A few quick stats

• Over 400 million people worldwide suffer from alcohol use disorder.
• Only about 1 in 3 people who struggle with alcohol ever seek treatment.
• Relapse rates for alcoholism sit between 40–60%, comparable to other chronic diseases like diabetes.
• The average alcoholic will attempt to quit 4–5 times before achieving lasting sobriety.

Growing Up Around Alcohol 

I remember the first time I ever had a drink. I was fourteen years old, sitting in my Uncle Ronnie's garage in rural Ohio, and he handed me a cold can of beer like it was a rite of passage. He laughed when I winced at the taste. "You'll get used to it," he said. He was right. I got used to it faster than either of us probably expected.

Growing up, alcohol was just part of the furniture in our house. My dad wasn't a violent drunk or anything dramatic like that. He was a quiet one. A man who came home from the factory, sat in his recliner, and worked his way through a six-pack every single night without fail. Nobody called it a problem. We called it unwinding. We called it what grown men did after a hard day. So I grew up understanding alcohol not as a danger, but as a reward. A release valve. Something you earned.

Through high school I drank at parties like everyone else did. Nothing that raised flags. Through college, same story — maybe a little more, maybe a little louder, but I was young and it all seemed to fit the version of life I was supposed to be living. I was social, I was funny with a few drinks in me, and I genuinely believed that alcohol made me a better version of myself. More relaxed. More confident. More fun. That belief would follow me for a long time, and it would cost me everything before I understood how wrong it was.

When Social Drinking Quietly Became Alcoholism

I got married at twenty-seven to a woman named Karen, who is — and I don't say this lightly — the reason I'm still alive today. We had our son, Daniel, at twenty-nine, and our daughter, Mia, two years after that. On paper, my life looked like the American dream. Good job in logistics management, nice house in the suburbs, a wife who loved me, two beautiful kids. But somewhere in the middle of building all of that, the drinking quietly changed shape.

It stopped being something I did on weekends. It became something I did every night. Then it became something I needed before I could sleep. Then it became something I thought about at work by three in the afternoon. I didn't notice the transition because it happened the way a slow leak destroys a foundation — invisible, gradual, and catastrophic by the time you see it.

By the time I was thirty-four, I was hiding bottles in the garage. Not from Karen exactly — she knew I drank. But from the version of her that I knew would look at me differently if she saw how much. I was functional, which is the most dangerous kind of alcoholic to be, because "functional" lets you lie to yourself for years. I was still getting to work. Still coaching Daniel's little league games, at least most of them. Still showing up. But I was showing up hollowed out, already counting down to the next drink, already managing my intake just enough to keep the shakes from starting.

Hitting Rock Bottom: When My Marriage Almost Ended

The marriage nearly ended at thirty-six. Karen sat across from me at the kitchen table after the kids were in bed and told me that she had been watching me disappear for two years and she couldn't keep pretending she didn't see it. I'll never forget that conversation because she wasn't angry. She was exhausted. There's something about seeing exhaustion on the face of someone who loves you that hits harder than any argument. I checked into a thirty-day inpatient program two weeks later.

That first stretch of sobriety was remarkable. I felt things I had numbed for years. I cried at a commercial once and then sat there stunned, realizing I hadn't cried at anything in almost a decade. I went to meetings. I got a sponsor named Gerald, a retired electrician in his sixties who had twenty-two years sober and didn't sugarcoat a single thing. I came home to a wife who was cautiously hopeful and kids who just seemed glad I was more present. I had fourteen months clean. Fourteen months.

The Dangerous Lie of "Just One Drink"

And then I had one beer at a colleague's retirement party.

That's the part people who've never dealt with addiction don't fully understand. It wasn't a moment of weakness exactly. It was a moment of logic — or what felt like logic at the time. I had done the work. I was stable. I was different now. Surely one beer at a party, surrounded by people, in a controlled environment, wasn't the same as what I used to do alone in a garage at midnight. Surely I had reset somehow. Surely the rules that applied to the man I used to be didn't apply anymore.

I was back to daily drinking within three weeks.

Relapsing Again: The Hardest Part of Alcohol Recovery

The second collapse was worse than the first because I had shown Karen and the kids a version of me that was better, and then I took it away again. Daniel was eleven by then. Old enough to understand what was happening. Old enough to be angry about it in a way that a younger child can't articulate. There were nights I'd catch him watching me with this look on his face — not hate, which would have been easier — but something closer to grief. Like he was already mourning something.

I went back to treatment at thirty-nine. Different program this time, longer, with a harder focus on the underlying architecture of why I drank. Trauma from my childhood that I had never named. Anxiety that alcohol had been medicating for twenty years. A fundamental belief that I was not enough without something to take the edge off. That second time in treatment broke me open in a different way. Not the relief of the first time, but something harder and more necessary.

So, Can an Alcoholic Ever Drink Again? Here's My Honest Answer

That was four years ago. I am forty-three now. I have four years sober, and I want to answer the question in the title of this piece as plainly as I know how.

No. I cannot ever drink again.

Not one drink. Not a beer at a retirement party. Not a glass of champagne at my daughter's eventual wedding. Not a sip to be polite. Not ever. And I say that not with bitterness, but with the clarity of someone who tested the theory and paid the price. The question "can an alcoholic ever drink again" is one that most of us in recovery have asked ourselves at some point, usually because we desperately want the answer to be yes. We want to believe that sobriety is a finish line, that once you cross it you get some of your old freedoms back in a safer form. But for most of us, that's not how it works.

The disease doesn't go into remission the way some illnesses do. It waits. My sponsor Gerald used to say that while he was sober, his alcoholism was outside doing push-ups. I laughed the first time he said it. I don't laugh anymore. I know exactly what he meant. One drink doesn't return me to the man I was at the retirement party. It returns me to the man in the garage at midnight. Every single time.

What Long-Term Sobriety Actually Looks Like

What I have now is not a lesser life because I don't drink. I want to be honest about that too, because early in sobriety I genuinely feared that a life without alcohol would be flat. Manageable but colorless. It isn't. Karen and I are better than we have been at any point in our marriage. Mia tells me things, the way daughters tell their dads things when they trust them. Daniel, my angry, grieving eleven-year-old, is now fifteen and plays guitar badly and loudly and I sit through every painful practice because I am there for it. I am present for all of it now. Not performing presence — actually present.

That is what was on the other side of the question. Not a return to drinking on my own terms. Not moderation or management or any of the bargaining I tried. Just this. A Tuesday evening helping Mia with her homework. A Saturday morning making terrible pancakes while Karen drinks her coffee and tells me I always use too much butter. A life that is fully, undeniably mine.

