‘There are no enemies inside. Every part of us is trying to save our lives.’
- Ann Weiser Cornell
Recognising the addictive voice
What I’m about to say might be controversial. And it was also a total game changer in my journey to freeing myself from alcohol.
Meeting your addictive voice with love might just be the piece you need to make sobriety stick.
What do I mean by the addictive voice? I mean the urge to drink. Or, if alcohol isn’t your thing, then the urge to do whatever it is that IS your thing. Drugs, gambling, shopping, scrolling, checking work emails at home, texting your ex… The voice that says ‘DO THE THING.’
You don’t want to do the thing. You know the thing isn’t good for you. But you just can’t seem to stop doing the thing.
Like the inner critic, the additive voice is repetitive. It says the same things over and over again. It has a few stock phrases that, if you listen carefully, you will start to recognise.
With alcohol use, it is of course the voice that says ‘DRINK.’ It might have some add-ons or some slightly different lines e.g. ‘Go on, one won’t hurt’, or ‘you’ve had a tough day, you deserve it’, or ‘we’ll start again tomorrow, just give in.’
It might even sound quite reasonable and charming e.g. ‘it’s such a lovely sunny day! an Aperol spritz would be perfect’ or ‘that merlot on the menu sounds wonderful, you’ll feel like you’re on holiday in Italy if I you have a glass of that.’
But essentially, what it’s saying is ‘DRINK ALCOHOL. NOW.’
And what you might notice is that if you try to ignore it, it gets louder.
Acceptance instead of resistance
Some people refer to this voice, these urges, as The Wine Witch. Some recommend calling it name you don’t like e.g. Cartman (sorry if your name’s Cartman) and when you hear the voice saying ‘Go on, have a drink’ you can roll your eyes and go ‘Oh, that’s Cartman again. God, I hate that guy.’
I have heard people say, ‘just tell it to fuck off.’ I’ve heard this advice in relation to our inner critic too. It often comes with the recommendation to imagine the inner critic or addictive voice as a goblin or annoying person. To picture it as something you despise. And then to essentially yell at it to fuck off.
This works for some people. And if it works for you: awesome. I mean, if it’s working, if it’s keeping you happily sober, then keep doing it.
But. I wanted to offer another approach which might sound a bit risky. I invite you to give this a try, and see what happens.
The practice to try
Next time that voice comes up - the voice that says ‘Drink’ - rather than trying to ignore it or telling it to fuck off, try saying this:
‘Thank you. Thank you for trying to help.
You think drinking would be a good idea now. I appreciate you trying to help me.
And I’m not going to drink.’
What you’re doing here is:
listening
acknowledging
keeping a boundary
Those of you who practice (or try to practice!) gentle/respectful parenting may be familiar with this approach. It is sometimes called ‘setting loving limits’. This is when we listen to our child, we acknowledge their feelings and we keep that boundary. e.g. ‘I hear you - you want another ice cream. You’re feeling angry you can’t have one. It’s really hard. And I’m not going to get you another ice cream.’
There are no enemies inside
Now you might say - but I DON’T love that inner voice. I HATE that inner voice and I want it to leave me the fuck alone!
You know what - that part needs love too. Can you be with that part? And bring it some love. You could say: ‘Yes. I hear you. You hate that voice and want it to leave you alone.’
Or, to use the language of Focusing1: ‘Something in me hates that voice. Something in me wants it to leave me alone. That’s what is here right now. Good to know.’
The addictive voice is also A Something. A part of you. Not the whole of you. Not the only thing you are thinking and feeling in any one moment.
You could say: ‘Something in me wants to drink.’
It takes the charge out. It makes space for compassion. It brings us into relationship with it.
The addictive voice is an innocent part of you that’s trying to help.
If you try to ignore it, you’re ignoring a part of yourself. If you tell it to fuck off, you are telling a part of yourself to fuck off. And that’s not love.
As Focusing teacher Ann Weiser Cornell says:
‘There are no enemies inside. Every part of us is trying to save our lives.’
White-knuckling is miserable
I tried telling my addictive voice to fuck off. I tried begging it to leave me alone. I tried distraction. All of these tactics are different versions of white-knuckling it. And they were utterly miserable. I mean: agony.
Because, for me, all that happened was the voice got louder and louder. More insistent. More desperate. Until essentially I was dealing with it screaming in my head ‘DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!!!’ And who can endure that?
I always gave in and felt the flood of relief when I did. The voice disappeared. Its need had been met. It didn’t need to start up again until I’d finished that first drink, by which point my resistance was down and it barely needed to whisper it.
