Relationships and Our Drugs of Choice

May 13, 2024

I stopped drinking alcohol recently. I am not sure how long I will continue to make this choice. Before anyone on either “side” of this topic gets too excited, I am not here to get on a soapbox or to disparage anyone’s choice to partake or not to partake of alcohol. That isn’t my objective here at all. In fact, that isn’t the point or topic of this writing. Hopefully, my point will become clear as we go along.

What I have to say does start with my own story. I grew up in a highly conservative religious community and a family of teetotalers. Alcohol was not part of my life on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. I did not drink in high school. I also did not drink in college except for a few of times. Somewhere at the end of college and the beginning of graduate school I started drinking alcohol every now and then. For maybe very apparent reasons to you, I had an internal narrative about alcohol as it being edgy, special, elitist and cool. Alcohol also represented letting go...taking a breather. Relaxing. Not caring so much. Not working so damn hard.

I had been a really good kid growing up, maybe rigidly so. I worked really hard in school, worked really hard playing tennis and went to church a LOT. Did I mention that I worked really, really hard? My standards for myself were very high. I attended a boarding school where the girls would all pile up at night after homework hours to watch a few favorite shows before bed. I think I participated once. I almost always spent that time studying.

I am not sure I knew how to relax. My wife and one of my daughters think I have undiagnosed ADHD. Maybe. I definitely have an internal motor that seems to have a broken “off” switch. I learned to work hard, be very focused, and stay incredibly structured in order to succeed in school.

For other reasons I struggled at times to feel completely comfortable in relationships. I loved my friends dearly AND, like many adolescents, I also felt “different” and a bit socially awkward. Perhaps these were early signs of core parts of my nature: high sensitivity, a bit of neurodivergency, and unknown queerness.

My mother struggled with depression, and perhaps her own undiagnosed neurodivergency, for much of my growing up years, making emotional closeness with her a challenge. There wasn’t a lot of warmth in our relationship. I usually felt as though I was not quite what she wanted, mostly, I think, due to her own challenges with communication and relational intimacy.

So, when alcohol hit my brain in my early 20’s, my body was like: “Hell, YES. THIS is what is feels like to relax.” Alcohol became my “off switch”, my confidence, and the warmth I was yearning for.

I was never a heavy drinker. I am not what anyone would call anywhere close to being an alcoholic. For that reason, it would be easy to avoid or miss out on being curious about my relationship with alcohol. We are so good at telling ourselves things like “well, I’m not THAT bad” or “I don’t drink like THAT PERSON so I must be ok.”

My story is not unusual. There is nothing about my experience that is unique or interesting or very different from most people’s stories of alcohol use. I have heard a lot of these stories in my work as a therapist.

I lead groups for a few different topics and experiences. One that I have offered for a few years now is for “Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents”, based on the book by the same name authored by Dr. Lindsay Gibson. This group tends to attract incredibly insightful people with hard earned wisdom alongside of unique stories and relationship wounds. The topic of alcohol and drug use, addiction and self-medicating almost always comes up. In one group, a participant made a startling observation: “Alcohol feels like a really good mother.”

I got it. I knew what he was saying. Alcohol FEELS like a really good mother. Warm, consistent, available, dependable, soothing, uncomplicated. Of course, all of these attributes are in the moment of using.

Journalist, Johann Hari, in his 2015 TED Talk “Everything You Know about Addiction Is Wrong,” does a beautiful job describing the connection between relationship disconnection and addiction. His TED talk has been viewed over 21 million times.

Essentially, Hari speaks to this idea that my group participant was describing.

The opposite of addiction is not abstaining.

The opposite of addiction is connection or bonding to other humans.

Addiction, or drug and alcohol use, often becomes a relationship substitute when relationships feel hard and inaccessible.

Last week a senior at my daughter’s high school died from fentanyl poisoning. He was in marching band with my oldest daughter. He was in class with my second daughter.

He died three weeks before he was going to graduate. Three weeks before graduation. It is completely heart breaking. A true tragedy.

Our county (Travis County in Texas) has seen a recent 1000% increase in fentanyl poisoning. The same week this young man died, 8 people total died in our county from fentanyl. In ONE week.

Alcohol and drug use has increased in our country over the last years.

So have rates of loneliness and isolation.

