Are Alcohol and Drugs True Friends or False Friends?

The whole bill against alcohol is its treachery. Its happiness is an illusion and seven other devils return. —William James, American philosopher and psychologist (1842-1910)

While William James’s comment is about alcohol, it can be extended to other drugs and to foods that are high in the trifecta of sodium, fat, and sugar. These substances can bring so much to us at first.

There’s a tingle of excitement cracking open a bottle of beer, striking a match, or tearing open the bag of chips. That tingle lets us know we can feel something. There’s comfort in the rituals of our use; we perhaps feel as if we create some order or have some control in our lives.

We may feel connected to others; a smoking break brings people together. Sharing a bag of cannabis edibles makes us nostalgic for swapping Halloween candy when we were kids.

We may feel more connected to our own selves, especially if we feel as if we need to mask parts of ourselves or pass as something we are not. A warm fuzzy feeling might replace the dread we always feel, which lessens an ever-present angst.

The release that comes from that first shot, inhalation, or bite tells us that at least one thing right now is OK. This provides a sense of security, which may be poignantly felt when so much else in the world is insecure.

We may feel a lightness or euphoria that pulls us out of the drudgery of our ordinary life and helps us believe that maybe things can be better. For all these reasons, alcohol, other drugs, and food feel like friends.

These friends seem to give us so many things that we didn’t even know we were missing. Once we experience them, we wonder how we lived without them for so long. We surely would not want to live without them now.

These substances are generous friends; they’re always there for us and make no demands. Oh, but they will start asking for something in return. At first, we may not even notice. The requests may start small; stay for a while and have a little more. Have a drink before going out with friends. Just finish that box of Hostess cupcakes because there are only three left. Buy an extra pack of cigarettes so that you don’t have to do it later. Have an extra cannabis gummy because it was a stressful day. You deserve it.

We have an incentive not to notice or at least to minimize these changes. These substances have been our friends, and now our experiences with them are changing. No one likes losing a friend, especially one who has been so helpful and such a source of many goods such as connection, warmth, security, lightness, and support.

These friends have made us feel more like ourselves or the people we always thought we were meant to be. Losing them would feel like losing parts of our own selves that we have only just discovered.

We may tell ourselves we will lose those good things if we change our use. This is a reason why so many people are reluctant to change even when they come to see that their use comes with a bill made hefty by compounding interest. Those seven devils are coming to collect.

Discomfort may come first in the form of a hangover, fogginess, enervation, or overstimulation. The discomfort is psychological too; on some level, we are unpleasantly surprised by these feelings and sensations.

Discomfort invites regret, wishing we had not overindulged. We may even kick ourselves because we know better.

We may quickly slide into disappointment that we have acted in these ways, especially when it becomes clear what happens when we do. We are disappointed that we broke promises to ourselves and others.

Self-loathing appears when we start to see ourselves as weak; we are failures because we are not able to exert better control over our own consumption. We are failures because we see ourselves as no longer up to scratch; we miss the mark by a mile. We’ve become the people we always swore we would never be.

Around our substances, we start to experience dread. We may not even like the effects anymore, yet we still want and consume those substances with reckless abandon.

We may begin to feel disconnection from other people as we try to hide our use and its effects. We may also feel disconnected from our own selves, especially those parts that we pruned as our use accelerated.

The seventh devil is fatalism, the sense that nothing we do matters. Why even bother trying to change? We may as well just give up.

Alcohol, other drugs, and foods high in the trifecta of sodium, sugar, and fat can become false friends. As Khalil Gibran wisely observes, “Fake friends are like shadows: always near you at your brightest moments, but nowhere to be seen at your darkest hour.” Those false friends can bring your darkest hour.