From Numbing to Noticing

I almost gave up on my Dry January last week.

I had an awful day. Do you remember that writing project we did in school where we wrote our own version of The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? I think about that every time one of those days hits.

And this was one of those days. 

Early that morning, I found out some really sad and heartbreaking news from a friend. It’s a difficult situation that I’m still processing. That alone would have been enough to make it a heavy day — but it was only the beginning.

After that, I barely got any work done. Then it led into a long and difficult conversation with my husband, Jesse. We disagreed on how to handle a situation, and emotions were high on both sides. The conversation ended with us in agreement, but I was emotionally exhausted afterward. 

Not long after that, I had a session with a client who was also having a hard day. She needed support working through a lot emotionally, and while I was grateful I could help and she felt better afterward, I could feel that I had reached my limit. I was ready for the day to be over — but it wasn’t quite done yet.

After the session, I headed to the store to grab groceries for dinner. We had a friend coming over to help Jesse with some accounting things. I loaded the car, turned the ignition to head home… and nothing happened.

The lights were on, but the car wouldn’t start.

Jesse had to drop what he was doing and come help me (I know nothing about cars). It turned out to be the battery — an easy fix — but figuring out the logistics took us some time. By that point, I just felt numb… or like I was about to cry... or laugh hysterically.

I finally got home, quickly threw together a dinner that was now two hours late, and collapsed on the couch. I was exhausted and trying to process the weight of the entire day.

And suddenly, all I wanted was a glass of tequila.

I didn’t give into it, but it surprised me how strong that desire was. 

I’ve never been a big drinker. I enjoy alcohol socially, but I don’t always love how it makes me feel. I’ve always been sensitive to it — two glasses of wine in an evening can leave me with a racing heart later that night, or sluggish and puffy the next morning.

I also grew up in a family with a lot of alcoholism, which has made me more aware of my relationship with alcohol in general. I’m sensitive to how it shows up in people’s lives, and I’ve always been mindful to stay far away from that path.

But in the past year or so I started enjoying alcohol more often. We discovered some really nice tequilas that are not only delicious but also don’t make me feel sick when I drink them. In fact, I often feel great the next day. On top of that, some friends invented a sachet called ALKAA that you put in your alcohol and it pulls out the ingredients that are most often responsible for making you feel bad after drinking. Those were also a game changer! 

What started as an occasional thing slowly became more consistent. Not every night — but enough nights that it began to feel like part of my wind-down routine.

And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, I noticed that for me, it was starting to feel automatic.

So I decided to take January off from drinking.

And it was easy… until that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day when I realized that alcohol had quietly become one of my coping mechanisms.

Adaptive/Maladaptive Coping Mechanisms

Coping mechanisms are simply tools your nervous system uses to help you feel safe. We all have them. In children, you see this clearly — sucking their thumb, cuddling a blanket, or using a pacifier.

Our need to regulate and comfort ourselves doesn’t disappear as we grow up. We need just as much comfort now as we did then — the difference is that as adults, we’re the ones responsible for providing it. So we reach for things that help us move through difficult emotions and bring us back to a calmer, more centered state.

The challenge is that many of the things we reach for feel good in the moment, but don’t actually help us feel better long term. That doesn’t mean we’ve failed or that something is wrong with us — it simply means we were never taught another way.

Using a glass of wine, scrolling your phone, or eating something comforting after a hard day doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. It means your nervous system is seeking regulation.

Here’s the important distinction:

Adaptive coping helps you process the stress you’re feeling and return to baseline.
Maladaptive coping numbs or bypasses the stress so you don’t have to feel it — burying it instead of helping you move through it.

This is why looking at how we cope matters so much. The thing itself usually isn’t the problem — it’s the how and why behind it.

So I invite you to gently look at your go-to coping strategies. What do you reach for when you’re stressed? Do you do it automatically, without much awareness? Does it bring short-term relief but leave the stress waiting for you later — or does it actually help you process what you’re feeling and move forward?

That moment I had on the couch wasn’t really about tequila. It was simply information. I became aware that alcohol had become something I was using to find comfort after hard days.

And in itself, that isn’t a problem. Alcohol can feel calming, and it makes sense why so many people turn to it.

The issue arises when numbing becomes the only way we know how to cope. When the goal shifts from finding relief to avoiding what we feel altogether. Numbing doesn’t resolve the stress — it just postpones it.

If you recognize that some of your coping strategies are more numbing than helpful, that awareness alone is a win.

There’s no shame in it. Just information.

For now, don’t worry about changing anything. Let yourself become curious. Notice what actually supports you long term and what doesn’t.

And whatever you discover, celebrate your awareness — because awareness is always the first step.

Updating our coping strategies is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. Our need for comfort and safety will never go away, but our long-term mental health depends on choosing tools that help us move through life, not away from it.

I wrote a more practical, step-by-step blog a few weeks ago where I walk through coping mechanisms in more detail — including how to gently shift them without shame. If this resonated, I’ll link it here: https://www.rootandbloomholistics.com/journal/understand-your-coping-strategies-and-break-the-shame-cycle