Let’s Stop Taking Our Relationship With Alcohol Personally

It’s normal to have a problem drinking less.

Image by Craig Adderley on Pexels

If you’ve ever tried to cut back on your drinking, only to find yourself wondering — why isn’t it easier for me to drink less? You are not alone. At least, I’m with you.

Someone I loved died from drinking too much in one sitting. And that brutal reality woke me up. I stopped drinking because I was devastated and angry. I couldn’t bear continuing to consume the substance that killed her.

By then, I was no longer a heavy drinker. By some standards, I might have even been a light drinker. It became immediately obvious to me that I had a lot to unwind. And even that one drink a day (just like my great-grandmother always had) was enough to keep me tethered to the deep groove in my nervous system that was organized around alcohol.

Eventually, drinking only offers relief from craving, and no longer offers the experience of pleasure.

It’s been two years, and it might be forever. I don’t know yet. Watching a woman on TV sip the top of a full pour of beer in a cozy pub still overwhelms me with nostalgia. And that might always be there too. I don’t know yet.

What I do know — is that I’m so tired of the personal responsibility narrative that excludes so much of what is really going on. Understanding why we drink, and how our brains respond to alcohol has helped me stop taking my relationship with alcohol so personally. And that has given me the freedom to confront my grief and anger directly, rather than feeling buried in the unnecessary shame I think so many of us feel.

The theory goes that our ancestors found rotten fruit under a tree. The extra calories helped them survive, so humans evolved with a dopamine response to signal that ingesting alcohol is a good choice. Dopamine is a feel-good neurotransmitter. Humans want to repeat behaviors that release dopamine. People with a family history of heavy alcohol use will experience a strong dopamine response even from the anticipation of maybe having a drink.

And this is why I feel a rush of nostalgia watching that woman on TV — because that’s what dopamine feels like.

Drinking alcohol also sharply increases the release of serotonin and endorphins, which cause a feeling of euphoria. The brain will respond to these surges by inhibiting the receptors for this stimulation. If a person continues drinking, the brain will continue inhibiting these receptors and become less sensitive. The pleasure will continue to decrease, but the person will likely continue increasing their consumption, chasing that feeling of euphoria.

Without alcohol, your brain is more sensitive to pleasure.

Eventually, drinking only offers relief from craving, rather than the experience of actual pleasure. And in very advanced stages of addiction, a person’s pre-frontal cortex becomes damaged to the point that they can no longer exercise self-control. Which helps me understand what happened to my friend.

She always said her disease was progressive. And I finally understand that. Culture convinced her alcohol isn’t that bad. And her brain tricked her into thinking she needed it.

I continue to choose abstinence to reset my nervous system. Structural brain changes can begin repair after a few months to a year of abstinence. For me, two full years without a sip of alcohol, I still take a Tryptophan supplement to boost my serotonin. Every time I think it’s been long enough and stop taking it, I start to feel like I have magnets in my body pulling me to the floor — and the lights get turned down. And then I return to my routine, 2 tablets before bed, and my spine gets taller, my eyes twinkle again.

And I might need that supplemental support forever. I don’t know yet.

The reality is it’s really hard to be a human. We have very good reasons to want something to help us feel better. We all need joy, love, and belonging like we need a roof over our heads.

Edward Slingerland’s research proposes that alcohol has played a role in human evolution by helping us bond. A slightly suppressed prefrontal cortex helps people be less discerning and laugh when things aren’t that funny — be more likely to play, dance, and like each other more. And alcohol can be a shortcut to bonding and fun.

But at what cost?

If you are trying to drink less and finding it more difficult than you think it should be, I really want you to hear: There is nothing wrong with you. Alcohol is an addictive substance, and our drinking patterns are intimately woven with our feelings of belonging. This means it’s not just physiologically difficult, it’s also emotionally scary. It’s scary to risk losing feelings of belonging. 

Drinking less will be harder than you want it to be. Especially if you live in a heavy drinking culture. I hope we can all make peace with that. And share that blessing with everyone around us.

The wonderful truth is, without alcohol, your brain is more sensitive to pleasure. When you stop drinking or start drinking less — your brain will stop compensating, and you will find more pleasure in everything. And that is a blessing worth sharing.

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If you want more support, there is so much out there for you:

I offer 1–1 coaching
Try Tempest
Listen to the Sober Curious or Quitted podcasts 
Read Quit Like a Woman, Sober Curious, or This Naked Mind

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