Webb Therapy Uncategorized The Weight of Belonging: Why Socialisation Can Make Morality Feel Like a Burden

The Weight of Belonging: Why Socialisation Can Make Morality Feel Like a Burden

At first glance, the claim that highly socialised people find morality especially burdensome seems backwards. Socialisation is, by definition, the process through which people absorb the norms of their community until those norms feel natural rather than imposed. We would expect the well-socialised person to coincide with morality rather than strain against it. Yet a substantial line of thought in psychoanalysis, philosophy, and sociology argues the opposite: that the deeper a person’s internalisation of moral norms, the heavier the psychological cost of living up to them. Understanding why requires distinguishing several distinct mechanisms that produce this effect.

Freud: Civilization as Repression Turned Inward

The most direct source for this idea is Sigmund Freud’s Civilisation and Its Discontents (1930). Freud’s central claim is that civilised life requires the systematic renunciation of instinctual gratification, particularly aggressive and sexual impulses. Civilisation inhibits humanity’s instinctual drives, which can result in guilt and a lack of fulfillment. This is not a side effect of morality but its very mechanism: in order to live in a civilised society, humans must take their aggression and turn it on themselves in the form of a conscience, or super-ego, which takes the place of the pareent as the child matures.

This matters for the socialisation question because the superego is not a fixed quantity, rather, it is built up through the internalisation of external authority, and its severity scales with how thoroughly that internalisation has occurred. As civilisation evolves, the superego becomes stricter, intensifying feelings of guilt when individuals fail to conform. Freud makes the resulting trade explicit: a threatened external unhappiness, like the loss of love or punishment by an external authority, is exchanged for a permanent internal unhappiness, the tension of the sense of guilt. He defines this tension precisely: the tension between the harsh superego and the ego subjected to it is what we call the sense of guilt, and it expresses itself as a need for punishment.

Therefore, a highly socialised person has not simply learned the rules; they have built an internal enforcer that punishes them for infractions the outside world may never even notice, including merely wanting to transgress (break a moral ‘code’). The burden of morality, then, is not chiefly the effort of compliance but the permanent, low-grade cost of self-surveillance.

Nietzsche: Bad Conscience as Domesticated Cruelty

Friedrich Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals (1887) offers a related but distinct account, one that Freud himself drew on. For Nietzsche, “bad conscience” arises when a person’s instincts for freedom and aggression – no longer permitted external expression once society confines and pacifies them – are forced inward and turned against the self. The more successfully a person has been tamed by the “morality of custom,” the more violently their own instincts are redirected against their own psyche, producing guilt, self-torment, and a kind of internalised cruelty that Nietzsche regards as pathological rather than noble.

Where Freud treats this process somewhat neutrally, as the necessary price of civilisation, Nietzsche treats it as a form of sickness, that is, the herd’s revenge on the strong instincts it can no longer tolerate expressed outwardly. On both readings, however, the conclusion converges: socialisation does not simply align a person’s desires with moral norms; it manufactures an internal punitive apparatus, and the more complete the socialisation, the harsher that apparatus becomes.

Wolf: The Demandingness Objection – Burden Through Breadth

A different, less psychological route to the same conclusion comes from moral philosophy’s “demandingness objection,” most influentially developed against utilitarianism and explored by Susan Wolf in her essay “Moral Saints” (1982). Wolf’s target is the figure of the person whose every action is as morally good as possible – a person whose every action is as morally good as possible and who is as morally worthy as can be.

Her striking conclusion is that such a person would not be admirable but unattractive: the moral saint lacks the ability to enjoy the enjoyable in life, because full moral perfection edges out the non-moral commitments, tastes, and idiosyncrasies that make a life recognisably human. Commentators summarising Wolf’s argument note that a moral saint’s hobbies and passions survive only until they conflict with morality’s demands, at which point they must be sacrificed (Brainscape summary of Wolf, 1982).

A highly socialised person has internalised not just a few core prohibitions but an extensive web of obligations; to family, profession, community, and strangers alike. The more completely someone absorbs “you should help,” “you should be fair,” “you should not free-ride,” the more situations present themselves as morally loaded. The burden here is not guilt over transgression in Freud’s sense, but sheer coverage: an ever-expanding set of perceived obligations that leaves little room for permissible self-interest.