I wouldn't trade one drink in the world for it.

Bipolar Disorder and Relationships By the Numbers

• Studies show that up to 60% of people with bipolar disorder experience relationship conflicts during manic episodes.
• Research indicates that emotional withdrawal from a partner can trigger depressive spirals in bipolar individuals within 48-72 hours.
• Nearly 90% of people with untreated bipolar disorder report feeling abandoned when loved ones disengage during episodes.
• Couples where one partner has bipolar disorder face divorce rates nearly three times higher than the general population.

The Kitchen Floor Incident

I still remember the first session after Tom tried ignoring Sarah during one of her episodes. They'd been married for three years when they came to see me, and Tom thought he had developed a strategy for managing the chaos. He was about to learn otherwise.
He described how it started on a Tuesday morning—Sarah had been up since 3 AM reorganizing their entire kitchen, talking rapidly about starting five different business ventures, her eyes bright with that manic energy Tom had come to recognize. By noon, she was angry at him for not sharing her enthusiasm about converting their garage into a pottery studio, despite neither of them knowing anything about pottery.
"You never support me!" she'd shouted, and Tom felt that familiar exhaustion settle into his bones. He'd read online that you can't reason with mania, that sometimes the best thing is to not engage. So he didn't. He walked away, went to his office, closed the door, and put on his headphones.
That was his first mistake.
An hour later, he heard crashing sounds from the kitchen. Sarah had thrown every dish from the newly organized cabinets onto the floor. She was sitting in the middle of the broken ceramic, sobbing uncontrollably. The mania had flipped to despair in the span of sixty minutes, and Tom's silence had been gasoline on that fire.
"You don't care if I exist," she'd whispered when he rushed in. "You just walked away like I'm nothing."
As Tom recounted this to me, I could see the guilt written across his face. He'd realized that ignoring Sarah hadn't been the neutral act he thought it was. To Sarah, in that vulnerable, dysregulated state, his silence was abandonment. It was confirmation of every fear the bipolar disorder whispered to her during her darkest moments.

Learning the Difference Between Disengaging and Disappearing

Over the next several months of therapy, Tom and Sarah began to understand the complicated truth: sometimes a modified version of "ignoring" was exactly what Sarah needed, and sometimes it absolutely wasn't. The difference was in the details.
Tom described an incident about six months into our work together, during a hypomanic episode where Sarah decided at 10 PM that they needed to drive three hours to the beach immediately. When Tom said no, she became belligerent, accusing him of being controlling, boring, suffocating her spirit. This time, instead of walking away silently, Tom said, "I love you, but I'm not going to the beach tonight. I'm going to be in the living room if you need me." Then he left the room.
The key difference? He'd communicated clearly before disengaging. He'd set a boundary without disappearing.
Sarah raged for another twenty minutes. Tom could hear her on the phone trying to find friends to go with her, ranting about how terrible he was. Every instinct told him to march back in there and defend himself, but we'd been working on understanding that was futile. So he sat on the couch, fighting the urge to engage, and waited.
Eventually, Sarah came out, deflated, and curled up next to him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I don't know why I get like this." In that moment, Tom's earlier "ignoring" had actually worked—but only because he'd first acknowledged her and set a clear boundary rather than simply vanishing.

The Crisis That Changed Everything

The worst experience with the silent treatment happened during a depressive episode, and it brought them both back to my office in crisis. Sarah had been in bed for four days, barely eating, not showering. Tom was frustrated and scared. He'd tried everything—gentle encouragement, offering to do things together, bringing her favorite foods. Nothing worked. So, in his exhaustion, he just stopped trying. He stopped checking on her every few hours. He stopped bringing meals. He thought maybe if he gave her space, she'd snap out of it.
Instead, Sarah attempted suicide.
Tom found her in time, thank God, but as we processed this trauma in our sessions, he understood with brutal clarity that ignoring someone in a depressive episode isn't giving them space—it's confirming their belief that they're a burden, that they're unlovable, that the world would be better off without them.
I shared with them both something I tell many of my clients: "Bipolar disorder is the brain lying to someone about reality. When you go silent, you're not disproving those lies—you're letting them become the only voice your partner hears."
This was our turning point in therapy.

Building Supportive Boundaries

After that crisis, Tom and Sarah learned the critical distinction between disengaging and abandoning. Disengaging from an unproductive argument or refusing to participate in manic schemes isn't the same as ignoring the person. It's about setting boundaries while maintaining connection.
During Sarah's next manic episode, when she wanted to drain their savings to invest in cryptocurrency at 2 AM, Tom didn't just walk away. He said, "I can see you're really excited about this, and we can talk about investment strategies when we're both rested, but I'm not making any financial decisions tonight. I'm here if you want to watch TV together, but I'm done discussing money for now." He stayed present but firm.
Sarah was angry, but she knew Tom hadn't left her. He'd just left the argument.
The approach that worked best evolved into what I call "supportive boundaries." During hypomanic episodes, Tom would acknowledge Sarah's feelings and ideas without agreeing to participate in harmful behaviors. "I hear that you want to start a business. Let's write down all your ideas, and we can review them with your doctor next week." This validated her without enabling the mania.
During depressive episodes, Tom learned never to go silent, but also not to push too hard. He'd stick his head in the bedroom every couple of hours. "I made soup. It's here if you want it." "I'm doing laundry. Want me to change your sheets?" Small touches that said, "I'm here, you matter, you're not alone," without demanding she perform happiness for him.

The Middle Path Forward

What Tom wishes he'd known from the beginning is that ignoring someone with bipolar disorder—truly going silent and withdrawing—almost never helps. But that doesn't mean you have to engage with every irrational thought or dangerous impulse. The middle path is acknowledging the person while declining to participate in the disorder's demands.
Tom also learned to ignore certain things strategically. When Sarah was stable and made a comment about something she'd done during an episode, he didn't relitigate it. When she was slightly irritable but functional, he didn't treat every mood fluctuation like an incoming episode. There's a difference between helpful vigilance and exhausting hypervigilance.
The other crucial element we worked on was ensuring Sarah never faced episodes alone, but also not making Tom her only support. We built a team: her psychiatrist, her individual therapist, a few trusted friends who understood her condition, a crisis hotline number, and eventually a support group for people with bipolar disorder. When Tom needed to disengage from a difficult moment, Sarah had other people to reach out to. His stepping back didn't mean she was abandoned.

