Cortisol is addictive

Cortisol is addictive. It’s fast, it’s urgent, it’s sexy like a car chase in an action movie.

What voice do you hear when you first wake up?

When you look in the mirror?

When you’re tired, angry, lonely?

This morning, getting dressed, I didn’t want to take off my robe. It was warm, it was cozy, and it hid my body.

I could feel disappointment mounting in my chest. Dread burgeoning from my stomach. The heavy cloak of avoidance wrapping around my shoulders - weighted with all the comments of the past I still keep alive somewhere in my nervous system. The desire to get it over with, stand naked before the mirror, and just let the old voices of disgust and hatred rip.

And then before the old reaction could take shape, I interrupted the pattern.

How to interrupt the pattern

I put my right hand to the left side of my waist. I felt the skin there. I exhaled. Shifted my weight to the back of my heels. Pressed into the bubbly parts of my toes.

Felt the fabric of my leggings, wrapping warmth over my legs. My favorite t-shirt from my favorite tattoo shop in Lima. My fav crewneck sweater over that, soft, light.

I didn’t need my past ritual of self-condemnation to feel safe. I’d practiced other things.

When I find myself looking in the mirror searching for signs of confirmation I’m still acceptable, I find myself asking, “To who?”

Who does it benefit if I criticize myself?

Weight was just another lever to help me feel like I was in control. The high that came from making the number on the scale move. And what better tool to use than self-criticism? What better motivator than self-disgust?

The best way to stay stuck is shame. Shame makes you feel like you’re buried alive. And if you’re constantly fighting for air, you’re not going to reach for the most useful, helpful, logical tools. You’re going to reach for the most familiar ones.

Addiction is the illusion of control

Addiction is anything that gives the illusion of control over unwanted feelings. That heaviness in the shoulders, that unsettling in the stomach, that pain behind the eyes, could all be alleviated by our drug of choice. Suddenly the feeling is something else. What a relief.

Using a substance is an effective way to change your state. So is using proprioceptive feedback. This is what I couldn’t describe when I first started doing yoga. That feeling in my muscles, my joints, my bones. Feelings I could cause directly by arranging my body in ways it didn’t dislike. In fact, despite the unusualness of it, or because of it, it seemed to say yes, please, more of this. It was immediate, and it didn’t require a hangover after. In fact, the opposite. More ease, more clarity, more presence.

Once the connection to the body was made, everything made more sense. Getting sober seemed impossible when I made it a moral failing/success. It wasn’t enough juice. But sobriety made sense when I could feel how irritable I was after the third drink. How short my breath was the next morning. How weak my muscles felt. How tunnel vision my thoughts were, looping endlessly.

Sobriety doesn’t fix everything. But what it does is give your nervous system a fighting chance.

Cortisol is addictive. It’s fast, it’s urgent, it’s sexy like a car chase in an action movie. When I zoom out on the things I tell myself I have no control over, and just see it as a bunch of chemicals having a party in my brain, it feels a lot less personal. The lever no longer needs to be something outside of me. The ritual of putting my hand to the side of my neck and leaning my jaw into it is just as reassuring as lighting my bong used to be. The ritual of taking a walk every afternoon is more calming than two shots of whiskey after work used to be.

Why familiarity feels like safety

I don’t ask myself why I want to repeat old patterns anymore. I know why. From a nervous system standpoint, safety is paramount. Familiar feels safe. Self-judgment is unnecessary when self-containment becomes the norm.

If it’s not kind, I’m not interested

The voice I hear now when I wake up is gentle, affirming. Accountable.

The voice I hear now when I look in the mirror is wiser, and challenges social norms.

The voice I hear when I’m tired, angry, lonely, has my back. She tells me to rest, sets boundaries, and reminds me I’m never alone.

I don’t worry so much about the right thing, or the wrong thing anymore.

If it’s not kind, I’m not interested.

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The nervous system doesn’t learn by thinking - it learns by practicing. If you’re ready to trade the cortisol high for internal capacity, book a somatic assessment.