This is precisely the structure of the demandingness objection as it is standardly raised against consequentialism: if morality requires maximizing good outcomes, then almost every choice — how you spend money, time, or attention — becomes a moral test, and the well-socialized agent who takes this seriously is perpetually under evaluation.

Not every tradition agrees.

Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics offers the sharpest counter example: virtue is a disposition built through habituation, and the fully virtuous person acts well with pleasure, because their desires have themselves been trained to want the good. On this view, feeling like it’s a struggle means your character isn’t fully formed yet. Aristotle called this being ‘continent’ — doing the right thing, but only by fighting off the urge to do otherwise. That’s not the mark of a well-socialized person; it’s a sign the job isn’t finished. A well-socialized person should experience morality as second nature, not imposition. The “burden” thesis, then, may reflect a specifically modern, post-Freudian picture of conscience as an internal disciplinary agency, one foreign to Aristotle’s picture of virtue as integrated character.

Durkheim: Integration and Social Cost

Émile Durkheim’s sociology offers a structural variant. In Suicide (1897), he treats strong social integration as generally protective, but identifies conditions – cases where someone is so fused with their group’s identity that their own individual life stops feeling like it matters to them – under which near-total subordination to group norms turns self-destructive. For example, a soldier who throws himself on a grenade to save his unit, or a cult member who follows an order to end their life because the group’s cause has completely replaced their sense of self.

His concept of the “collective conscience” implies that deeper integration makes moral rules feel less like personal preferences and more like external social facts pressing in; obligatory precisely because they are so thoroughly shared and enforced.

Synthesis

Three distinct mechanisms emerge by which socialisation could make morality burdensome rather than easy:

1. Depth (Freud, Nietzsche): socialization builds an internal punitive structure (the superego, “bad conscience”) whose severity tracks how fully authority has been internalised, producing guilt even absent external sanction.

2. Breadth (Wolf, the demandingness objection): the more thoroughly someone absorbs moral norms, the more everyday moments start to feel like moral tests. Choices that used to feel free and casual (how to spend an evening, what to say in a small conversation) start to feel like they carry a ‘right’ answer you’re obligated to find.

3. Structural pressure (Durkheim): deep group integration makes collective norms felt as external, obligatory, and sometimes crushing.

Aristotle’s habituated virtue is the counterweight: none of this is a necessary feature of socialisation as such, only of particular pictures of how conscience forms. Whether morality feels like burden or ease may depend less on how much someone is socialised than on what kind of relationship to norms that socialisation produces – punitive self-surveillance, expansive obligation, or integrated character.

Sources: Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents (1930); Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals (1887); Wolf, “Moral Saints,” Journal of Philosophy 79.8 (1982); Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics; Durkheim, Suicide (1897).

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Problematic Thinking Styles (continued)Problematic Thinking Styles (continued)

Hello readers! A few of the cognitive styles below were mentioned in my last post. As humans, we have a tendency to forget things so a bit of revision can be useful.

Many people have cognitive processes that result in overall unhelpful thinking styles that they tend to apply globally across situations and which may result in emotional distress (such as depression or anxiety) or unhelpful behaviours (such as anger or avoidance). Some of the most problematic thinking styles are listed in the extract below.


Mental Filter: This thinking styles involves a “filtering in” and “filtering out” process – a sort of “tunnel vision”, focusing on only one part of a situation and ignoring the rest. Usually this means looking at the negative parts of a situation and forgetting the positive parts, and the whole picture is coloured by what may be a single negative detail.


Jumping to Conclusions: I’m sure you’ve heard people say on television, “Don’t jump to conclusions” or “The truth is we just don’t know yet”. We jump to conclusions when we assume that we know what someone else is thinking (mind reading) and when we make predictions about what is going to happen in the future (predictive thinking).


Personalisation: This involves blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong or could go wrong, even when you may only be partly responsible or not responsible at all. You might be taking 100% responsibility for the occurrence of external events.


Catastrophising: Catastrophising occurs when we “blow things out of proportion” and we view the situation as terrible, awful, dreadful, and horrible, even though the reality is that the problem itself is quite small. A helpful restructuring of this cognition is to ask yourself if the situation will still be awful, terrible, or dreadful in a month. There may be ongoing consequences or stress involved if you lose a job or a relationship ends, so validate the experience you are having but also take a look at the big picture. What’s the worst that could happen? Why is the worst so “bad”? And if you are being realistic about the issue, reach out for some help if you can.


