Are Hangovers Worth It?
The Art of Stealing Happiness From Tomorrow
At this point, I’ve lost track of how many drinks I’ve had.
Not a typical experience for me. Usually, I’m pretty buttoned up when it comes to booze. One drink is good; Two if I’m feeling celebratory.
I tell myself I’m lucky that I don’t have a drinking problem. It doesn’t run in the family. I’ve never felt compelled to use booze as a coping mechanism.
I typically drink once a week, and even that is more than my body truly wants. The mild headache alerts me to the poison. My body need not say more.
Adult Jeff knows that eliminating alcohol entirely is probably the wisest move from a health standpoint. The negative impacts of booze on my microbiome and sleep concern me, more so than the loss of shrewd discrimination or empty calories.
But there is a younger, wilder frat boy that lives within me. This part of Jeff doesn’t know much about intestinal microbiota or blood sugar regulation. This part of Jeff also doesn’t have the wisdom of hindsight — aka years of accumulated hangovers to keep him on the straight and narrow.
This part thinks drinking is something you do to belong. Or at least it’s something you do to numb the parts of yourself that feel like they don’t belong so you can show up in a way that’s amenable to the group.
This earlier version of me — Teenage Jeff we can call him — evolved before a fully formed prefrontal cortex could exert executive control and ask, “Is this really a good idea?” He developed his drinking habits in a socialized mindset. Binge drinking meant belonging to the tribe of cool kids.
When the conditions are right, Teenage Jeff gets to come out of hibernation and do his party song and dance. Last Saturday was one of those occasions.
Welcoming Younger Parts, Even When They Make A Mess
Teenage Jeff has a refreshing take on life. For him, Monday isn’t preplanned drudgery, relationships aren’t complicated or heavy, and life doesn’t require enormous amounts of effort and logistics.
There’s a freedom, zest, and joy present when he’s around. Like an old friend visiting from out of town, he just wants to have a good time. What happens tomorrow is of little consequence.
Inviting Teenage Jeff over to have a few drinks means “Responsible Adult Jeff” gets a night off. What a relief. #adulting is a lot of work.
Truthfully, I think this is what I’m craving most when Teenage Jeff shows up, permission to set aside my self-reliant, deeply thoughtful, always caretaking adult personality and make space for something a bit more wild and free.
Ultimately, welcoming Teenage Jeff into the mix is not really about the drinking (although that does play a role in shutting down the prefrontal protective personality. More on that to come.)
It’s about giving myself a chance to not be stuck in my rigid adult mind: A chance to let go of the well-worn, well-rehearsed, well-practiced ways I engage with myself and the world.
I think this is often what people are craving when they drink. There’s no question it can be pretty damn refreshing to step outside yourself.
And the next day it can hurt.
This is the circle I’m trying to square: How to embrace my inner teen without returning home to a total shitshow.
Reparenting Myself?
I want to be able to tell Teenage Jeff, “I trust you. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Be merry. Life is short, celebrate. Make new friends. Laugh and be silly. And remember you still have to wake up tomorrow and deal with the consequences of your actions today. Life will go on, so don’t lose sight of your responsibility. Don’t let down ‘Tomorrow’s Jeff’.”
Like a good parent balancing permissiveness and protection, I give Teenage Jeff a loving hug and depart for the evening. In the back of my mind, I just hope he doesn’t crash the whole system.
Meanwhile, Adult Jeff and associated “manager parts” (if we’re using IFS langauge) have been busy at work. They’re no fools. They’ve learned how to contain the damage from too much alcohol and unscripted late-nights. After all, they’ve had years to practice.
They run me through their checklist:
Quality sleep and circadian light exposure, check.
Exercise before the party, check.
Vitamins to support alcohol metabolism, check
Microbiome and GI support on hand, check.
Electrolyte water prepped and by the bed, check.
Low sugar drink options, check.
Healthy food as easy to reach as unhealthy snacks, check.
Water everywhere, check.
Schedule cleared out for tomorrow, check.
Other important business matters tied up, check.
Partner to check-in with, check.
The managers have done their part, trying to contain the damaging underbelly of the teenage psyche: the immature hedonism and uncalculated risk that steals happiness from tomorrow.
And so it goes…
A wilder ride today at the cost of a splitting headache later. The dreaded hangover can be minimized but not escaped.
Integration or Tag-Team?