Lessons from the Therapy Room

Looking back over three years of working with Tom and Sarah now, I can say that the sessions following times when Tom "ignored" Sarah in the traditional sense—went silent, withdrew emotionally, stopped engaging entirely—those were our most difficult. The sessions following times when he set boundaries while staying present, those were when we all saw the most growth.
If you're loving someone with bipolar disorder and wondering whether ignoring them will help, my professional answer is this: ignore the disorder's demands, but never ignore the person. Ignore the 3 AM business plans, but not the person who needs to know you're still there. Ignore the irrational accusations, but not the underlying fear of abandonment. Ignore the impulse to fight about delusions, but not the human being who needs your steady presence.
The paradox is that sometimes the most loving thing you can do is walk away from an argument, but you have to walk toward something else—your own self-care, a calm space to regroup—not away from the relationship itself. And you have to make that distinction crystal clear to your partner.
Sarah's bipolar disorder is part of their marriage, but it's not their whole marriage. Tom and Sarah have learned to dance around it together rather than let it choreograph everything. And the most important step in that dance isn't ignoring each other—it's staying in rhythm even when the music gets chaotic.
As their therapist, I've watched them transform from a couple on the brink of divorce to partners who understand that love doesn't mean fixing everything—it means showing up, setting healthy boundaries, and never confusing silence with space. That's the lesson I hope every couple dealing with bipolar disorder can learn before the crisis hits.

OCD Flare-ups By The Numbers

67% - Percentage of people with OCD who report experiencing at least one major flare-up per year, often triggered by stress or life changes.

2-12 weeks - Average duration of an OCD flare-up when treated with evidence-based therapy like ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention).

40% - Increase in compulsion frequency during a typical flare-up compared to baseline symptoms.

3-6 months - How long untreated flare-ups can persist without professional intervention or proper coping strategies.

What Actually Happens During a Flare-up? 

I'll never forget the morning Davonte showed up to my office wearing the same shirt he'd worn to our previous three sessions. Not because he was particularly attached to it, but because he'd been trapped in a checking ritual for forty-seven minutes that morning and grabbed the first thing he could find just to make it out the door. He collapsed into the chair across from me, exhausted before his day had even begun, and asked the question I've heard countless times over my fifteen years as an OCD specialist: "How long is this going to last?"

If only I could give everyone a simple answer—a neat timeline with a beginning, middle, and end. But OCD flare-ups are about as predictable as my Aunt Rosa's stories at Thanksgiving dinner: you know they're going somewhere, you're just not sure when they'll get there or how many tangents they'll take along the way.

The truth is, OCD flare-ups can last anywhere from a few days to several months, and understanding why requires us to look at what's actually happening during these intensification periods.

Think of OCD as that one smoke alarm in your house that goes off every time you make toast. It's doing its job—alerting you to potential danger—but it's wildly miscalibrated. During a flare-up, that alarm doesn't just get louder; it starts going off when you think about making toast, when you walk past the toaster, when you see bread.

I remember Xiomara, a brilliant 28-year-old software engineer who came to see me during what she called her "hand-washing apocalypse." Her contamination fears had been manageable for years—present, but not debilitating. Then her roommate got the flu, and suddenly Xiomara was washing her hands sixty to eighty times a day. Her knuckles were cracked and bleeding. She'd started wearing gloves inside her own apartment.

"It's like my brain is screaming at me that everything is contaminated," she told me, tears streaming down her face. "And I know—I know—it's irrational, but the fear feels so real."

What could have helped Xiomara de-escalate earlier? Recognition and immediate intervention. The moment she noticed herself adding extra hand-washing sessions, that was the time to double down on her exposure exercises rather than accommodate the anxiety. We worked on having her intentionally touch "contaminated" surfaces and delay washing—starting with just thirty seconds and gradually building up. Her flare-up, which had already been going strong for six weeks when she came to see me, began to subside within two weeks of consistent exposure work.

The Variable Timeline: Why So Much Uncertainty? 

During my internship, my supervisor told me that asking "how long will this last?" is like asking "how long is a piece of string?" It annoyed me then—I wanted concrete answers to give my clients—but now I understand the wisdom in it.

Flare-ups vary wildly because they're influenced by a perfect storm of factors: stress levels, life transitions, how quickly someone seeks help, what treatment approaches they're using, and sometimes just the chaotic randomness of brain chemistry deciding to throw a party nobody wanted to attend.

Take Remy, a 45-year-old accountant and father of two, who experienced what he described as "the worst four months of my life" when his company announced layoffs. His checking compulsions, which had been relatively mild, exploded. He'd check the locks on his car seventeen times before leaving the parking lot. He'd return home three times during his morning commute to verify he'd turned off the stove—even on mornings when he hadn't cooked breakfast.

"I was spending an extra two hours a day just... checking things," Remy said, shaking his head. "I knew my house wasn't going to burn down. I knew my car was locked. But I couldn't stop."

What could have helped Remy? Stress management and maintaining his ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention) practice. When life gets stressful, that's actually when we need our OCD management tools most, but it's also when we're most likely to abandon them. If Remy had recognized the connection between his work stress and his OCD escalation, and immediately sought support or returned to his coping strategies, his four-month flare-up might have been four weeks instead.

The Sneaky Truth About Accommodation 

Here's something that might surprise you: one of the biggest predictors of how long a flare-up lasts isn't the severity of the obsessions—it's how much we accommodate them.

Priya, a 19-year-old college student, came to see me in the middle of her sophomore year. She'd developed an intense fear that she might accidentally say something offensive and not realize it. She started recording all her conversations on her phone, then spending hours each evening reviewing them, checking for any potential slips.

"My roommate thinks I'm studying when I'm wearing headphones," she told me with a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm actually listening to myself order a coffee from this morning, making sure I didn't accidentally say something racist to the barista."

Her flare-up had been building for three months and showed no signs of stopping. Why? Because every time she reviewed a recording, she was telling her brain that the threat was real and needed to be checked. She was, inadvertently, throwing gasoline on the fire.

The intervention that helped Priya? Deleting the recordings without listening to them and sitting with the uncertainty of not knowing. It was brutal at first—her anxiety spiked significantly. But within three weeks of stopping the accommodation, her obsessive thoughts began to lose their grip. Within two months, the flare-up had resolved almost entirely.

When Flare-ups Become the New Normal

Sometimes I see people who don't even realize they're in a flare-up anymore because it's lasted so long it's become their baseline. That's what happened with Jamal, a 52-year-old high school teacher who'd been experiencing intrusive violent thoughts for over a year.

"I thought this was just... who I am now," he told me during our first session. He'd stopped watching the news, stopped attending his son's basketball games (too many people, too many opportunities for something terrible to happen), stopped living any semblance of the life he'd had before.