Black & White Thinking: This thinking style involves seeing only one extreme or the other. You are either wrong or right, good or bad and so on. There are no in-betweens or shades of grey.


Should-ing and Must-ing: Sometimes by saying “I should…” or “I must…” you can put unreasonable demands or pressure on yourself and others. Although these statements are not always unhelpful (e.g. “I should not get drunk and drive home”), they can sometimes create unrealistic expectations.


Overgeneralisation: When we overgeneralise, we take one instance in the past or present, and impose it on all current or future situations. If we say “You always…” or “Everyone…”, or “I never…” then we are probably overgeneralising.


Labelling: We label ourselves and others when we make global statements based on behaviour in specific situations. We might use this label even though there are many more examples that aren’t consistent with that label.


Emotional Reasoning: This thinking style involves basing your view of situations or yourself on the way you are feeling. For example, the only evidence that something bad is going to happen is that you feel like something bad is going to happen. I live with anxiety and it can be debilitating at times. I use my “wiser thinking” or “rational thinking” to evaluate whether I am operating from an emotional mindset. You might ask yourself: “What’s the evidence?”, “Does the past necessarily predict the future?”, “Am I angry or fearful right now because that might be clouding my judgement?”. It can be helpful to talk to someone who isn’t caught in your emotional headspace, or perhaps wait for the emotion to subside to think about the situation again.


Magnification and Minimisation: In this thinking style, you magnify the positive attributes of other people and minimise your own positive attributes. It’s as though you’re explaining away your own positive characteristics.

(CCI, 2008)

Internal Family Systems Therapy: Working with the Parts of OurselvesInternal Family Systems Therapy: Working with the Parts of Ourselves

Introduction

There is a moment in therapy that many practitioners recognise — the moment a client says something like, “Part of me wants to leave the relationship, but another part is terrified of being alone,” or “I know I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, but I can’t seem to stop.” These are not signs of ambivalence or contradiction. They are the natural language of a mind that is, at its core, multiple.

Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy, developed by American psychotherapist Richard Schwartz in the 1980s, offers a sophisticated, compassionate framework for understanding this inner multiplicity. Rather than treating internal conflict as pathology or weakness, IFS recognises that the human psyche is composed of distinct “parts” — each with its own perspective, feelings, motivations, and history. Far from being a burden, this internal family can become, through careful therapeutic work, a source of extraordinary resilience and self-understanding.

This article explores IFS therapy in depth: its theoretical foundations, its core concepts, how it aligns with and enriches other established therapeutic approaches, and why working with parts has become one of the most generative developments in contemporary psychotherapy.


The Architecture of the Inner World: Core IFS Concepts

The Self

At the heart of IFS is the concept of the Self — a capital-S, differentiated Self that is not a part but rather the core of who we are. Schwartz describes Self as characterised by what he calls the “Eight Cs”: curiosity, calm, clarity, compassion, confidence, creativity, courage, and connectedness. In a well-functioning psyche, Self leads the internal system with warmth and wisdom, much as a skilled and attuned parent might lead a family.

Crucially, IFS holds that Self is never damaged, even in the most traumatised individuals. It may be buried beneath layers of protective activity, but it is always there — always intact, always available. This is a radical and profoundly hopeful premise, and one that resonates deeply with strengths-based and person-centred traditions.

The Parts

IFS identifies three broad categories of parts:

Exiles are the youngest, most vulnerable parts of the psyche. They carry the emotional weight of painful past experiences — shame, grief, terror, humiliation, abandonment, worthlessness. Exiles are often frozen in the moment of the original wound, experiencing distress as though it is happening right now. Because their pain is so intense, the rest of the internal system works hard to keep them hidden, suppressed, and out of conscious awareness. The system exiles them to protect the individual from being overwhelmed.

Managers are the proactive protectors — the parts that work day-to-day to keep exiles contained and maintain a functional life. They might appear as the inner critic who drives someone to perfectionism, the hypervigilant part that constantly scans for danger, the pleaser who never says no, the workaholic who stays perpetually busy, or the intellectualiser who processes everything through logic to avoid feeling. Managers are often the parts clients first present with in therapy. They can be harsh, relentless, and deeply self-critical — but they are acting out of care. They are trying to prevent the exile’s pain from surfacing and disrupting the person’s life.