Addiction is innocent
You might be thinking: but why? Why would something in me be trying to harm me?
Because it doesn’t think it’s trying to harm you. It thinks it is helping.
We form addictions because we try something - whether it’s a substance or a behaviour - that makes us feel good. That seems to soothe our pain. That gives us a boost of feel-good hormones, alongside a shot of dopamine that is designed to make us do it again. To seek out that substance or behaviour that made us feel good.
And the more we do that thing, the more that pathway in our brain gets strengthened. The more we are convincing ourselves that the thing - e.g. alcohol - is helping us. And eventually, if we do it enough, our brain believes that that thing is necessary for our survival. 2
Our brain is telling us to drink because it believes that alcohol is essential to our survival.
So of course it’s loud. Of course it’s insistent. Of course it doesn’t leave you alone when you tell it to.
It’s innocent. It doesn’t understand. It just wants to be heard. Like so many of these voices that seem so aggressive and scary, it is actually scared itself. It’s scared that you’re going to die.
Can you give that part of you a hug? Can you thank it? Can you reassure it that everything is going to be OK?
Because when you do that, you are doing that for yourself. Your whole self. You are courageously meeting this part of you that is SO fucking hard to love and saying: I love you anyway. I do.
Loving ALL parts
The path to wholeness is not the one where we try to change ourselves. Where we cut out the parts we don’t like and banish them. Where we tell them how much we hate them.
When they are hated, these parts don’t go away. They stay with us - often coming out as judgement of ourselves and other people. Or they might come out as symptoms like anxiety or depression. Or they get louder. And end up running the show.
Every time you give in to the addictive voice, you’re letting it run the show.
Every time you meet the addictive voice with love first and then say ‘I’m not going to drink’, YOU are running the show.
And when I say ‘you’ I mean your higher self, your wiser self, your adult self. Or, if you prefer (and if you meditate you will be familiar with this), the ‘I’ that is constant in you. The ‘I’ that witnesses the parts, that witnesses the thoughts, that witnesses the feelings.
The path to wholeness is one where we love all parts of ourselves.
I know it’s hard. It’s SO hard. I am very much on that journey to loving so many parts of my shadow. But that addictive voice? I can tell you that when I met it with love, it got so quiet. And so small. And eventually, it faded completely away.
Some extra tips
Pausing to listen to and be with the addictive voice - keep it company, as it were - can be really hard. As you listen to it, acknowledge it, and set the boundary, you could also:
Close your eyes
Take some deep, deep breaths into your belly
Put a hand on your heart
Acknowledge how hard it is to be with this voice and these feelings
Afterwards, go gently and slowly. Do something loving for yourself. Maybe that means going for a walk, listening to the sounds of nature, having a bath, watching a comedy show.
Acknowledge how proud of yourself you feel. Write it in your journal, post in your sober community or send a message to a friend.
You’re amazing. Keep going.
I would love to hear your thoughts and experiences:
What is your relationship with your addictive voice, or your inner critic?
What do you think about turning towards it with love?
Have you found a different approach or practice helpful?
‘Focusing’ is an incredible practice of being with all parts of ourselves in a compassionate way. We welcome them, accept them and allow them to unfold and resolve as they need to. I cannot recommend it enough. Find out more about it here
I highly recommend reading The Biology of Desire: Why Addiction is not a Disease by neuroscientist Marc Lewis for more on this
I love everything about this, Ellie. For me, my transfer addiction since giving up alcohol is sugar. Truly, I've been battling it for decades, but I think I gave myself a pass because I would say, "well, this is definitely better than hitting the bottle each night." I've just recently shifted a bit into asking myself, before (or even WHEN) I am eating the sugary treat, "What is it you are truly hungry for, Allison?" Even when I know the answer, sometimes I still reach for food instead of saying or doing the thing I know is necessary. BUT......the seeing, the acknowledgement itself, is shifting things.
I think this is bringing me a bit closer to your approach here. Loving that part of me that is just simply trying to make me feel better.
Thanks, Ellie!
Such a powerful, beautiful place of exploration and practice, Ellie. Like you, I’ve never found "success" in hating my addictive voice. Sure, I could stay abstinent that way - as a control addict, I’m crazy disciplined! But I’d be miserable, and that’s not the kind of sobriety I’m after.
For me, meeting the addictive voice - and staying sober - is contained within my practice of Buddhism and yoga. So, addiction is just one form of unskillful, harmful attachment. But, in my spiritual practice, there’s no place for choosing hatred. (Which isn’t to say it doesn’t happen sometimes, but then the practice is to bring the same care and skillful effort to that as well.)