The hardest part of my job is telling someone like Jamal that they've been suffering unnecessarily for months—that with proper treatment, things could have improved much sooner. But the beautiful part? Showing them that even after a year-long flare-up, recovery is still absolutely possible.

With Jamal, we started slowly—exposure therapy combined with ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) techniques. We worked on him accepting the presence of the thoughts without judging them or himself. Within three months, he was back at basketball games. Within six months, he was coaching a summer debate program.

So, What's the Actual Answer?  

If you're in the middle of a flare-up right now, reading this and desperately wanting me to just give you a number, here's what I can tell you: most flare-ups, when properly addressed with evidence-based treatment, begin to improve within two to six weeks and can resolve within two to three months.

But—and this is crucial—untreated flare-ups can last significantly longer. I've seen them persist for six months, a year, or even longer when people wait to seek help or when they cope by accommodating their compulsions.

The good news? You have more control over the duration than you might think. Seeking help early, maintaining your ERP practices (especially when you don't feel like it), managing stress, and resisting the urge to accommodate your OCD can all significantly shorten a flare-up's lifespan.

Think of it like a fire: a small flame is much easier to extinguish than a raging inferno. The moment you notice your OCD starting to ramp up—that's your moment to act, not to wait and see if it gets better on its own.

Every person I've mentioned in this article got through their flare-up. Davonte eventually made it out the door in under ten minutes most mornings. Xiomara's hands healed. Remy stopped driving home to check the stove. Priya deleted her recording app. Jamal went back to living his life.

And if you're struggling right now, you can get through this too. The flare-up won't last forever—even though it absolutely feels like it will—and there are proven ways to help it end sooner rather than later. Sometimes you just need someone in your corner who understands that your brain's smoke alarm is broken, and who can help you learn to make toast anyway.

We're excited to announce that Mely Sio, a dedicated Registered Provisional Psychologist and Canadian Certified Counsellor based in Calgary, Alberta, is proudly sponsoring Therapist Point's latest contest giveaway. This partnership reflects a shared commitment to making mental health support more accessible and breaking down barriers that prevent people from seeking the help they deserve.

About the Contest

Therapist Point is hosting a free giveaway contest with a $200 prize, running until March 15, 2026. Entering is simple—all participants need to do is provide their name, email, and location through the contest form on the Therapist Point website. No purchase is necessary, making this opportunity truly accessible to everyone who could benefit from mental health support.

The winner will have the chance to share their mental health journey through a brief, anonymous audio recording lasting approximately 10-15 minutes. While the winner's name will remain confidential, their city and state, along with the mental health provider they've worked with, will be shared to inspire others facing similar challenges. This initiative aims to reduce stigma, normalize conversations about mental health, and show that seeking therapy is a courageous step toward healing and growth.

Meet Mely Sio: A Compassionate Guide on Your Mental Health Journey

Mely Sio brings warmth, expertise, and genuine compassion to her counselling practice in Calgary. As a Registered Provisional Psychologist, Canadian Certified Counsellor, and Psychotherapist, Mely holds a Master's degree in Counselling Psychology (MACP) and is currently pursuing her Doctor of Psychology (PsyD). With four years of dedicated experience, she has established herself as a trusted mental health professional who truly understands the complexities of human emotions and relationships.

What sets Mely apart is her collaborative and gently goal-focused approach. She works with individuals, couples, and families navigating relationship challenges, emotional stress, and life transitions. Whether clients feel overwhelmed, disconnected, or stuck, Mely provides a safe, non-judgmental space where they can explore what's happening beneath the surface, strengthen communication skills, and better understand patterns affecting their relationships and overall well-being.

Comprehensive Services for Diverse Needs

At Msio Counselling, Mely offers a wide range of therapeutic services tailored to meet the unique needs of each client. Her areas of expertise include anxiety, depression, ADHD, relationship issues, parenting challenges, grief, stress management, OCD, and support for women's issues. She also specializes in working with children, adolescents, teens, adults, and elders, making her practice truly inclusive across all life stages.

Mely utilizes evidence-based therapeutic approaches, including Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), Compassion Focused Therapy, Humanistic Therapy, Art Therapy, and Strength-Based interventions. This diverse toolkit allows her to customize treatment plans that resonate with each client's unique circumstances and preferences.

Accessible Counselling Options

Understanding that accessibility is crucial for effective mental health care, Mely offers both in-person sessions at her Calgary office and online counselling throughout Alberta and across Canada. This flexibility ensures that geographical barriers don't prevent anyone from receiving the support they need. Sessions are competitively priced at $150 for individual, couples, and group therapy, and Mely offers a free initial phone consultation to help potential clients determine if her services are the right fit.

Making an Impact Together

By sponsoring this contest, Mely Sio demonstrates her commitment to community mental health awareness and her belief that everyone deserves access to quality therapeutic support. Her partnership with Therapist Point amplifies the message that seeking help is not a sign of weakness but an act of courage and self-care.

Whether you're struggling with relationship dynamics, navigating life transitions, or simply seeking tools to improve your emotional well-being, Mely Sio and Msio Counselling offer the expertise, compassion, and support you need to move forward feeling more grounded, confident, and connected in your life and relationships.

Enter the contest today at therapistpoint.com/contest and take a step toward prioritizing your mental health journey.

Do you know someone who just can’t admit they’re wrong? Someone who refuses to take responsibility for errors, no matter the size? If you’re like me, you have at least one of these folks in your life. Maybe it is a friend, co-worker, or relative who seems incapable of uttering the words "I made a mistake." They may even double-down on an error and pick the most trivial, petty point to climb and die on. These personalities rarely pick their battles; when it comes to being right, they’ll argue about everything.

Of course, people who think they always right are sometimes wrong, like anyone else. It’s their relentless need to be seen as right that causes problems. Stubbornness is human nature, but the condition we’re talking about is more extreme than usual. When a person’s need to be right becomes part of their self-concept, trouble follows.

It's not just about facts, either. A person who believes they’re always right also views their actions as constantly correct.

Understanding what drives this behavior, how to navigate relationships with these individuals can be a big help for your mental health.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) 

I’m Right Because I’m Me and You’re Not

Not all people who have the need to be always 100 percent correct are diagnosable as having Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). NPD is a formally recognized condition with several aspects. Needing to be right all the time, every time, is one of the most prominent and distressing parts of NPD. It’s fair to say that every person with NPD I saw as a counselor believed they were always right, about facts, their actions, their beliefs, and was unable to admit to being wrong. 

It’s also accurate that most people who were incapable of admitting to error were not diagnosed with NPD. 
People with NPD construct an identity around superiority and infallibility. Admitting error threatens the flawless self-image they've carefully made up. If forced to admit error, they experience "narcissistic injury."