Firefighters are the reactive protectors who spring into action when an exile’s pain does break through — when a trigger cuts past the managers’ defences. Their methods are urgent and often extreme: dissociation, substance use, bingeing, self-harm, rage, sexual compulsion, suicidal ideation. Like emergency workers who will break down a door to stop a fire, firefighters care little for collateral damage. They want the pain stopped, now. What might look from the outside like destructive or self-defeating behaviour is, from the inside, a desperate act of protection.

The Burden

IFS introduces the concept of burdens — the extreme beliefs, emotions, and somatic experiences that parts carry as a result of trauma or adverse experience. A part might carry the burden of worthlessness, of being too much, of being fundamentally unlovable, of needing to be perfect to be safe. Burdens are not intrinsic to the part — they were taken on, often in childhood, and can be released through therapeutic work. This process, known as unburdening, is one of the most moving and clinically significant moments in IFS therapy.


The Therapeutic Process: Accessing Self-Leadership

From Pathologising to Curious Partnership

One of the most significant shifts IFS invites is a fundamental change in how clients — and therapists — relate to symptoms. Rather than treating, suppressing, or pathologising parts, IFS invites clients to approach them with curiosity and genuine interest. What is this part trying to do for me? What is it afraid would happen if it stopped? This shift transforms the therapeutic relationship with internal experience from adversarial to collaborative.

This is deeply congruent with person-centred therapy as developed by Carl Rogers. The Rogerian conditions of unconditional positive regard, empathy, and congruence are, in IFS, extended inward — the client is invited to offer those same conditions to their own parts. The therapist models and facilitates an attitude of deep, non-judgmental curiosity toward even the most frightening or destructive-seeming aspects of the client’s inner world.

The U-Turn

IFS uses the evocative phrase “the U-turn” to describe the core therapeutic movement: from focusing attention outward (on external people, situations, or events) to turning inward and attending to one’s own parts. This is not a withdrawal from relationship, but a deepening of internal attunement that ultimately enriches external relating.

Working with Protectors First

A key technical principle in IFS is that therapists never attempt to work directly with exiles until protective parts have been acknowledged, understood, and have given permission. Attempting to bypass protectors — to push clients toward vulnerable material before the system is ready — risks overwhelming the client, reinforcing the protectors’ sense that they need to work harder, and potentially retraumatising.

This principle reflects trauma-informed care at a systemic level. Trauma-informed practice recognises that what looks like resistance is actually protection, that the body and mind have wisdom in their defensive responses, and that safety must precede exploration. In IFS, the therapist earns the trust of the protective system before asking it to step aside — and this is done with patience, respect, and genuine appreciation for the parts’ efforts.


IFS and Attachment Theory: The Inner Attachment System

Attachment theory, originally articulated by John Bowlby and extended by Mary Ainsworth and many others, holds that human beings are biologically wired for connection, and that the patterns of early caregiving relationships shape our internal working models of self and other. These models — secure, anxious, avoidant, disorganised — become templates for how we relate to ourselves and others throughout life.

IFS offers a compelling lens through which to understand these attachment patterns. A child who learned that their caregivers were unreliable or frightening may have a manager who vigilantly monitors others for signs of abandonment, and a firefighter who withdraws or rages when attachment fears are triggered. The exile at the centre of this system carries the original wound: the devastating belief that they are too much, not enough, or fundamentally unworthy of consistent love.

From an IFS perspective, insecure attachment patterns can be understood as the elaborate protective architecture built around early attachment wounds. The work of therapy is not simply to provide a corrective relational experience with the therapist (though this is important), but to help the client develop a secure relationship with their own internal system — to become, in a sense, a reliable and loving parent to their own parts.

This resonates with the concept in attachment theory of earned security — the idea that adults can develop secure attachment through reflective, attuned relationships, including therapeutic ones. In IFS, the therapeutic relationship with the Self becomes a primary vehicle for this.


