It is said that alcoholics drink for the effect that it produces. It’s a way to ‘take the edge off’ of the stressors of daily life.
For many, addiction is a way to self-medicate the unbearable pain of their life experiences. But is life more painful for addicts and alcoholics? I believe it is and here is why. I recently came across research on the neuroscience of addiction that may confirm this. There is a part of the survival brain, in the limbic system, called the amygdala, where fear (& hurt ) are stored. This research showed that people who are susceptible to addiction, who have brains that misfire and flood the system with dopamine (“I gotta have it”), appear to have an overactive amygdala.
I’m not sure how much of this is nurture vs. nature, but it seems that for addicts, our emotional responses are firing more often than normal. It didn’t help that my home was a scary place to grow up in. My father was a violent alcoholic and when he came home it was never clear who he was going to take his rage out on. My amygdala was on hyper-alert; vibrating and throbbing with fear. Not that I could’ve articulated that to anyone. I wasn’t able to label ‘fear’ as a child or even as an adult prior to recovery.
Research also shows that neglect is perceived as a ‘threat’ to infants and young children. It’s not necessary to have been assaulted or abused, to feel easily hurt, abandoned, or rejected later in life. It was only when I began to do my emotional healing work, that I could name the feeling that went with a particular set of sensations. I can still remember the moment I first identified fear. It was such a relief to put a name to what I had felt all of my life. It helped me to make sense of and validate so much of what I had gone through.
And besides, it turns out when we can name our emotions, it has a powerful effect in reducing their intensity. It really does help us to feel better when we are emotionally intelligent. If it’s true that addicts have an overly active amygdala, this means that we are registering fear (and hurt) more often. Not only for the obvious big things but also for the more subtle things. When our feelings are easily hurt or we get fearful and we do not have a supportive environment to process them with caring, attentive adults, these feelings get stored away in our amygdala and build up over time.
Later in life, it’s hard to admit we are hurt or afraid because it feels too vulnerable. It’s especially true if we believe that no one cares that much. In my family, hurt took several forms. There were many things said that made me feel that I was a burden, or “difficult”. I was often dismissed – who I was and what I wanted didn’t seem to matter that much. I was shamed by family members and developed a negative self-image – physically and emotionally. Buried hurt and fear are often covered up with anger. We lash out or are critical of ourselves and others.
If you are really hard on yourself, then this is true for you. Having a relentless critic is how we learn to channel the anger inward, which seems safer than channeling it outward.
And we often berate ourselves for even having vulnerable feelings in the first place. It’s a vicious cycle. A no-win situation.
It becomes a life-long practice of beating up on ourselves for not being some version of perfect. When we stuff our fear for long enough, we can be completely unaware that we are feeling it. In fact, we can become “counter-phobic”, meaning that we are so disconnected from our fear that we place ourselves in dangerous situations and think it’s normal and ok. I worked with a woman who came into a session telling me she got in the middle of two guys fighting in the alley in order to break it up. It sounded horrifying and I asked her if she wasn’t scared to be putting herself in that position. She didn’t know what I was referring to. She never let herself feel fear and did things constantly to prove to herself that she was strong and brave.
Too often the anxiety and insecurity that stem from the fear of not being enough, remains hidden, which blocks us from being comfortable in our own skin, no matter how successful we look on the outside. Instead of owning our vulnerable feelings, we put on a brave face, act as we know it all, dominate conversations, control others and tell everyone, “I’ve got this”.
Some people call this imposter syndrome. Some people call it the adult child of an alcoholic syndrome. I call it a survival strategy.
And while it helped us survive at some point in our lives, in recovery it limits us. Being sensitive doesn’t have to be a liability. In fact, I have come to regard it as an asset. It certainly helps me to stay emotionally connected to the world around me in ways that matter.
Having quality recovery means getting comfortable with our emotions. It means getting to know yourself at the deepest level. It can feel scary to even consider, but I often remind people that as adults we have already proven we can survive the hardest of times. We have made it through our addiction with all the difficulties it brought to our lives.
Now, it’s time to live fully. And to do so, we must open up to all that we are, so that we may become all that we can be. Sensitive as we may be, we learn to use our feelings to guide us to healthy decisions and discussions with others. Being grown up in recovery means being in a state of emotional sobriety.
Respectfully,
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