For someone with NPD, being wrong doesn't just mean making a mistake; it means confronting the possibility that they're not the special, superior person they believe themselves to be. 
This creates a mental crisis that their defense mechanisms won't allow. Instead, they'll engage in elaborate mental gymnastics: rewriting history, blaming others, moving goalposts, or outright denying reality.

The typical signs of

Inability to apologize genuinely

Lack of personal accountability

Turning their failures into someone else's fault

Becoming hostile or vengeful if contradicted

Gaslighting others who remember events differently

Requiring constant admiration

Requiring constant or near constant validation, compliments, praise

Viewing disagreement as personal attack

What makes NPD particularly difficult is that the person often lacks insight into their behavior. Their certainty feels justified to them because their entire mindset and self-concept depend on maintaining it.

The Difference Between Confidence and Pathological Certainty 

It's essential to distinguish between healthy confidence and pathological need for correctness. Confident people believe in their abilities and judgment, but they remain open to evidence, feedback, and new facts.

They can say "I was wrong about that" without their sense of self being affected at all. 
Pathological certainty, by contrast, is rigid and defensive. It's not born from genuine self-assurance but from deep insecurity that can't tolerate being exposed. Where confidence says "I believe I'm right, but I'm willing to listen," pathological certainty says, "I'm right, and any suggestion otherwise is an attack I must defeat."
Confident individuals welcome challenging conversations because they're secure enough to risk being wrong. They see mistakes as learning opportunities. Those with pathological certainty avoid genuine dialogue, preferring monologues where they can control the narrative. They see mistakes as existential threats.

The difference often becomes apparent in how people handle being proven wrong. Confident people may feel momentarily embarrassed but recover quickly, integrating new information. Those with pathological certainty escalate: they become angry, blame others, claim they were misunderstood, or insist the new evidence is flawed. The emotional reaction is out of proportion because what's at stake isn't just being right. For people who have to always be right, that ‘correctness’ is their whole identify.

The Psychological Roots of Needing to Be Right 

Understanding why some people develop this pattern requires looking at developmental psychology and early attachment experiences. The pathological need to be right typically emerges from childhood environments where:

Conditional love and approval were tied to performance and perfection. Children who learned that mistakes meant withdrawal of parental affection often develop adult personalities that can't tolerate being wrong.

Shame-based parenting taught that errors reflected fundamental personal deficiency rather than normal learning experiences. Being wrong became associated with being worthless.

Traumatic experiences of humiliation or powerlessness created adult compensatory mechanisms. Being infallibly right becomes a way to ensure they're never vulnerable or humiliated again.

Role modeling from parents who never admitted mistakes taught that admitting error is weakness rather than integrity.

Is It Always Narcissism? Other Personality Types That Struggle With Being Wrong

While NPD is the most recognized personality pattern associated with needing to be right, several other personality types display similar behaviors, often for different underlying reasons.

• Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD) Unlike NPD's grandiosity, OCPD-driven certainty stems from anxiety about disorder and incorrectness. These folks believe there's one right way to do things. Failing to do something the ‘right’ way feels deeply wrong and dangerous to them.
• Authoritarian personalities need to be right because they structure their world around hierarchies and clear rules. Admitting error feels like destabilizing the social order they depend on for psychological security. They often appeal to authority, tradition, or "how things have always been done" to avoid acknowledging mistakes.
• High-conflict personalities, a broader category that overlaps with but isn't limited to personality disorders, are characterized by persistent patterns of blame, all-or-nothing thinking, unmanaged emotions, and extreme behaviors. For these people, being wrong gets tangled up with their tendency to see situations in black and white and their difficulty managing their emotional responses to perceived criticism.
• Paranoid traits can also spawn certainty. People with significant paranoid tendencies may resist admitting error because they fear it will be exploited as weakness or because they genuinely believe others are trying to deceive or manipulate them.

Strategies for Dealing with People Who Always Need to Be Right 

Whether it's a boss, coworker, family member, or romantic partner, dealing with someone who can never be wrong requires specific strategies to protect your wellbeing while maintaining necessary relationships.

The Gray Rock Method is really effective with narcissistic people, whether they have full-blown NPD or not. This technique involves making yourself as boring and unreactive as possible, like a gray rock in a field. You provide no emotional engagement, keep responses brief and factual, and avoid sharing any personal information that could be used against you. 

The goal is to become so uninteresting that the person loses interest in you.

Choose your battles. Not every incorrect statement requires correction. Ask yourself: Does this actually matter? Will correcting this improve anything or just trigger conflict? Sometimes letting someone "win" an inconsequential point preserves your energy for issues that truly matter.

Use the "agree and redirect" technique. Instead of direct contradiction, acknowledge their perspective and gently introduce alternatives: "I can see why you'd think that. Another angle might be..." This reduces defensiveness while still offering different viewpoints.

Don't JADE (Justify, Argue, Defend, Explain). People who need to be right will use your explanations as ammunition. State your position or boundary once clearly, then stop engaging with challenges. "I've made my decision" or "That doesn't work for me" without elaboration.

After twenty-three years as an addiction counselor, I've sat across from hundreds of individuals whose lives have been dismantled by gambling. The chairs in my office have held successful businesspeople, college students, retirees, and single parents—all united by the devastating grip of an addiction that society often minimizes. Unlike substance abuse, gambling addiction leaves no physical scars until the damage runs deep. I've watched marriages dissolve, careers crumble, and futures evaporate. What haunts me most is the profound shame and isolation my patients carry, often hiding their addiction for years, believing they could win it all back with just one more bet. These are their stories, shared with permission, in hopes that someone reading might recognize themselves or a loved one and seek help before it's too late.

The Hidden Epidemic: Understanding the Scope

The statistics surrounding gambling addiction reveal how widespread this problem has become:

* Approximately 2 million adults in the United States meet criteria for severe gambling disorder annually, with another 4 to 6 million experiencing mild or moderate problems.

* Problem gamblers face suicide rates up to fifteen times higher than the general population.

* Average gambling debt ranges from $55,000 to $90,000 for men and around $15,000 for women.

* Only about 10 percent of people with gambling disorders ever seek treatment, leaving the vast majority suffering in silence.

