The Alcohol Trap: How We Get Stuck in a Loop and Mistake It for Comfort

Our relationship with alcohol can be likened to Stockholm Syndrome

Alcohol has been romanticised, normalised, and ritualised in nearly every corner of the world. We drink to celebrate, to commiserate, to relax, to escape. For many, alcohol seems to hold a place of honour, something that enhances life. But beneath this sheen of cultural approval lies a more troubling reality: people often become emotionally and psychologically trapped in a loop with alcohol. And, like those in the grip of Stockholm syndrome, they start defending what’s actually hurting them.

The cycle starts innocently enough. A drink to unwind after a stressful day or a few beers with friends on the weekend. But alcohol’s short-term effects, a mild buzz, a numbing of anxiety and a flush of pleasure can quickly condition us to rely on it. When life feels overwhelming, alcohol becomes a crutch. But that relief is fleeting.

As the buzz wears off, we’re often left worse off: more anxious, more tired, more irritable. Our sleep is disrupted, our clarity fades, and our mood sinks. Yet the next time discomfort arises, alcohol beckons again, promising the same momentary relief. And so, the loop continues.

This isn’t just habit, it’s reinforcement. The brain learns that alcohol = relief, even if that relief is short-lived and the aftermath is painful. Over time, we stop questioning whether alcohol is truly helping. It becomes embedded in our routines and our identities.

One of the most dangerous aspects of this loop is the belief that alcohol genuinely benefits us. We tell ourselves it helps us relax, socialise, sleep, or be more fun. But many of these benefits are illusions, short-term chemical tricks that leave long-term costs.

• Relaxation?  Alcohol may initially sedate the nervous system, but it ultimately increases anxiety once its effects wear off.
  

• Better sleep?  Alcohol interrupts our sleep, robbing us of deep and REM sleep. This can cause long-term health problems.
  

• Social ease?  Alcohol lowers inhibitions, but it can also make us say things we regret and damage relationships.
  

• Escape?  At best, it delays confronting what’s truly bothering us. At worst, it compounds our problems.
  

We start to accept alcohol’s minor and temporary gains while tolerating its major and enduring harms. We believe the drink gives us something, when in fact it often takes far more.

This is where the metaphor of Stockholm syndrome becomes disturbingly apt. Stockholm syndrome refers to a psychological phenomenon where hostages form emotional bonds with their captors, even defending them. It arises from dependency, fear, and the need for survival. Over time, the line between threat and protector blurs.

With alcohol, something similar can happen. As our relationship with drinking deepens, we begin to identify with it. We feel lost without it. We defend it, even when it harms us. Like someone in an abusive relationship, we cling to the small moments of tenderness and ignore the consistent damage.

We say things like:

“I just like the taste.”

“It helps me deal with stress.”

“I don’t need it, I just enjoy it.”

These are the same rationalisations used by people caught in unhealthy dynamics. The belief in alcohol’s benefits becomes a form of psychological captivity.

The pleasure alcohol provides is incredibly short-lived. The buzz lasts maybe 20–30 minutes. After that, the body works to break it down, the nervous system compensates, and we begin to experience the rebound effects: irritability, dehydration, sleep disturbance, and anxiety.

We chase that first feeling, the release, the warmth by drinking more, but it never lasts. It’s a carrot on a stick. And tragically, the more we chase it, the more damage we do to our bodies, minds, and lives.

Escaping the alcohol loop requires clarity and courage. It means questioning the stories we’ve been told and the ones we tell ourselves. It means recognising that what we’ve called a “treat” may be a trap. And it means grieving the illusion that alcohol is our friend.

But on the other side of that grief is something powerful: freedom. - Freedom to cope in healthier ways. - Freedom to experience joy without a chemical filter. - Freedom to live fully, not just blur the edges.

The loop can be broken. But only if we stop defending the thing that’s been quietly holding us hostage.