As I think about this from a lens of psychological growth and integration, there are three pieces that stand out.
Flip-flopping between Adult and Teenage personality structures is a sign of unintegrated parts. I haven’t yet developed the capacity to hold both simultaneously and harmoniously in a larger self-structure.
Integrating these parts doesn’t happen overnight. It begins with cooperation — we’re all on the same team — and requires a period of tag-teaming the other part into the arena until both trust each other enough to know when it’s time to step in and when it’s time to step out. There’s a coach on the sidelines watching and guiding this whole process. This is the “big S” integrated Self.
What’s booze have to do with it?
In Consideration of #1,
It seems like each year I get older, the more deliberate I become about planning my time to be unplanned. It’s a tricky balance filled with irony and contradictions.
Adult Jeff needs to create the appropriate time and place for Teenage Jeff to frolic — freedom, contained.
Is this skillful self-management? Or is this a carefully titrated experience of “tagging-in” that still reeks of parental oversight?
In Consideration of #2
Integration is a unique process of transcending and including.
I’m no longer Teenage Jeff. I’m so much more.
I’m also so much more than Adult Jeff.
Both live within me. Both deserve a spot on the team.
I don’t want to abandon Teenage Jeff just because he can be immature and foolish. He also has valuable qualities to share like humor and enthusiasm.
I don’t want to abandon Adult Jeff. He is high-functioning and well-adapted to the ways of modern life. Just because he can be a bit rigid and controlling doesn’t mean I should prevent him from having a say.
This is the challenge of integration: letting both parts have a voice in my self-system, elevating their beneficial qualities while keeping their unhelpful aspects in check.
In Consideration of #3
I’ve highlighted drinking because it’s easy to identify as a behavior that requires thoughtful consideration. I want my integrated self to make wise decisions about booze that don’t fall into the excesses of Teenage Jeff or the teetotaling of Adult Jeff.
This question of “responsible drinking” is nothing new. There’s the “slippery slope camp” that preaches total sobriety. For those who have a long and dark history with alcoholism, this makes a lot of sense.
Anyone who has experimented with sobriety can probably attest to the ability to have fun without drinking. There’s no hangover. There are no shitty decisions or poor sleep. It’s a pretty nice experience.
Yet I don’t have a dysfunctional relationship with alcohol, which points to the other camp of “moderation”. One or two drinks are no big deal, just don’t go overboard.
This camp argues that the psychological and social benefits of a single drink may outweigh the physiological harms. There might even be some beneficial effects of a single drink on blood sugar (despite the surfeit of other evidence as to its negative health effects.)
When I dig deeper into my own desire (or lack thereof) to drink, it points to a desire for shifting my consciousness beyond the familiar. This is what I said earlier about a chance to let go of the well-worn, well-rehearsed, well-practiced ways I engage with myself and the world.
Sober mind represents a familiar flavor of general everyday consciousness. While this is nice, safe, and satisfying, sometimes I want a different flavor.
One could argue that being with others is a gateway to new flavors and feelings. If I were truly attuned to the relational field, the sustenance of human interaction would provide more than needed for a deeply rewarding experience.
In fact, I’ve verified this in my own experience. There are plenty of flavors of consciousness available without drugs. Authentic relating is one way. Breathwork is another.
If I view alcohol as a tool to change the flavor of my thinking, it raises another question: Do I like its effects?
Honestly, I could take it or leave it. I think it’s kind of a shitty drug as far as drugs go. I think is it a social linchpin due to random historical reasons more than its profound psychological effects.
Within a group setting, it’s a culturally sanctioned way of dealing with social anxiety.
How do you get a group of unrelated, fearful monkies to play nice with each other?
Get them a little drunk, throw on some music, and let social engagement networks override any rational questioning of who is protecting the tribe and what happens when we all wake up tomorrow.
Conclusion?
The self that I think I am is a mishmash of democracy and autocracy. Making it more democratic — aka inviting in and honoring Adult and Teenage Jeff — might be a sign of integral personal development or just a sign that I’m going crazy.
Throwing a party is one way of experimenting with this self-integration.
How much am I able to access these various parts within a social setting?
How much can I harmonize these parts without feeling like I’m totally reverting back to a younger self or suppressing younger parts in a grab for control?
How am I upholding a particular role versus letting myself experiment with new ways of being?
Are hangovers worth it?
I guess I didn’t actually answer this last question. Come over for a drink and we can discuss ;)