IFS and Emotionally Focused Therapy: Accessing Primary Emotion

Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT), developed by Sue Johnson and Les Greenberg, centres on accessing and transforming primary emotional experience as the key to therapeutic change. EFT identifies how people become trapped in negative interactional cycles — often driven by underlying attachment fears and needs — and works to create new, corrective emotional experiences within the therapeutic relationship or within close partnerships.

There is rich conceptual overlap between EFT and IFS. Both approaches recognise that:

  • The emotional reactions clients present with (often described in EFT as “secondary” or “instrumental” emotions) frequently protect against deeper, more vulnerable primary emotions.
  • Accessing and expressing primary emotional experience, in the context of an attuned, validating relationship, is transformative.
  • Defensive strategies and relational patterns make sense in the context of their developmental origins.

In IFS terms, the secondary reactive emotions — anger, contempt, numbness — are often the expressions of firefighter or manager parts, while the primary vulnerable emotions — terror, grief, shame — belong to the exiles. The EFT therapist and the IFS therapist are, in a meaningful sense, working toward the same goal: creating conditions in which the most vulnerable inner experience can be safely accessed, expressed, and received.

For practitioners integrating both models, EFT’s attention to the intersubjective, relational dimension of emotional experience complements IFS’s detailed intrapsychic map beautifully.


IFS and Trauma-Informed Care: Parts as Survivors

Modern trauma theory — shaped by figures including Bessel van der Kolk, Peter Levine, Judith Herman, and Pat Ogden — has fundamentally reframed our understanding of traumatic experience and its sequelae. Trauma is understood not as a historical event but as an unresolved physiological and psychological response that continues to shape perception, behaviour, and relationship in the present.

IFS is inherently and deeply trauma-informed. Several key principles align precisely:

Safety first. IFS protocol requires establishing safety with protective parts before approaching wounded exiles — this is trauma-informed practice enacted at a structural level.

Symptoms as adaptations. IFS reframes all parts, including those that drive the most problematic symptoms, as adaptive responses to overwhelming experience. This directly mirrors trauma-informed care’s understanding of symptoms as the body and mind’s best attempts to survive.

The body as part. IFS readily integrates with somatic approaches, recognising that parts often manifest in the body — the tight chest of a manager, the hollow ache of an exile, the rush of adrenaline of a firefighter. This aligns with Levine’s Somatic Experiencing and Ogden’s Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, which understand trauma as fundamentally embodied.

Avoiding retraumatisation. The IFS approach of never forcing or bypassing protective systems directly addresses the risk of retraumatisation that is central to trauma-informed care. The system is never pushed faster than it is ready to go.

Van der Kolk has noted in his own work that IFS offers one of the most effective frameworks for trauma therapy available, precisely because it honours the adaptive intelligence of the traumatised system while providing a clear pathway toward healing.


IFS and Strengths-Based Practice: The Innate Wisdom of Parts

Strengths-based approaches in psychology — drawing on positive psychology, solution-focused therapy, and narrative traditions — begin from the premise that clients possess inherent resources, capacities, and competencies that can be identified and amplified in service of wellbeing and change.

IFS is, at its core, profoundly strengths-based. Consider:

  • Every part, no matter how destructive its behaviour appears, is motivated by positive intent. The self-critical manager wants the client to be safe. The dissociating firefighter wants the client to survive. The exile, once unburdened, reveals not just pain but also energy, creativity, vitality, and joy.
  • The Self is understood as inherently healthy, wise, and compassionate — it is never broken, never the problem.
  • The goal of IFS is not to eliminate or control parts but to help them transform — to release their burdens and step into new, more constructive roles. Former managers may become trusted advisors; former firefighters may channel their protective energy more skillfully.

This sits comfortably alongside narrative therapy, which invites clients to identify their own preferred stories, values, and competencies, and to recognise that the problem is never the person — a belief IFS would extend to say that the problem is not even the part, but the burden the part carries.


Parts in the Consulting Room: Clinical Applications

The Inner Critic

One of the most common — and most clinically challenging — experiences clients bring to therapy is the inner critic: the harsh, often relentless internal voice that judges, shames, and attacks. Many therapeutic approaches attempt to challenge, reframe, or quieten this voice.

IFS invites a different approach: curiosity. What is this part trying to do? What is it afraid would happen if it stopped criticising? Almost invariably, the inner critic is a manager whose attacks are preemptive — better for me to shame myself than for others to shame me; better for me to be hard on myself than to become complacent and fail. Underneath the critic, there is almost always an exile who already feels deeply ashamed, and a fear that without constant vigilance, that exile’s shame would engulf everything.

