Live Naked AF, page 15
I shouldn’t feel this way.
I’ve been alcohol free for so long—why is this happening?
What’s wrong with me?
These thoughts build on one another and amplify the discomfort. But if you approach yourself with curiosity instead of judgment, your experience shifts dramatically. Studies confirm that most cravings last less than fifteen minutes. I bet you can do almost anything for fifteen minutes.
Cravings can feel overwhelming, like a storm moving through your body. You want to run, escape, or give in. But those feelings can’t hurt you; they are just chemistry in the body. You know the feeling of the spins after getting really drunk? It’s absolutely miserable, but you also know you are okay—and that they won’t last forever. Cravings are the same, and even if the feelings are out of control in the moment, they won’t last forever. When you acknowledge a craving, sit with it, and let yourself fully feel it without acting, you begin to break the automatic loop in your brain. Every time you do this, you weaken the neural connections that create and reinforce the chemical desire for alcohol.
The more you practice, the more you’ll notice that cravings become less intense and less frequent. Brain imaging studies show that practices like this change the regions of the brain involved in craving and self-control. Over time, your relationship with cravings transforms—and eventually fades away.
Remember: Cravings are just neurological patterns. And patterns are both temporary and can be changed. Freedom doesn’t come from resisting or avoiding your feelings. The way out is through. Don’t fight cravings. Don’t ignore them. Move through them. Lean in. Feel it all. Even the discomfort.
We are not powerless. We are powerful, conscious human beings. We have the ability to choose—even in the midst of the most intense, painful chemical cravings. Think about it this way: If someone held a gun to your head and told you they’d pull the trigger if you drank, no matter how strong the craving was, you wouldn’t give in.
An Important Note on Chemical Addiction
That said, science shows there comes a chilling point in addiction when our ability to choose completely shuts down. With alcohol—and any addictive drug—the brain becomes so hijacked that a person would drink even if a gun were pointed at their head.
A few of you reading this may meet the criteria for true chemical addiction—and there is no shame in that. It’s a biological reality.
We can look at some quick math based on US research to understand how many drinkers this applies to. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), only about 10 percent of excessive drinkers become chemically addicted in a way that leads to severe, sometimes life-threatening withdrawal. Another CDC study shows that approximately 25 percent of adults drink excessively, and the 2023 National Survey on Drug Use and Health (NSDUH) reported that 67 percent of US adults drink. Based on these numbers, around 3.7 percent of adults who drink meet the criteria for chemical addiction that leads to severe withdrawal.
For the remaining 96 percent, the power to choose remains intact—but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. And importantly, anyone who drinks can still face the intense, sometimes terrifying discomfort of chemical craving and withdrawal. The withdrawal effects of alcohol on the brain are so intense that they can begin as quickly as twenty minutes after consuming alcohol—even if it’s the first drink you’ve ever had.
And again, tragically, for some of us the chemical disruption in the brain becomes so severe that cravings can’t be overcome without medical help. Let’s take a closer look at why that is.
With a true chemical addiction, the instinctual brain—sometimes referred to as the “lizard brain”—takes over and prioritizes survival over all else. However, because alcohol has confused the brain, those survival circuits misfire, and the confused brain believes alcohol is key to survival. The individual then becomes powerless against the drive to drink—even to the point of death. True chemical addiction is not a failure of willpower. It’s a neurological shutdown.
One of my dad’s best friends, now decades sober through AA, told me his experience of chemical addiction:
I would be fine for days, sometimes even years. And then—boom. I’d wake up throwing up in my bedroom or a parking lot. And as soon as I finished puking—if I didn’t pass out—I’d reach for the bottle. I was drinking the thing that was making me sick, while it was making me sick. It was like watching someone else. I had no control over my body or my choices, and deep inside, a part of me was screaming: “No! No! Please stop. We’re going to die. Can’t you see what you are doing? You’re killing yourself.”
This story is confirmed with research. In studies, scientists will force-feed their subjects, most often mice, the addictive substance until the mice become chemically dependent. This is possible with highly addictive substances, like alcohol, because the act of repeated ingestion can lead to a chemical addiction in anyone.
Once addicted, the mice are observed walking over hot, electrified metal sheets, burning their paws just to reach the drug. Subjects choose the drug over food or water, even to the point of starvation. They will choose the drug over caring for their young, even to the point that their offspring are dying of neglect. I know these studies are awful to think about, and tragic, but we need to face the reality of chemical addiction—when this is no longer a habit or behavior but deserves to be called a disease.