Luther: The Trusted Comptroller Who Lost Everything

Luther came to me at fifty-four, referred by his attorney after embezzling $340,000 from the construction company where he'd worked as a comptroller for eighteen years. He'd been the trusted right hand of the owner, a childhood friend who'd given him the job when Luther's previous employer downsized. What started as occasional weekend trips to the casino became nightly online poker sessions, then sports betting throughout every game, every season, every league he could find. Luther described the progression with chilling precision: first he borrowed from his 401k, then maxed out credit cards, then took a second mortgage without telling his wife. When those dried up, he started "borrowing" from company accounts, always planning to replace it before anyone noticed. He'd win sometimes—once even $40,000 in a single night—but it all went back into betting, chasing the high of that win. By the time I met Luther, he'd lost everything: his job, his marriage, his relationship with his adult children who couldn't comprehend how their reliable dad had become a felon. He faced prison time, but what destroyed him more was his fifteen-year-old grandson's question at their last family gathering: "Grandpa, why did you steal?" Luther sat in my office, this gray-haired man in a suit that no longer fit his stress-thinned frame, and wept like I've rarely seen anyone weep.

Maria: From Caregiver to Casino Captive

Maria's story began differently but ended in similar ruin. At thirty-two, she was a ICU nurse, the person her family called when they needed help, the aunt who remembered every birthday, the daughter who visited her aging parents twice weekly. Bingo nights at the local church seemed harmless enough—social, fun, supporting a good cause. But when a friend introduced her to the slot machines at a nearby casino, something clicked in Maria's brain. The lights, the sounds, the near-misses that felt like almosts—she couldn't stop thinking about them during shifts at the hospital. Within months, she was calling in sick to spend entire days at the casino. She'd arrive when they opened and leave only when her money ran out, sometimes eighteen hours later, barely remembering to eat. Maria lost her nursing license after showing up to work sleep-deprived and making a medication error that, thankfully, didn't harm the patient. Her parents discovered she'd drained their savings account—they'd given her access to help them pay bills online. The worst part, she told me, was that even after losing her career and betraying her parents' trust, she still dreamed about the slots. The shame of stealing from her elderly parents, who'd immigrated and worked minimum wage jobs their whole lives to give her opportunities, was suffocating her.

James: When a Windfall Becomes a Curse

Then there was James, twenty-seven, who'd received a $200,000 settlement after a car accident left him with chronic pain. Fresh out of college with loans to pay and no clear career direction, he saw the settlement as breathing room. A roommate took him to a casino to celebrate, and James discovered he loved blackjack. He learned strategies, read books, convinced himself he had a system. For a while, he won consistently—enough to believe he could make this his income. He rented a luxury apartment, bought a sports car, picked up tabs for friends at expensive restaurants. When the losses started mounting, he increased his bets to recover faster. The $200,000 disappeared in fourteen months. James borrowed from everyone who'd lend to him, always promising it was temporary, that he had a sure thing coming. He stopped answering calls, avoided places he might run into friends he owed. By the time his parents insisted he get help, James was sleeping in his car, the luxury apartment and sports car long repossessed, and he'd attempted suicide twice. The pain from his accident remained, but now he carried additional weight: the knowledge that he'd squandered what could have been a fresh start.

Rebecca: Gambling Away Grief and Loneliness

Rebecca was sixty-eight when her husband of forty-two years died suddenly. They'd been comfortable—not wealthy, but secure. Retirement accounts, the house paid off, modest pensions. Without children, Rebecca found herself adrift in grief and loneliness. A seniors' bus trip to a casino seemed like innocent entertainment, a chance to be around people. The video poker machines became her companion, a place where she didn't have to think about going home to an empty house. Rebecca established a routine: arriving at the casino at ten a.m., playing until evening, eating the complimentary buffet, accepting the free drinks. The casino staff knew her name, treated her like family. It felt good to be somewhere she belonged. Over three years, she systematically gambled away her savings, her husband's life insurance, eventually putting a lien on the house. She'd wake up determined not to go, but by mid-morning, the isolation became unbearable and she'd find herself in the car, driving the familiar route. When the bank finally moved to foreclose, Rebecca's nephew intervened and brought her to treatment. She described gambling not as chasing money but as numbing unbearable loneliness—the machine's lights and sounds filling the void her husband left.

David: The Professor Who Didn't Think It Was Gambling

David's addiction manifested differently than most cases I've treated. At forty-one, he was a high-functioning professional, a university professor with tenure, happily married with three kids. He'd never set foot in a casino, but fantasy sports leagues consumed him. What began as a casual March Madness bracket became daily fantasy football, basketball, baseball—anything he could bet on. He'd spend hours researching statistics, convinced his knowledge gave him an edge. His wife noticed him staying up until three a.m. on his laptop, becoming irritable when interrupted, neglecting family activities. David insisted it wasn't gambling, it was skill-based gaming. He lost $80,000 in two years—much of it their children's college funds—before his wife discovered the extent during tax preparation. What struck me about David's case was his genuine shock that he fit the profile of a gambling addict. He'd convinced himself that because he never visited casinos, because he was wagering on skill-based outcomes, because he was educated and analytical, he was different. His intelligence had actually enabled deeper denial.

Finding the Path to Recovery

If you recognize yourself or someone you love in these stories, please know that help exists and recovery is possible. Gambling addiction is a recognized disorder with effective treatments including cognitive behavioral therapy, support groups like Gamblers Anonymous, and sometimes medication for co-occurring conditions. The National Council on Problem Gambling operates a twenty-four-hour helpline (1-800-522-4700) offering confidential support and referrals. Many treatment centers specialize in gambling addiction, and numerous therapists have specific training in this area. Financial counseling can help address the practical aftermath while therapy addresses the underlying issues. Every person I've described eventually found their way to recovery, though the path wasn't easy and the consequences of their addiction remained. What made the difference was asking for help, accepting the reality of their addiction, and committing to the difficult work of healing. The shame that keeps people suffering in silence is the addiction's greatest ally—breaking that silence is the first step toward freedom.

Gabapentin, originally developed as an anti-seizure medication, has become one of the most commonly prescribed drugs in the United States. Marketed under brand names like Neurontin and Gralise, this medication belongs to a class of drugs called anticonvulsants or antiepileptics. While initially designed to treat epilepsy, gabapentin has found widespread use in managing neuropathic pain, restless leg syndrome, and as an adjunct treatment for anxiety disorders.

A few facts
- Up to 68% of gabapentin misusers combine it with opioids to boost euphoric effects.
- Over 40 million gabapentin prescriptions were dispensed in 2022 up from 18 million in 2004
- Nearly 90% of gabapentin-detected overdose deaths also involved opioids, particularly fentanyl

Standard Use and Consumption

Under normal medical supervision, gabapentin is taken orally in capsule, tablet, or liquid form. The medication works by affecting calcium channels in the nervous system, which helps reduce abnormal electrical activity in the brain and alters pain signal transmission. Typical dosages range from 300mg to 3,600mg daily, divided into multiple doses throughout the day. The drug has a relatively good safety profile when used as prescribed, with common side effects including dizziness, drowsiness, and coordination problems.