When clients can approach the inner critic with curiosity rather than reactivity or resignation, something remarkable often happens: the critic softens. It is, at last, being seen. Its genuine care — however misguided its methods — is being acknowledged.

Polarised Parts

Clients frequently present with two parts in fierce opposition: the part that wants to leave a relationship and the part that is terrified to; the part that wants to rest and the part that drives relentlessly; the part that rages and the part that pleases. IFS understands these polarisations as a natural consequence of the parts system — each part pushes harder against the other in a bid to be heard, and the client gets caught in the middle, exhausted and immobilised.

The therapeutic work is not to choose a side but to witness and appreciate both parts, understanding what each is protecting and what burden each carries. When both parts feel genuinely heard — often, for the first time — they can begin to negotiate rather than fight, and a new, more integrated path often emerges organically.

Parts in the Body

Working somatically with parts is a natural extension of IFS practice. Clients are often invited to locate a part in the body — Where do you feel that manager? Where is the exile? — and to attend to it with curiosity. This somatic dimension both deepens access to parts and creates a felt, embodied quality to healing that purely cognitive work cannot achieve.

This reflects the insights of Sensorimotor Psychotherapy and somatic trauma work: that the body holds experience, and that healing requires the body’s participation, not just the mind’s.


The Therapist’s Parts: Working from Self

IFS has a distinctive and valuable contribution to make to therapist reflective practice. The model recognises that therapists, too, have parts — parts that may be activated by particular clients, content, or dynamics. A therapist’s rescuer part might want to fix a client’s pain. A manager part might become anxious in the presence of a client’s rage. A part carrying shame might be triggered by a client’s self-loathing.

IFS invites therapists to develop the same kind of Self-to-part relationship within themselves that they facilitate in clients. The goal is to work predominantly from Self — from that grounded, curious, compassionate centre — rather than from reactive parts. This is what makes authentic, attuned presence possible, and it is what clients most fundamentally need.

This resonates with concepts from relational psychoanalysis and interpersonal neurobiology around the therapist’s own embodied presence, attunement, and regulatory capacity as central to therapeutic change.


What the Research Tells Us

IFS has been formally recognised by the US Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) as an evidence-based practice. Emerging research supports its effectiveness across a range of presentations including depression, anxiety, trauma symptoms, relationship distress, and chronic pain. Qualitative research consistently highlights clients’ experience of increased self-compassion, reduced internal conflict, and a greater sense of agency and coherence.

It is worth noting that the mechanisms of change in IFS (i.e., accessing and processing primary emotion, developing self-compassion, resolving internal conflict, processing traumatic memory) align with well-established change processes across multiple modalities. IFS does not work in spite of other evidence-based frameworks; it works, in significant part, because of the same underlying processes.


A Note on Integration

IFS is perhaps best understood not as a standalone modality but as a rich, generative framework that deepens and organises other therapeutic approaches. It sits comfortably alongside Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (whose defusion techniques offer another pathway to working with parts), Schema Therapy (whose modes bear striking resemblance to IFS parts), EMDR (which can be powerfully integrated with IFS for trauma processing), and Compassion Focused Therapy (which shares IFS’s emphasis on developing compassionate self-relationship).

For practitioners working across multiple frameworks, IFS offers what might be called a meta-map — a way of understanding the internal landscape that gives shape and direction to interventions drawn from many sources.


Conclusion: The Courage to Go Inside

Ultimately, IFS therapy is an invitation to curiosity over judgement, to compassion over shame, to relationship over exile. It asks clients to do something both simple and profoundly courageous: to turn toward their own inner world with the same warmth and interest they might offer a dear friend.

The parts of us that cause us the most distress are rarely our enemies. They are, more often, the oldest and most loyal parts of ourselves — still working, long after the need has passed, from strategies learned in more dangerous times. When we can see them clearly, appreciate their efforts, and help them lay down their burdens, what emerges is not fragmentation but wholeness: a richer, more spacious sense of self, capable of greater authenticity, deeper connection, and genuine wellbeing.


This article is intended for professional and educational purposes. If you are interested in exploring IFS-informed therapy for yourself, please speak with a qualified mental health practitioner.

