. I mean, without this feeling/belief of not being good enough or okay as I am (in social situations, in intimate situations, or in comparisons, for example) would I even want alcohol?

If you were incapable of experiencing negative feelings about yourself/your life, would you need alcohol?

Ask yourself that question, seriously. As you sit, right here reading, if you were incapable of experiencing negative beliefs about yourself/your life, would you need alcohol?

For just a few seconds, suspend the barrage of thoughts. You are incapable of feeling them.

Aren’t you okay? Right here right now? Really? You are.

The second thing I noticed about this list is that alcohol sucks as a friend, man! I don’t know if you saw the video, but dude, alcohol does not make you a better dancer!

Alcohol lies. And it eventually takes more than it gives.

Likely, it doesn’t make you appear smarter or funnier either. When’s the last time you were impressed or entertained by an obnoxious rambling drunk?

And that boost of confidence? Quickly turned into some seriously poor decision-making for me — recklessness, embarrassment, “drunk mouth”, two DUI’s, a lot of money/time lost, and a world of shame, grief, and regret.

Dependable becomes dependent; and that would be me on it.

And toward the end, alcohol wasn’t very dependable. I required more and more to get even marginal effect. Before I knew it, I was hooked in a terrible drinking cycle that spun out of control for years.

Quitting drinking didn’t mean quitting wanting or needing it.

Aha! And there it is. There is the true problem. Because even after I had quit drinking for an entire year, I realized the need was still there, deep down, and I was afraid it could bite me at any time.

Relapse city for me, until I figured this part out as well. And this is where you’ve found me and this website: smack dab in the middle of the purpose alcohol served in my life. It made me feel better about myself. It changed my state of mind like nothing ever had before, and that’s why giving it up is so hard to do.

But not impossible. It is possible to change this, and I did fairly quickly too. That’s a whole other article though, so keep reading, and I’ll keep explaining.

To wrap this up, Susan Pinker’s research did show that alcohol consumption does effect your life expectancy, for what that’s worth. But it was only the fourth most important factor out of 10, with number 10 — (social engagement) being the most important. Interesting.

In Every ‘Addict’* there is a Super Hero

Posted on by Lisa

We all know how our culture views ‘addicts’. Just watch television or movies — diseased, weak, immoral, impoverished, struggling, pathetic.

Well, I see us differently, especially those of us who keep trying to find the solution. To me, we are super heroes, and by the end of this article, see if you don’t agree.

I’m pretty smart, I think; not overly, but just enough. Yet, when I was actively drinking, I could do some pretty illogical (okay, stupid) things.

For example, I used to listen to my drinking buddies who’d jokingly say, “Never mess up a good buzz with a meal”. Ever hear that? Ever follow that advice? Not smart.

Yet, I did it often. In fact, I’m embarrassed to write this, but during the time when I was actively drinking, I regularly chose alcohol over food.

I drank instead of eating. Yet, I love food. I love cooking, eating, recipes, food presentation – all of it. Yes, I’m a foodie.  Food is a joy of mine.

Nourishment is a basic survival need, right? So, how could I have given up my love, and overridden a survival instinct, for alcohol? That doesn’t sound normal or logical.

There was a time when alcohol was more important to me than eating food. This is not normal! Or is it?

As crazy and unhealthy as it sounds, I used to go for days eating very little, but drinking alcohol because alcohol had become more important to me than food.  I remember when feeling hunger pangs, and a part of me knew I needed to eat, yet another part of me said, “You need a drink.” And as if on cue, I drank.

By the time I entered the last rehab, I was a good twenty pounds underweight, and I am not a big person to begin with. I wasn’t only unhealthily thin, but I seemed to be starving myself. Why? How did that happen? I’m a fairly smart person, remember?

Starving myself seems contrary to how we’re wired as a surviving species, doesn’t it?

I’ve always thought that certain survival instincts were hard-wired and dominant. The need for nourishment is an instinct, among others, which we couldn’t override. And thankfully so, otherwise, we would not survive. Yet there I was, consciously doing something I could potentially die from. What is that all about?

In a nutshell, what I’ve learned is how addiction effects brain chemistry, and subsequent behavior – especially when that behavior seems illogical and counterproductive to life itself. And while it doesn’t make sense at first glance, once you learn a little about how our brains work, it actually does make a lot of sense.