One of my best friends lives on the other side of the country and we keep contact through the video messaging app, Marco Polo. In a recent exchange, we talked through a recent slowing down of our messages to each other in the midst of busy lives. Without contact, I noticed my brain creating stories about the lack of contact. I had a part of me who wondered if I had said something wrong. I wondered if I had offended her in some way. I also had another part of me who knew that it was just a very busy season for both of us. It always was each year. I sat on those thoughts and feelings for a couple of weeks. I wanted to reach out and ask, but I also didn’t want to “make a big deal” or “bother her” or “be too sensitive.” I didn’t want to make her feel bad or to make things awkward. I also knew that our friendship was pretty solid and I had past experiences that reassured me that checking in would go well.

So, I sent a Marco Polo and checked in on my wonderings. As I expected, the exchange went smoothly. She thanked me for “being so good with communication.” I found this compliment interesting. Was checking in to see if everything was ok between two longtime friends considered “good communication?” Since when?

We processed a bit and I made the observation that friendships these days fade easily for so many reasons. We are busy, life gets crazy…and it is easy to step away from someone you don’t see every day at the market or across the yard. We have endless options of contact in our lives so making the effort to check in to see if everything is ok is work we can more easily avoid.

Rather than deal with a hard moment with a friend, it is easier to “swipe left.”

We can unfollow and unfriend. We can block and disconnect. We can literally erase people from our lives. And, then find the next distraction to help us forget.

I want to pause and acknowledge that sometimes unfollowing and unfriending, blocking and disconnecting is EXACTLY what you need to do and is the very best choice.

In a recent session, I heard this wisdom: “In our world, we demand sameness for relationship and connection. It wasn’t like that in the past. We connected over shared experiences or objectives. Relationships came not because we were the same or believed the same, but because we were in this…whatever THIS was…we were in this together.”

I don’t know if many of us feel like we are in this together with very many people in our lives. And in the midst of disconnection, our brains get busy with stories about ourselves and others, making the divide between people feel much larger than it is and making it more difficult to reach out across the perceived chasm.

So we turn to our drugs of choice. And, for some people that is alcohol. For others it is shopping. Overworking. Over parenting (yes, I said it). Over exercising. Information hoarding (googling anything and everything). Social media checking and scrolling.

All “good mothers.” And “good friends.” And “good dads.” And “good partners.”

Consistent, available, dependable, soothing, warm, uncomplicated.

Relationships, on the other hand, ARE inconsistent, complicated, unpredictable, messy and imperfect. They are real and rich and textured and rife with beautiful imperfections that make them true works of art.

And they DO require work. The art of relationships requires work.

They also require an ability to tolerate discomfort, the unknown, difference, inconsistency, and change.

McDonald’s food is easy, predictable, uncomplicated, and dependable. Every time you open that McDonald’s cheeseburger, no matter where you are in the world, you know what you are going to get. There is absolutely no need for the ability to tolerate the unknown or difference or inconsistency. McDonalds, like most fast-food chains, have mastered mass production that offers the complete comfort of predictability.

My brain often craves that predictability. Fast food…fast distractions…are so less complicated. They are warmly soothing in the midst of a stressful and unpredictable world.

Of course, my body would show the signs of consuming that kind of food on a regular basis.

I started being curious about how my brain was responding to alcohol. I was curious if I was using it in a way that curtailed developing intimate connection with others and with myself. Had it become a more regular habit that crept in as an easy “go to” in the midst of an incredibly hard season of several years: Divorce, coming out, losing relationships, moving, marriage, COVID, parenting, starting a business, health challenges, etc. etc, etc.

And, good grief. Who doesn’t mindlessly reach for something that feels good when the world is overwhelming?

In my work each week as a therapist I can tell you… most people do. Most people mindlessly reach for quick, reliable fixes to bring comfort, security, warmth, solace, consistency, and predictability.

Most people have their version of a “good mother.” And “good friends.” And a “good dad.” And “good partners.”

Consistent, available, dependable, soothing, warm, uncomplicated.

Most people are exhausted, strapped for time, weighted with unrealistic expectations fueled by societal narratives and riddled with anxiety.

Many people are living a life not only “on the edge” but also living life “edgy” most of the time.

I talked about this issue in my previous letter from a therapist. Our world is LOUD. Literally and figuratively. Both inside our heads and outside of our homes. Intentionality at creating quiet and the ability to self-regulate is a privilege many people do not have due to the demands of their life context.

Easy “go to’s,” convenient “drugs of choice” are not deliberate attempts at self-sabotage. They WORK. In the moment, they absolutely work.

Relationships, connection, bonding… can feel elusive and hard at best, risky and threatening at worst.

