Relapse Is Not a Failure of Will, But a Fragmentation of Coherence

‍1. The Dopamine Dilemma: Wanting, Withering, and Anhedonia

In Dopamine Nation, Dr. Anna Lembke explains how our brains are wired for balance. Every act of indulgence, whether through substances, social media, or even validation, tilts the brain’s dopamine system. Over time, the receptors downregulate, leading us to feel less joy from the same reward.

This physiological process gives rise to anhedonia, the absence of pleasure. After quitting cannabis for what felt like the fifteenth time, I remember staring at a blooming tree and feeling... nothing. It was not that beauty had disappeared, but that my access to it had diminished.

Relapse, then, is rarely about seeking joy. It is often an attempt to escape the unbearable numbness within. It is a desperate compromise, a choice made not for pleasure, but for relief. The internal monologue often sounds like this: “Without the drug, I feel less alive.” This is not weakness; it is neurochemical imbalance.

2. The Hypertextual Mind: When Thoughts Fragment

Some therapists refer to it as a “hypertextual mind", a pattern of thinking where one idea links to several others before a single one is resolved. In the digital age, this mirrors the browser with endless tabs open, each demanding attention. It is rewarded, even praised, as multitasking. But it is, at its core, fragmented cognition.

Andrew Huberman, a neuroscientist, describes this as a dysregulated attentional loop. The prefrontal cortex, responsible for executive function, loses its prioritisation ability amidst the flood of limbic impulses. The result: constant novelty, seeking, poor continuity, and narrative breakdown.

In this state, recovery feels like building a cathedral only to burn down the scaffolding every few days. The self, as Antonio Damasio argues, is not just a thinker but a storyteller. When the neural glue of coherence dissolves, through addiction, trauma, or emotional collapse, so does the story. What follows is not just relapse. It is fragmentation.

3. Childhood Fantasy and Adult Realism

As a child, I had an imaginary friend named Juno. She was nonjudgemental, safe, and constant. Over time, as is often the case, fantasy gave way to performance. In adulthood, identity became less about authenticity and more about external validation, grades, achievements, and social metrics.

Modern psychology tells us we build identity through social mirrors. But in a world of curated personas and performance based, self-worth, those mirrors often shatter. When selfhood is outsourced to applause, likes, or productivity, any rupture in performance feels like a personal collapse.

Chris Williamson, in The Modern Wisdom Podcast, refers to this state as "disembodied identity", a loss of self to the scroll. Rest begins to feel like failure. Stillness, like self- betrayal. In such moments, it isn’t just the substance that offers relief; it is the doing. The addiction to momentum, effort, and control becomes its own high.

4. Misaligned Essentialism and Behavioural Loops

We are frequently told to find our “why,” our essence, our passion. But what happens when our behaviours contradict our values? Huberman explains that behaviour often overrides belief because habit loops are embedded in the basal ganglia, structures that resist conscious override.

In times of emotional vulnerability, we default not to our intentions, but to our rehearsals. Relapse, in this view, is not a moral failing, but a neurobiological one. We return to old patterns not because we forget our values, but because our behaviours are shaped more reliably by repetition than ideology.

5. The Myth of Output: Redefining Productivity

In early recovery, I continued to produce spreadsheets, campaigns, deadlines. From the outside, I looked productive. Internally, I was deteriorating.

Humanistic psychology, from Maslow to Rogers, speaks of self-actualisation, but in recovery, I came to see how actualisation had become performance. I had to redefine productivity as coherence rather than output. I started small: making my bed while listening to my breath, writing a poem without sharing it. Productivity became a private act of integration, not projection.

6. A Framework for Compassionate Self Accountability

Out of these patterns, I developed a framework, not a cure, but a compass. Compassionate self-accountability is the practice of remaining connected to oneself, even during emotional or cognitive disintegration. It is not indulgent or permissive; it is grounded, rigorous, and loving.

Core practices include:

• Track Without Shame: Record experiences. Reflect on them without drowning in them. Identify patterns of pleasure, pain, and imbalance.

• Re-story the Self: Use narrative, not data. What did the nervous system feel? What did the inner child need? Imagination becomes a tool for integration.

• Build Friction: Introduce resistance into relapse patterns. Hide triggers. Delay gratification. Create space between urge and action.

• Rehearse Coherence: Even five minutes of intentional action helps build neural continuity. Neuroplasticity rewards repetition.

• Restore Dignity: Remind yourself that relapse does not erase resilience. You are still becoming.

7. Losing Without Abandonment

In many ways, recovery has taught me the art of losing without losing myself. The goal is not to avoid fragmentation, but to remain whole within it. In Buddhist philosophy, the self is a river. We change. But amidst that change, we can remain consistent.

Today, I relapse less. More importantly, I abandon myself less. When cravings arise or sadness returns, I meet them not with punishment, but with presence. I hold myself with the attentiveness of a parent, the curiosity of a scientist, and the grace of a poet.

“To fall is not to fail. To fragment is not to vanish. The art of losing is the art of staying.”

Coherence is not a constant state. It is a repeated act of courage.
Breathe. Begin. Again.

This blog has been written by a Recovering Individual at Cadabam’s Amitha - Psychosocial Rehabilitation Center in Bangalore.

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