What Alcohol does to the Human BodyWhat Alcohol does to the Human Body

1. Alcohol (ethanol) enters the body through the oral cavity (i.e., the mouth). The inner surface of the oral cavity is mucosal tissue to keep the cavity lubricated and it is capable of absorbing alcohol into the bloodstream. This absorption is considered “insignificant”.

2. Alcohol flows down the oesophagus to the stomach where 10-20% of ethanol will be absorbed into the bloodstream. Alcohol enters the bloodstream via the mucosal tissue of the stomach wall, and travels straight to the liver. Alcohol can take 5-10 minutes to reach the brain because of the ethanol absorbed via the stomach. If you drink alcohol on an empty stomach, the pyloric sphincter [gateway between the stomach and the small intestine] is going to be more open, and the alcohol is going to immediately enter the small intestine after reaching the stomach. If food is also present in the stomach, the sphincter will open and close at a rate that allows food to enter the small intestine gradually, therefore if alcohol is also in the stomach, it will gradually enter the small intestine.

3. Alcohol flows through the pyloric sphincter into the small intestines where most alcohol absorption occurs. Human intestines are attached the to the posterior abdominal wall by a fold of membrane called the mesentery. Alcohol is absorbed into the mesentery via veins and then travels to the liver.

4. One function of the liver is that it detoxifies toxic elements into non-toxic elements before passing it to the heart and then the rest of the body. The liver sustains considerable “abuse” from a variety of toxic elements and chemicals, and therefore it needs to be capable of full regeneration. NOTE: Many diseases and exposures can harm it beyond the point of repair. These include cancer, hepatitis, certain medication overdoses, and fatty liver disease.

In the liver, ethanol is met with an enzyme called alcohol dehydrogenase and converts ethanol into acetaldehyde [ass-eh-tal-de-hide]. This chemical is more toxic than ethanol, so the liver uses another enzyme to convert acetaldehyde into acetate, which is non-toxic to the human body. NOTE: the amount of alcohol consumed + the timeframe it is consumed [and a variety of other factors] will influence the ability of the liver to effectively convert acetaldehyde all the way into acetate. The liver can’t handle the entire workload effectively therefore ethanol (before being metabolised) will go straight from the liver to the bloodstream and make its way directly to the heart.

NOTE: Genetics will play a role! Certain people do not produce the liver enzymes in enough quantity to properly breakdown ethanol.

5. Blood leaves the liver through the hepatic veins. The hepatic veins carry blood to the inferior vena cava—the largest vein in the body—to the right side of the heart. The heart will beat and send the incoming blood to the lungs to oxygenate and expel carbon dioxide as we breath out. This is how ethanol can be on your breath. Inside the lungs, at the very end of the bronchioles, are hollow air sacs called alveoli where there is a gas exchange. Ethanol evaporates through capillaries into the air sacs and exhaled out of the body. Breathalysers can detect the quantity of ethanol in a person’s system based on the quantity of ethanol in our breath.

6. Not all the ethanol will expel from the body via the breath. The rest will flow back to the heart, with newly oxygenated blood, and then get pumped all the way up to the brain and around the body. NOTE: Ethanol is water soluble. It will be distributed to every cell in the body except bone and fatty tissue [some will enter fat cells but not easily]. Ethanol will interact with every other cell i.e., every organ, gland, nerve, muscle etc.

7. Ethanol will affect and compromise protein synthesis inside muscle tissue. Therefore, if you have been training at the gym, running, swimming etc., your muscles will not effectively be able to repair.

8. Once ethanol has reached the brain, it will cross the blood-brain barrier and begin to affect chemical messengers [neurotransmitters] in the grey matter of the brain. It affects serotonin, dopamine, gamma-amino-butyric-acid (aka GABA), glutamate, endorphins etc. The person will experience pleasure, euphoria, lowered inhibitions [related to dopamine], lowered cognitive ability (e.g., decision making/problem solving, emotion regulation) and lowered coordination and reflexes.

