When one part wants a drink and another is terrified

When parts turn towards a drink, they may be looking for relief from something that feels unbearable. Other parts may fear what drinking brings, or what they might have to face without it. We can be curious about both, with care for the pain they are trying to protect.

Gabor Maté asks, “The question is not why the addiction, but why the pain.” This question speaks to the heart of the experience I share below.

Understanding protective intentions does not erase the impact of a behaviour. It offers a way to listen to the struggle beneath it and explore what support is needed.

Sometimes the longing is for relief from something that feels unbearable. That was my experience after a psychedelic journey that, at the time, felt as though it had gone terribly wrong.

Something surfaced that felt deeply familiar, as though my body had been carrying what my mind and subconscious had not yet been able to comprehend. Once it surfaced, there was no hiding it. No putting it back in the box. No burying it again.

Everything felt overwhelming.

My whole system had been violated yet again. But this time by myself.

Looking back, I can recognise the different parts involved. Some had chosen the journey because they wanted the truth to come out. Other parts were not ready. There was urgency within my system, alongside fears that had not been sufficiently heard.

Then came alcohol and drugs.

Parts of me were desperately trying to quieten the feelings, numb the pain and stop remembering. They wanted everything to become quiet again, to somehow return things to where they had been.

I can now understand that the parts turning towards alcohol were also trying to keep a more desperate protector at bay: the one who would later see ending my life as the only way to stop the pain. They were attempting to contain pain that other parts feared would become impossible to bear.

When alcohol could no longer offer enough relief, self-harm followed. Then came suicidal thoughts, and eventually plans to end my life. Parts of me could no longer see another way to make the suffering stop.

These responses were connected, but they were not all doing the same job. There were different fears, different attempts to bring relief and increasingly desperate efforts to keep unbearable pain at bay.

From outside, the behaviours might have looked destructive. From within, I can now recognise parts trying to protect me. Understanding their intentions does not erase what happened or the suffering their strategies brought.

The intention was relief. The consequences brought more pain. And the pain underneath still needed care.

I was fortunate to have people who loved me, and whom I loved. But what reached me was more than knowing they wanted me to live.

It was the experience of being held, physically and emotionally.

I felt love without needing to give anything back. I did not have to explain myself, make anyone feel better or be anywhere other than where I was.

For a moment, I felt safe.

And that love was persistent. It did not disappear when the pain returned, or when I struggled to feel that safety again.

Sometimes knowing I was loved was not enough to quieten the pain. At other times, being held in that love became an anchor. It helped me remain here when I could not find that anchor within myself.

There was pain, and there were moments when I could feel that I did not have to hold it alone.

I have also had extraordinary, deeply healing experiences with psychedelics.

Looking back at this particular journey, I believe there had not been enough preparation or permission within my system. Some parts wanted something revealed, while other parts were not ready to meet what emerged.

Looking back from where I am now, I feel it brought me to something I deeply needed, even though it was not what I wanted or felt able to hold then. It became part of the path that brought me here, with more freedom to love. For me, that is loving without conditions or restrictions, with care for all parts of me, everyone around me and every living being.

I have also come to understand something about the protectors that once frightened other parts of me. Even their most desperate responses came from an intention to protect. I can now recognise love within that intention, alongside the suffering their actions brought.

Behind protection that feels enormous, there can be enormous vulnerability. Meeting that vulnerability has helped me understand why those protectors were working so hard.

Knowing this helps me meet the protectors you bring without being frightened of them. I can hold compassion for their intentions and stay alongside them with patience and persistence. I bring confidence that, with support, they too can find relief from the pain they carry and freedom from the roles they have had to take on.

This experience has shaped the importance I place on listening to fears as well as hopes, seeking internal permission and allowing a pace that respects the whole system. It has also deepened my understanding of preparation and integration: having support to meet what emerges, and continued care for the parts living with it afterwards.