Relating to Jordan Peterson's Experience with Alcohol.
Kids that break rules, those that don't, and the ones in between.
I recently came across this conversation between Jordan Peterson and the insightful hosts of 'The Iced Coffee Hour' Podcast. It captivated me, as I’ve been a fan of Jordan for some time now and I'd never before heard Jordan discuss his struggles with alcohol—a journey that closely mirrored my own.
Alcohol was my primary vice.
While some consumption habits encouraged by family and friends seemed harmless at the time, they eventually led to greater suffering. My journey began with excessive television, video games, ultra-processed foods, and sugar before my teens. It then progressed to marijuana, alcohol, sex, and other substances in my teens and college years. This path ultimately culminated in a pursuit of sensual pleasure.
For the past two and a half years, I've either drastically reduced my consumption or completely abstained from alcohol. This has been challenging, considering I began drinking at 14 and I'm now 31.
Jordan Peterson has significantly influenced my life, particularly regarding personal responsibility, psychological clarity, finding meaning, and recently, developing spiritual devotion. His description of his past relationship with alcohol closely mirrors my own. As is typical for him, his explanation of alcohol's physiological and psychological effects is piercingly truthful, at least for specific cohorts of people.
Alcohol is a potent anxiety-reducing drug. For some, it can act as a psychomotor stimulant similar to cocaine and foster a sense of social belonging akin to heroin. When he described this, it resonated with me, as I had experienced all three effects when I drank in life.
In youth, there's a dynamic between having the courage to explore the unknown—trying alcohol, other substances, and risky experiences—versus abstaining out of fear or knowledge of the consequences. The abstaining kids may truthfully be cowards but cloak themselves as morally superior for not experimenting. Jordan states:
"What did Nietzsche say about morality?…
Most morality is cowardice.
What he meant by that was people find themselves too timid to do anything and so instead of admitting their lack of courage to themselves they put a moral gloss on it and say that the reason they're timid is because they're good."
Kids who grow up without drinking or experimenting claim to be good, but they likely have some degree of cowardice. Those with courage and a daring attitude experience cathartic feelings but risk substance abuse. Their lack of cowardice might bring forth considerable misery.
There are kids who don't break rules, those who break rules constantly, and those in between who experiment with rule-breaking during adolescence. Jordan notes that those who never break rules are at higher risk for depression, anxiety, and dependent personality disorder later in life. Those who break rules constantly often end up in prison. Considering these viewpoints allows us to find a way to explore optimally, even in potentially destructive ways, but more intelligently and rewardingly.
As a teenager, I leaned more into the "courage" (or perhaps stupidity) to experiment with substances. While cautious enough to avoid serious prison time, I still faced considerable consequences. I recognized the harmful effects of pills on friends and steered clear of them, but I drank and smoked weed for years. This led to inner turmoil due to an unintentional lifestyle that poorly regulated my emotions and nervous system—an unhealthy coping mechanism for early trauma.
What began as innocent curiosity quickly became the centerpiece of all my social interactions. Drinking dominated nearly every recreational pursuit, often paired with smoking weed. This lifestyle gradually fostered a hedonistic mindset, fixated on sensual pleasure. Even after abandoning these habits for healthier alternatives, the hedonistic attitude persisted. It manifested in "bio-hacking" (a term I now find humorous), an obsession with longevity, and an all-consuming fear of ill health. Through time and self-awareness, I've gradually reduced this extreme focus on longevity, though I remain health-conscious. Ironically, stressing about health defeats its very purpose—a paradox I've come to recognize.
Recently, I decided to drink again after 15 months of abstinence, hoping to enjoy alcohol only on special occasions. I wanted to see if my relationship with it had changed after years of personal growth. However, I still struggled to moderate my consumption. After a few instances of overindulgence, I felt disappointed and distrustful of myself, believing I lacked the self-control others seemed to possess. While I've had moments of restraint with alcohol in my adult life, the times I've lost control far outnumber them.
A helpful insight came later in the podcast episode. Jordan notes how some people face familial alcoholism and are genetically predisposed to experience more addictive effects, unlike others who fall asleep after two drinks. Through time and experience, I've found this more addictive trait applies to me.
Despite its potentially enhancing effects, excessive alcohol consumption—which Jordan admitted he almost always engaged in, as did I—can be problematic. This excess led to behavior contradicting our moral beliefs—essentially, lying to ourselves. Moreover, long-term alcohol use often starts as innocent, but becomes a crutch for confidence, courage, and sociability. It caused me trouble in multiple ways.
After maintaining sobriety for the better part of two years, it's astounding to realize how much I had relied on alcohol to maintain my identity. I used it to suppress uncomfortable feelings, regulate my nervous system, and as my primary source of enjoyment.
Reducing alcohol consumption in recent years has been challenging, especially while confronting deeply embedded psychosomatic wounds during sobriety. However, it has also been immensely rewarding through the lessons learned in clarity. Jordan's explanation was therapeutic for me, as he possesses the remarkable skill to articulate complex systems within the human experience precisely. His insights into how different people have varying neurochemical behaviors provided grace, humility, and understanding. This fostered self-awareness and reflection, highlighting how all my inner work—even when I still feel fragile or defeated at times—would have seemed inconceivable to my 22-year-old self.
The beauty of continuous learning lies in its ability to offer fresh perspectives and foster a deeper, healthier self-understanding. This conversation exemplified that process for me.