Why you keep doing what you know isn’t working
TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT situations. One identical pattern.
Sometimes the behavior isn’t the problem. It’s what it costs you — right after that temporary hit of relief.
On the surface, two clients with two very different challenges — an alcohol problem and a painful family estrangement. Underneath, both clients were caught in the same loop.
The Habit That “Helps”… Until You Look Closer
One woman described what had been happening with alcohol. Not a dramatic story. Not a crisis. Something quieter — and, in many ways, more telling.
She came from a family where alcohol was everywhere. Deeply normalized. Generational. So this wasn’t new territory. It was familiar terrain.
What she began to notice, though, was different. At certain points in the day — especially late afternoon or early evening — something would shift in her body. Not just stress. Not just a bad day. Withdrawal. A subtle but unmistakable edge. A low-grade internal restlessness.
And almost automatically, her brain would offer the solution: “A drink would help.” For a long time, that felt true.
The Moment Everything Shifted
Until she said something that changed the conversation. “I realized I wasn’t drinking to feel good. I was drinking to not feel bad.”
That’s the pivot. She wasn’t chasing pleasure. She was relieving withdrawal. The discomfort creates the craving. The craving triggers more drinking. A self-perpetuating loop.
What Happens When You Stay for the Second Half
Once she took a closer look — not just in her head, but in her body — the rest became clear. Yes, the drink brought relief. It quieted the withdrawal symptoms — for a moment.
But right after the relief came something else:
- Tightness in her throat
- Heat in her face
- A constricted, almost-can’t-breathe feeling
- A wave of guilt
Followed by the second part of the loop: The constant negotiation with herself. Explaining it. Justifying it. Promising to handle it differently next time. “The mental gymnastics were exhausting,” she reported.
The Contrast That Creates Movement
Once you see the full pattern, everything shifts.
She didn’t make a sweeping decision to stop. She just stopped long enough to observe — not to “be good.” But to gather in-the-moment information. And what she noticed wasn’t just the absence of alcohol. It was the absence of guilt and the mental back-and-forth that followed the brief relief.
She described it simply: “It feels like somebody took a lead vest off me.” Now the contrast was clear.
When she drank:
- Immediate relief
- Followed by guilt
- Then exhaustion
- And ongoing withdrawal
When she didn’t:
- Withdrawal — immediate discomfort
- Followed by curiosity
- Then practical self-support
- And finally, lightness — and momentum
But that first part — the withdrawal — is where most people get pulled back in.
Not because you’re weak. Because you don’t know what to do with the temporary discomfort. So you avoid it. Try to distract yourself from it. Talk yourself out of it. Or try to power through it.
But this time she did something different. She got curious.
Not “Why am I like this?” But: “What does this feel like right now, in my body?”
Curiosity keeps you steady when your system wants to react. And it makes room for something else: a little practical self-support. Not dramatic. Not overdone. Just enough to steady herself. Something like:
- “This feels awful. I don’t know if I can do this.”
- “A lot of people struggle with this. It’s not just me.”
- “How can I get through this moment without making it worse?”
Not letting herself off the hook. Just not turning it into a personal failure.
That shift — from avoidance to curiosity, from self-criticism to practical self-support — is what allowed the urge to pass instead of pulling her back into the loop.
A Different Kind of Loop: Shame in Estrangement
An estranged parent described something that looked completely different — but wasn’t.
No daily conflict. No ongoing arguments. Just distance. And underneath it, something heavy: Shame.
How It Shows Up
It doesn’t arrive as a clear thought. It shows up in moments. “Seeing other families together. Hearing someone mention their child calling to check in.”
And then: The drop in your chest. Or a tightening in your stomach. Followed by a quiet, familiar question: “What did I do wrong?”
The Pattern Beneath the Feeling
At first, it looks like reflection. Trying to understand. Trying to take responsibility. But when this parent looked at it more closely, something else became clear. It wasn’t helping them make sense of anything.
It was shutting them down instead of moving anything forward.
- Replaying conversations
- Second-guessing decisions
- Filling in gaps with worst-case assumptions
It felt productive. But it wasn’t leading anywhere.
The Moment Everything Shifted
Then they said something that changed the direction of the work: “I don’t think I’m solving anything. I think I’m punishing myself.”
That’s the pivot. Now we’re not talking about understanding. We’re talking about shame.
What Happens When You Stay for the Second Half
When you stay with it — the full experience, not just the thoughts — the pattern became clearer.
Yes, self-blame creates a sense of control. “If it’s my fault, maybe I can fix it.” But right after that comes something else:
- Emotional exhaustion
- A sense of collapse
- Pulling away from people
- A quiet belief: “I don’t get to feel okay if this isn’t okay.”
And then something even more important: Disconnection. Not just from your adult child. From yourself. From the people who were still there.
The Loop
Once this parent saw it clearly, the pattern looked like this:
Trigger: A reminder of the estrangement
Response: Self-blame and rumination
Short-term effect: A sense of control
Cost: Shame, paralysis, disconnection
And then the cycle repeats.
The Same Pattern, Different Form
Alcohol and shame don’t look the same. But they operate the same way. Both provide relief. Both carry a cost. Both keep the loop going — until you see the whole picture.
Why This Matters
Most patterns that feel like “solutions” are actually forms of relief. They don’t stick because they feel good. They stick because they temporarily remove something uncomfortable. And if you only pay attention to the relief, the pattern makes sense.
But once you include the cost — the emotional toll, the mental load, the disconnection — the logic starts to fall apart.
Try This
The next time you feel pulled toward a familiar pattern, pause just long enough to ask:
- What is this helping me avoid or relieve?
- What’s this like — what does this actually feel like right now, in my body?
- What happens right after the relief — and what does it cost me five minutes later?
And if it’s hard, meet it with something simple:
- This is really hard.
- I’m not the only one who struggles with this.
- What would help me get through this moment without making it worse?
You’re not trying to fix anything in that moment. You’re gathering information — matter-of-fact, not judgmentally. That’s where change begins.
Learn More
If you’ve ever felt stuck in patterns that don’t make sense — but won’t let go — you don’t have to figure it out alone. This is exactly the kind of work I do with clients: helping you take a closer look so you can respond differently.
If you’re curious about what a fresh perspective might look like, I offer brief, no-pressure consultations. We can sort through what’s happening and zero in on how to move things forward.
Clarity doesn’t come from trying harder. It comes from seeing what’s actually happening — and what it’s costing you.
Jan Anderson, PsyD, LPCC, can be reached at LifeWise@DrJanAnderson.com or DrJanAnderson.com, 502.426.1616