At this point, medical detox and professional supervision become essential. Chemical addiction doesn’t just impair decision-making; it shuts it down completely.
We must try to stay aware of our limits when it comes to resisting cravings. A clear sign that you may need additional support is if, even after learning everything in this chapter and throughout this book, you still can’t resist a craving. This could mean that you need to be physically separated from accessing the substance in order to move through the physical withdrawal process.
Please consult your doctor. This is not something to take lightly or attempt to manage alone.
On a lighter note, for most of us, the power of choice remains. Again, for about 96 percent of drinkers, once we see that cravings are just chemistry—not truth—we can step back. Even if it feels like you might not survive without that drink, you will. The feeling is a chemical trick. And you now know how to spot it. We are powerful. We can escape the trap. We are smarter than mice—and even mice can avoid a trap once they understand how it works.
I love how Viktor E. Frankl put it:
Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose.
In the previous two chapters, you learned essential skills for living joyfully alcohol free. We explored more comfortable and effective ways to say no to a drink—and uncovered why saying no feels so difficult in the first place. We also learned about the three common dynamics that create tension with friends after you stop drinking and how to navigate those situations with confidence and clarity.
Then, with a brief but educational detour into an alien’s perspective, we uncovered the most research-backed, science-supported technique for handling cravings.
In the next chapter, we’ll explore how to build deeper, more connected relationships—so your relationships become more joyful, more supportive, and more fulfilling than ever before.
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To view the references cited in this chapter, please visit LiveNakedAF.com.
Chapter 12
How to Build Strong AF Relationships
To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
We talk about social skills as if they’re something we’re born with. If you’ve ever taken a personality test and been labeled an introvert or an extrovert, you might assume your social ability is fixed. But social skills are just that—skills. And skills can be learned, improved, and strengthened.
Many people believe alcohol makes socializing easier. That seems true—you feel more relaxed and a little less tense when you first start drinking. Your brain slows down, the sharp edges dull, and your inhibitions lower. With that combination, it’s no wonder being outgoing can feel easier with a drink.
Although it’s deceptively inviting, alcohol eroded my social skills. I remember embarrassing myself by talking too loudly and making jokes that no one laughed at—unless they were also drunk. I remember thinking I was hilarious—until my boss pulled me aside to tell me I needed to get it together and sober up. And the next morning was always the worst part. I’d wake up in a hotel room, sometimes not even sure what country I was in, as dread coated my insides. Little by little, the memories would come back. Bits and pieces of the night before—conversations, laughter, confusion. Sometimes I’d recall something fun, but more often it was flashes of getting scolded by a bartender, peeing behind a dumpster, or crying in the hotel lobby as if the world was ending. I’d remember slurring my words, embarrassing my colleagues—and myself.
Looking back, alcohol didn’t give me social skills. I wasn’t building confidence or relationships. I was leaving behind an alcohol-fueled wake of awkwardness and regret.
Alcohol Stunts Our Social Skills
Strider bikes were just hitting the market when my oldest son, Turner, was learning to ride. A strider is a bike without pedals that helps kids learn to balance by using their feet and weight, rather than relying on training wheels. The key difference? Striders teach the most important skill of riding a bike—balance—from the very beginning. Training wheels, on the other hand, remove the need to balance altogether.
Drinking alcohol in social settings is a lot like using training wheels. The most important part of meaningful social connection—being present, listening, staying attuned, and actively engaging with others—gets bypassed when alcohol is involved. Just like training wheels, alcohol can delay the development of these essential skills. And just like a child who struggles when the training wheels come off, adults who remove alcohol often feel unsteady in social situations because they never learned how to connect without it.
If you’ve used alcohol in social situations for a long time, you probably haven’t had the chance to build the foundational skills necessary to feel comfortable socializing without booze. You might not feel confident reading social cues or participating in conversation without something to take the edge off. Alcohol steals the learning process, robbing you of the chance to develop and strengthen authentic social abilities.
Yes, alcohol can make us feel more social in the short term—just like training wheels make riding a bike easier at first. But neither one provides us with the skills we need for lasting success. And here’s another powerful twist: Building real social connections—the kind that come from honesty, presence, and trust—isn’t just what allows us to socialize without alcohol. True connection also helps us break free from alcohol altogether.
Connection Can Prevent and Heal Addiction
Research shows that meaningful connection can both prevent and heal addiction. One well-known example is the Rat Park experiments. In these studies, rats placed in isolation were given a choice between plain water and morphine-laced water. Time and again, they chose the drugged water, developing addiction and dependence. But when those same rats were moved into “Rat Park”—a stimulating environment with social interaction—they avoided the drug-laced water. Even rats already addicted stopped using the morphine water once placed in a healthy, connected, social environment.