Note: For a more detailed account, view the documentary by Dr. Kevin McCauley called “Pleasure Unwoven” ( 2012).

Alcohol triggers the release of many brain chemicals. The important one for this discussion is dopamine – the chemical of pleasure and motivation. Dopamine comes from the same part of the brain where our instincts live – the older mid-brain, sometimes called the “first brain”.

The part of the brain impacted by alcohol is the “first brain” and where our instincts live.

Because this part of the brain is ancient, it operates more like an unconscious instinct. It assigns value to experiences, in a split second, based on a simple criterion: Does this feel good or bad? For this part of the brain, good equals survival; and bad means the opposite.

Consider this example: Neanderthal runs across a tasty new food source, dense in calories, hence valuable for survival, and the brain codes it as good. With subsequent encounters, the brain remembers it and reminds Neanderthal with dopamine, which says, “Go get that.” The first brain rewards her with pleasure each time, which solidifies the association, and the experience is reinforced time and time again. This is a simplified example, but it pretty much works the same way with alcohol.

Because alcohol causes so much dopamine to be released, the brain says “WOW! This must be very important to survival”, and assigns it a high value rating, based on the feeling.

In my brain, after doing that time and time again, alcohol climbed the hierarchy of human survival needs, and moved into a position higher than food. Again, unconsciously, of course.

Alcohol sometimes felt like survival to me – like an instinct. It’s almost like I had to have it!

Remember, this is the best thing we’ve ever felt, right? It’s a “high” like we’ve never known before. It makes us say, “Where have you been all my life?!” (It’s no coincidence that these are exactly the words many alcoholics use to describe their first encounter with alcohol.  I’ve heard some alcoholics say it was like a spiritual experience.)

Excessive dopamine “tricks” your brain.

So, this flood of feel-good chemicals sort of “tricks” the older brain into moving this experience above others. It eventually moves alcohol ahead of food, sex, and personal safety, among other survival instincts.

And that’s why, in advanced stages of continued use, many of us forego eating, intimacy, and physical protection (we don’t take proper safety precautions, or we recklessly put ourselves in danger) for alcohol.

Now, on the outside, and from a modern perspective, this doesn’t make logical sense, does it? I know. I used to say to myself, “Lisa, alcohol cannot be more important than eating.” Yet, it did feel that way. I just didn’t understand why. Now, I do.

From a physiological standpoint, this is perfectly normal and how your brain is supposed to work.

There it is! There’s nothing wrong with us, even though and even when we’ve made seemingly illogical and disastrous decisions, even in the face of potentially very negative consequences.

Congratulations, ‘addict’*, you’re normal.

This is the mid-brain doing its thing. Does this make more sense to you now? I’m not saying it’s easy or even okay, I’m just saying, it’s the way we’re wired and now it’s understandable.

This information also explains why it’s so hard to quit this substance. We must overcome millions of years of evolution. A biological imperative built into our ancient brains must be interrupted and changed. Wow!

Enter: Our super hero.

To understand enough about what’s happening in the brain, and to be able to interrupt an ancient pattern, designed to keep an entire species on the course of survival, sounds super daunting, doesn’t it? (It’s actually easier than you think, but that’s another article.)

We are actually the ‘Super Humans’ among us, because we overcome ancient patterns of survival. Who knew?

I can guide you to Super Human Hero status.

So, in my book, those of us who do it are super humans! And that feels a lot better than being labeled “addicts”, defective, diseased, immoral, and weak-willed. See it now?

We are actually the strongest, most aware, most resilient, and resourceful among us! And all of that can be learned and cultivated.

It’s time for a new empowering view of yourself.

And this feeling, my Friend, is the very opposite of embarrassment, shame, frustration, and helplessness you feel when at the mercy of alcohol. Believe me, I know.

And here’s the real good news: because our brains are changing all the time, it’s possible to refocus that older part of the brain from alcohol to sobriety, when you know how. Stick with me, I’ll be your guide.

* I’m not a fan of the term ‘addict’, as I feel it is stigmatized in our modern society. I do use it here (taken out of cultural context with single apostrophes) for impact.