The more ethanol ingested, the more dopamine is secreted and communicated between neurons (i.e., nerve cells). One of dopamine’s functions is to make you feel pleasure or ‘rewarded’ for doing things that are good for humans, hence, from an evolutionary perspective, we are likely to do them again to help us thrive in our environment and social world. Dopamine is secreted when we:

  • eat healthy foods (but also recently developed processed foods that are high in sugar and salt)
  • exercise
  • achieve goals
  • be productive (e.g., finish a task like cleaning, cooking, work-related tasks)
  • master new skills (e.g., learning an instrument or a new talent), and
  • have positive and stimulating social interactions

Ethanol influences so much dopamine secretion and communication that the brain becomes unable to make responsible decisions cognitively. The simultaneous experience of euphoria and lowered cognitive ability means we are more likely to be “happy” about making irresponsible decisions.

Increased dopamine is how drinking alcohol “blocks” unpleasant emotions like fear, stress, anxiety, and insecurity. When we don’t feel these unpleasant, yet necessary, emotions we will behave in ways that are dangerous, abnormal, potentially embarrassing, and generally problematic.

Another significant brain region affected by ethanol is the hypothalamus and the pituitary glad [together known as the hypothalamic-pituitary axis]. These structures control the entire hormonal system. The hypothalamus monitors the body, and it will send instructions to the pituitary gland based on information it receives from the hypothalamus. The hypothalamus is aware that ethanol is flooding the brain and it starts adjusting the secretion of hormones via the pituitary gland.

One of the instructions it gives the pituitary gland is to start modulating the adrenal glands to secrete cortisol (i.e., stress hormone) and epinephrine and norepinephrine (i.e., adrenaline).

Now, our cognitive capacity is diminished, inhibitions are lowered, and we will experience a rush of stress hormones and adrenaline coursing through the body. Cortisol and adrenaline will provide a boost of energy. It will increase the heart rate, blood pressure, body sweat, sugar levels in the bloodstream, and enhances the brain’s ability to use glucose. Glucose is a “fuel” source for brain functioning, including the generation of neurotransmitters. Behaviourally, we can see this in children when we say they are “hyperactive” because they’ve ingested too much sugar.

The pituitary gland will also slow the secretion of anti-diuretic hormone (aka. vasopressin). A diuretic is something that makes us urinate. If the anti-diuretic hormone (also called vasopressin) slows down, then we won’t be “holding on” to water as effectively, hence we begin to urinate more. People call this “breaking the seal”.

9. South of the body, blood is pumped into the kidneys via the renal artery which spreads through the renal cortex. The blood is then filtered into urine and expelled from the body. The lowered anti-diuretic hormone will dilate (become wider/bigger or more open) blood vessels in the kidneys which means more blood gets passed through and filtered, but it also means we lose a lot more body water which leads to dehydration. Vasopressin is essential in the control of osmotic balance, blood pressure regulations, and kidney function, therefore, when vasopressin is lowered, we are losing essential water and minerals/electrolytes. Electrolytes are involved in urination because the kidneys need them to make the process of filtering blood more efficient.

The loss of water and electrolytes will contribute to a hangover. Electrolytes play a role in cellular water absorption so if we are losing more water than we are bringing in, and we are losing the electrolytes that support the absorption of water, we become dehydrated very quickly.

10. The Hangover

Symptoms: nausea, fatigue, diarrhoea, vomiting, paranoia, anxiety, anorexia (i.e., loss of appetite), increased thirst, muscle weakness, irritability, sweating, increased blood pressure, and headache.

The exact cause of a “hangover” is not yet known however variables affecting the hangover are:

  • individual differences such as sex, size, body fat, genetics etc
  • lack of sleep
  • general health
  • drinking behaviour e.g., frequency, duration, quantity
  • food intake before and during
  • water intake before and after
  • your body’s ability to metabolise alcohol i.e., excessive amounts of acetaldehyde due to fewer enzymes to metabolise alcohol in the liver before entering the bloodstream
  • general behaviour while drinking e.g., poly-substance use, dancing, sexual activity, risk-taking behaviours etc.

Strategies for Controlled Drinking

  • Setting personal drinking limits and sticking to it
  • Alternating alcoholic drinks with soft drinks i.e., one alcoholic drink then a water, soft drink, or juice
  • Have a meal before drinking
  • Switching to low alcohol drinks
  • Having regular alcohol-free days/weeks/months
  • Identifying high risk situations for heavy drinking and creating a management plan

Engaging in alternative activities to drinking