Connection…the hard work of building and maintaining relationships…is challenging for people for so many reasons. Past trauma. Past relationship hurts. Working two and three jobs to take care of their family. Feeling disjointed from those you called loved ones in the past due to political or religious differences. Mental health struggles.

And, you see, this letter from a therapist isn’t about addiction or drugs of choice or quick fixes we reach for to help us survive in a crazy world. It is about deep human connections…and doing the risky and messy work of creating beautiful relational pieces of art.

I am not in the business of offering answers. In fact, good therapists are taught NOT to give answers to clients. That would be too easy, not very honest, not very helpful and just plain dismissive. The last thing a therapist needs to become is just one more voice in a person’s life telling them what to do.

So no answers here, but some things to consider.

1. Make your circle smaller. So, yes, yes, I know I challenged the idea of unfollowing and unfriending as a way of avoiding deeper relationship work and connection. However, sometimes when we have a huge circle, that circle is shallow with very little depth in any relationships. The numbers might make you feel good about yourself, but very little connection and bonding is probably happening. If something feels hard with one friend, you can skip over to another friend and never really sit with the messy work of relationships.

2. Be curious about what you reach for. When you are stressed, overwhelmed, and hurting what are your go to’s to bring you distraction or comfort? What is YOUR drug of choice?

3. Keep showing up. Reach out. Send a text. Shoot over an email. Make a phone call. Comment on someone’s post. Notice any discomfort or stories showing up when you do. Be curious about any tendency to drop back and wait for people to reach out to you.

4. Notice the stories you tell yourself about others when you don’t have contact with them. What does your brain get busy telling you about others? Are the stories helpful? Are they kind to you and to others? An easy way to do this is to finish this sentence: “The story I’m telling myself right now is…” and see what comes up. Write it out. You might be surprised. Where do these stories come from? Are they stories that seem to show up over and over, no matter who the other person is?

5. Reflect on your past relationships and what experiences you have had that make it feel hard and even dangerous to be close to others. I am guessing those experiences taught you a lot and sometimes those lessons protect us and other times those lessons isolate us.

I’m not sure if I will drink alcohol again. I recognize that the discussion around alcohol is about way more than what I have explored here. We could talk about how people who have anxiety and ADHD are more likely to drink to self-medicate. We could talk about the constant messages in our culture that perpetuate the idea that alcohol is cool, sexy, smart, and fun. We could talk about dopamine and blood sugar and cancer. I know that there is so much more to say on this topic. Please, hear me out. I in NO WAY am putting the burden of responsibility on anyone to just quit their “drug of choice” that is helping them survive this sometimes harsh world. Our culture does not make it easy for anyone to just walk away from any of the common culprits: Shopping. Overworking. Over parenting. Exercising. Information hoarding. Social media checking and scrolling. Think about it, our world inundates us with opportunities to reach for all of these things all of the time. In fact, they are touted as normal or even the ideal.

For me, I was curious. If I stopped drinking alcohol what would I learn about myself? It has been over a month. I have already learned that I associate alcohol with relaxing on the weekends. My brain automatically pairs certain foods with alcohol. I want to create a different relationship with my weekend, relaxing and food outside of alcohol. I learned that I think of alcohol when I am physically in pain, which is a regular experience for me due to my own health journey. I have immense compassion for myself around this knowledge. Of course, I want a drink of wine when I am hurting. Wine is known to numb pain receptors in the brain. It WORKS. What does it mean for me to sit with this pain and get to know it…what could have triggered it, what it might need from me (like slowing down).

I had a doctor’s appointment with my cardiologist last week and I fished for an answer from her. I think I wanted her to tell me that it was ok to have a glass of wine once a week. “I stopped drinking any alcohol. I keep trying to find some research that tells me it is ok to have a drink every now and then.” She didn’t bite. “We have more data now. It is a neurotoxin. I hate to be a party pooper, but it just isn’t good for you. It is liquid poison.”

Ouch. Alrighty then. Mocktails for now, it is.

But, girl, I am pretty sure the yum yum sauce I put on my fried rice yesterday is a neurotoxin, too. So, again, I am not saying I am foregoing a glass of wine for the rest of my life.

I am excited about this current adventure I am on. I am headed to the beach in a couple of weeks with my wife and then to New Orleans to be with a friend for a weekend. I am looking forward to seeing how these experiences feel without reaching for alcohol. With my hands and mind free, I can’t wait to see what I get to reach for, touch and hold instead…what connections I will get to experience and what the relationship artwork will look like.

That’s what I have to say today. I am guessing you have something to say, too. Happy to hear it.

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Letters from a Therapist

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