Healthcare providers often prescribe gabapentin for off-label uses, including managing chronic pain conditions like fibromyalgia, diabetic neuropathy, and post-herpetic neuralgia. Its calming effects have also made it popular for treating alcohol withdrawal symptoms and certain psychiatric conditions, though these applications remain controversial in some medical circles.

The Reality of Snorting Gabapentin

The question of whether gabapentin can be snorted reflects a concerning trend in prescription drug misuse. Technically, yes, gabapentin can be crushed and insufflated, but this method of administration comes with significant risks and little benefit. Unlike some medications that produce rapid, intense effects when snorted, gabapentin's bioavailability actually decreases when taken this way.

When gabapentin is consumed orally, it's absorbed through a specific transport system in the intestines that becomes saturated at higher doses. This saturation effect means that snorting the drug doesn't produce the enhanced or accelerated effects that users might expect. Instead, it often results in nasal irritation, potential damage to nasal passages, and unpredictable absorption rates.

The powder form of crushed gabapentin can cause severe irritation to mucous membranes, leading to nosebleeds, chronic congestion, and in some cases, permanent damage to nasal structures. Additionally, the inactive ingredients in gabapentin tablets, such as fillers and binding agents, are not designed for nasal administration and can cause further complications.

Real-World Experiences and Consequences

Emergency departments across the country have reported cases involving gabapentin misuse. Dr. Sarah Martinez, an emergency physician at a major metropolitan hospital, recalls treating a 28-year-old construction worker who had been snorting gabapentin for several months. "He came in with severe nasal congestion, frequent nosebleeds, and complained that the medication wasn't working for his chronic back pain anymore," she explained. The patient had progressively increased his dosage and changed his method of administration, leading to both physical complications and reduced therapeutic effectiveness.

Another case involved a 34-year-old woman who had been prescribed gabapentin for anxiety. After reading online forums suggesting that snorting the medication would provide faster relief, she began crushing her pills. Within weeks, she developed chronic sinusitis and had to be treated with antibiotics. Her anxiety symptoms actually worsened due to the inconsistent absorption and reduced effectiveness of the medication.

Addiction treatment centers have also noted an increase in gabapentin-related admissions. Michael Thompson, a counselor at a rehabilitation facility in Ohio, reports seeing patients who began misusing gabapentin after developing tolerance to their prescribed dosage. "Many don't realize that gabapentin can be habit-forming, especially at higher doses," Thompson notes. "We've seen people escalate from standard oral use to crushing and snorting, often in combination with other substances."

Research and Medical Evidence

Academic research has consistently shown that alternative routes of gabapentin administration offer no therapeutic advantage. A study published in the Journal of Clinical Pharmacology by researchers at the University of Alabama examined the pharmacokinetics of gabapentin across different administration methods. The research demonstrated that intranasal administration resulted in lower peak plasma concentrations and reduced overall bioavailability compared to oral administration.

The National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) has identified gabapentin as an increasingly misused prescription medication, particularly in combination with opioids. Research published in the American Journal of Psychiatry found that gabapentin misuse was associated with higher rates of emergency department visits and overdose incidents when combined with other central nervous system depressants.

A comprehensive review conducted by Johns Hopkins School of Medicine analyzed emergency department data from 2013 to 2017 and found a 119% increase in gabapentin-related visits. The study noted that alternative administration methods, including insufflation, were associated with more severe adverse outcomes.

Medical Recommendations

Healthcare professionals universally advise against snorting gabapentin or any other prescription medication not specifically designed for nasal administration. The risks far outweigh any perceived benefits, and patients experiencing inadequate symptom control should consult their healthcare providers about appropriate dosage adjustments or alternative treatments.

For individuals struggling with gabapentin misuse, medical supervision during discontinuation is essential, as stopping suddenly can lead to withdrawal symptoms including anxiety, insomnia, and in rare cases, seizures. Treatment programs specifically addressing prescription drug misuse are available and can provide comprehensive support for recovery.

The bottom line remains clear: gabapentin should only be used as prescribed, through oral administration, under proper medical supervision.

Stats Sources
- U.S. FDA & CDC
- Gabapentin prescriptions number U.S. 2004-2022 | Statista
- CDC

 Key Statistics on Porn Consumption and Addiction

• Prevalence of Porn Addiction: Approximately 3–6% of U.S. adults—equating to 7.7 to 15 million people—are estimated to struggle with pornography addiction. Maze of Love
• Regular Porn Usage: Over 40 million adults in the United States regularly engage with pornographic websites. Increditools
• Digital Footprint: Pornographic content constitutes approximately 35% of all internet downloads, indicating the vast amount of such material being stored and potentially hoarded. Increditools
• Daily Consumption Rates: Surveys indicate that 5–11% of individuals watch pornography daily, suggesting habitual usage patterns. Ballard Brief+1Wikipedia+1

The 5 Stages of Porn Hoarding

While hoarding is commonly associated with physical clutter, digital hoarding—especially of adult content—is a growing and often overlooked behavior. Here's a breakdown of how porn hoarding can evolve over time, based on the classic 5 stages of hoarding behavior: 

Stage 1: Casual Collection

"Just saving a few favorites..."

 

At this stage, behavior is socially typical. You might download or bookmark videos or images for offline access or easy retrieval. There’s a sense of control, no stress around the behavior, and your digital stash is neatly organized—maybe even curated like a playlist.

🔹 Sign to watch for: You find yourself thinking, “Why not save it? I might want it later.”

Stage 2: Growing Attachment

"This one’s too good to delete."

The collection grows. You begin saving more frequently—often downloading content “just in case.” You might not revisit most of it, but deleting anything feels like a loss. You may even start categorizing folders obsessively or backing them up to avoid losing them.

🔹 Sign to watch for: A reluctance to delete or even re-watch material you’ve saved months ago.

Stage 3: Compulsive Accumulation

"I need to keep this... and this... and this..."

Now the behavior becomes habitual. You’re downloading daily or hoarding from multiple sources, often duplicating similar content. You may start to notice it’s eating up hard drive space or cloud storage—but rationalize it as harmless. You rarely use most of what you’ve stored.

🔹 Sign to watch for: You spend more time collecting than actually viewing. Your collection grows faster than you can manage.

Stage 4: Disorganization and Distress

"I can’t find anything anymore..."

You’re overwhelmed. The folders are chaotic, and you can’t even locate specific content. There’s guilt or embarrassment, and you may hide your drives or files. You start to feel a loss of control, and the behavior begins interfering with your time, focus, or relationships.