This phenomenon isn’t limited to rats. After the Vietnam War, many American soldiers returned home with heroin addiction, a habit they formed while coping with the trauma of war. The government braced for an addiction crisis. But something unexpected happened: Despite being regular heroin users in Vietnam, roughly 95 percent of returning soldiers stopped using the drug. They reconnected with their families, communities, and everyday routines, and the addiction simply faded. These results challenged prevailing addiction theories.
A similar pattern emerged in Portugal. In the early 2000s, Portugal decriminalized the personal possession of drugs and redirected its resources away from punishment and toward connection-based rehabilitation. It opened community-centered facilities instead of jails. The outcome? Problematic drug use dropped significantly despite drugs being both legal and accessible. Once again, the data pointed to connection as a powerful antidote to addiction.
When someone experiences long-term success in AA, the connection they find plays a key role. My friend Beth, now sober for more than sixteen years, credits a large part of her continued success to the community she found within AA.
These examples challenge the traditional narrative that addiction is a matter of genetics, biology, or willpower. Instead, we see that social connection is not just helpful, but essential. Connection protects us from addiction and supports lasting change. Learning the skills of both socializing and forming deep, connected relationships doesn’t just feel good; it is vital.
The Magic of Authentic Connection
Over the past year I’ve led a small group with six This Naked Mind coaches. We ended our year together with a two-day retreat. During our time together, a very unlikely group of people—and complete strangers—came together and formed some of the closest relationships I’ve seen. Friendships built entirely on mutual acceptance and support.
On the final day of the retreat, I led a closing exercise. It was simple. Each person took a turn sitting in the center of the room while the rest of us shared something we had learned from them. I thought it would take about forty-five minutes. It turned out to be so profound, touching, and magical, that instead of forty-five minutes, it lasted more than three hours!
What happened in that space—connection, appreciation, joy, and deep laughter—was more nourishing than any substance could ever be. It was real. It was human. We had spent a year being vulnerable, curious, and radically accepting of one another despite the extensive differences in each of our pyramids of perspective, as defined in chapter 4. And that level of authentic connection changed each of us. We challenged one another, cracked one another open, and helped one another heal—and in doing so, we each found out how to listen more deeply to ourselves.
I laughed harder during those two days than I had in years—sometimes until I couldn’t breathe. That’s the thing about authentic, accepting connection: Joy, true joy, arises naturally within it.
Connection thrives when we’re accepted as we are. In relationships, this is when we have learned how to show our weaknesses, our strengths, and our fears—and realize we are still loved. We don’t have to perform or hide. We feel seen. We feel known. Not for who we think we should be, but for who we truly are.
And that’s the real gift—being known. But to experience that kind of connection, we have to be brave and vulnerable. We have to show up fully. We have to be exactly who we are.
So how do we build deep, meaningful, life-giving connections—especially when we’re no longer using alcohol as a social crutch? Here are some of the most powerful social skills and relationship dynamics that I’ve learned during my alcohol-free journey. These have helped me not only form strong relationships but also nurture and grow them over time.
Curiosity Is a Social Superpower
Curiosity is one of the most powerful and underrated social skills. When you become curious about others, a few important things happen. First, you become genuinely interested in the people around you. And here’s the secret: Being interested in others makes you magnetic. When you’re interested, you become interesting.
Dale Carnegie said it best:
You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.
Second, curiosity helps you become a better listener. When you’re truly curious about someone, you actually listen to their answers. But most of us haven’t been taught to listen—we’ve been taught to wait for our turn to speak. Real listening is a gift, one we’re all starving for in today’s fast-paced, one-way-communication culture.
I asked a few friends to name the top people they go to for wisdom, advice, or perspective. An overwhelming number named their therapist. Why? Because we’re listened to when we see a therapist. A therapist is a paid listener—and that is part of what makes them so valuable.
Now, I’m not suggesting that you need to turn into a therapist at a dinner party. What I am saying is that listening is a generous act. I’ve tried both listening while drinking and listening while alcohol free, and I’m absolutely a better listener without a drink in my hand.
Psychiatrist and author Karl Menninger put it beautifully:
Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward. When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand.
At social events, I like to challenge myself to learn ten new things. It might be ten things about one person, one thing about ten people, or any combination—it doesn’t matter. The goal is to get curious. Every time I’ve used this approach, I’ve been amazed by how much fun I have and how easy it is to form real, lasting connections.