🔹 Sign to watch for: Feelings of anxiety, shame, or frustration tied to your stash—and continuing to hoard anyway.

Stage 5: Digital Dependence

"I don’t know how to stop."

At this point, porn hoarding is compulsive and possibly addictive. You feel unable to stop despite negative consequences—wasting time, harming relationships, or damaging mental health. Attempts to clean up are abandoned, or you secretly start over. It may serve as a coping mechanism for stress, loneliness, or boredom.

🔹 Sign to watch for: You've tried to stop or reduce the behavior multiple times, but it always returns.

How to Stop Porn Hoarding

 

Stopping porn hoarding begins with acknowledging the behavior and understanding why it started in the first place. Start by setting clear boundaries for yourself—limit the amount of content you save and make a conscious effort to avoid downloading or bookmarking anything unnecessary. Consider seeking professional help if the urge to hoard feels compulsive or tied to deeper emotional or psychological issues, like loneliness or stress. Engaging in activities that build self-control—such as meditation, exercise, or hobbies—can help shift your focus away from the need to accumulate. Most importantly, go through your existing collection, evaluate what no longer serves you, and commit to deleting unnecessary content. Creating a healthy relationship with your digital consumption, just like with any habit, involves replacing unhealthy patterns with healthier, more fulfilling ones.

When was the last time you had a really good daydream? As a former therapist, it's a question I wish more therapists and counselors would ask clients. It turns out that daydreaming frequency may be a good barometer of mental health. In fact, daydreaming and creativity have similar cognitive and neural processes. Unfortunately, the lost art of daydreaming was lost precisely because society vilified it as an idle, lazy habit for far too long. 

If you're like me, you grew up with adults telling you to stop daydreaming. As a result, I have a reflexive habit of catching myself whenever I'm letting my mind trail off without being "productive." As texting and screens became a bigger part of my life, I would reach for my phone to check email or go over my calendar whenever I needed a break from a tough cognitive task. Meanwhile, I wondered why I constantly suffered from brain fog and decision fatigue. I was choosing distraction over daydreaming because I thought it made me a better person. I've learned since then.

What Is Daydreaming?

While often thought of as whimsical or childish, daydreaming is simply a mental process that involves our minds drifting toward internal thoughts and feelings. While some daydreams involve intricate imagined scenarios or fantasies, others are little pops of wistful or wishful thinking. The fun part about daydreams is that they can bring us to the past, the present, or a future that has not yet arrived! 

Unlike nighttime dreams that are dictated by subconscious and involuntary imagery, daydreaming keeps up in the driver's seat to craft and steer scenarios. That's why daydreams are generally pleasant, optimistic, and aspirational. Daydreams are also different from rumination and worry in this way. Let me go on a quick detour before circling back to more of the reasons why I'm pro daydream.

If you're curious about the impact of daydreaming on mental health because you feel plagued by excessive daydreaming, you may actually be dealing with something called maladaptive daydreaming. Also known as excessive daydreaming, maladaptive daydreaming happens when a person experiences excessive daydreaming that interferes with daily life.

Daydreams can be intense, disruptive, and unwanted. It can even feel like your mind is slipping into vivid, detailed daydreams that you get lost in with no sense of control. This is not the type of beneficial, therapeutic daydreaming I'm discussing. Maladaptive daydreaming is often a coping response to stress that needs to be worked through with a therapist. You may be more likely to experience maladaptive daydreaming if you have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), an anxiety disorder, depression, or a dissociative disorder.

One big reason why I believe we need to restore the art of daydreaming is that our busy, digitally driven lifestyles have contributed to a decline in daydreaming. One of the benefits of boredom historically is that it boosted human creativity.

While most of us can grasp what dreaming looks and feels like, we may not be aware of what's actually happening in the brain when this type of mental wandering takes place. Daydreaming is part of the brain's default network that includes regions more active during passive tasks compared to tasks that demand focused external attention. Daydreaming may provide much-needed mental breaks from boring, difficult, or tedious tasks. Daydreams can be like little brain "refreshers."

One study that looked at mental wandering's impact on creative incubation found that people who allow their minds to wander experience boosts in creative problem-solving. In addition, a 2015 study on mind wandering's role in forming alternative creative solutions found that participants who mind-wandered performed better on a creative task. Interestingly, this study found that mind-wanderers were able to access answers in a flash instead of needing to participate in methodical testing of different solutions.

More recently, researchers have been able to map brain activity during daydreaming spells. As part of a study published in 2023, researchers tracked activity of neurons in the visual cortex of the brains of mice while in a quiet waking state. What they found was that the neurons fired in patterns similar to the ones created when mice looked at actual images. Assuming that mice were thinking (daydreaming) about the image, researchers could then use those activity patterns to predict how the brain's response to the image would evolve over time. What this shows is that daydreams have the potential to shape the brain's future response to things it sees. For humans, this could mean that daydreaming has enormous implications for brain plasticity and the brain's ability to remodel itself in response to new experiences.

Daydreaming and Mental Health Benefits

Imagine any kind of spiritual or meditative practice that was shown to reduce stress and anxiety, boost problem-solving skills, and enhance creativity. Doctors, gurus, and all of your favorite celebrity influencers would surely be screaming about its benefits from the rooftops. Meanwhile, studies show that daydreaming actually does all of these things!

While research on exactly which parts of the brain come alive during daydreaming is still emerging, one thing we do know is that daydreaming utilizes diverse parts of the brain. Think of it like a workout that has your brain's executive problem-solving network and creativity network simultaneously pumping iron. In addition to strengthening individual areas of the brain, daydreaming can also help to strengthen communication and connection between different parts of the brain.

The Decline of Daydreaming

Why don't we daydream any longer? If you thought that daydreaming was simply something that fades away in adulthood, you may be a victim of the era you're living in. Unfortunately, many of us are in the habit of reaching for a screen during the times when generations before us would have simply allowed their minds to wander naturally. Just think of the scenario I'm about to share with you.

You're struggling to solve a problem at work. You rub your eyes, take a deep yawn, and look away from the computer screen you've been staring at for hours. Your mind is just about to "check out" for a moment when you're suddenly pulled back in by the "ding" of an email arriving in your inbox, a text alert on your phone, or a Facebook notification. Rather than following your mind to where it was about to lead you, you're now tapped into a long message or video. I call this daydream, interrupted.

So many of us don't have time to daydream because screens and technology are directing our streams of consciousness instead of allowing our brains to follow their own paths. In fact, it's so common nowadays for us to instinctively reach for our screens whenever there is a lull of any kind in our workflow. 

We are simply too distracted to daydream. What's more, digital distractions can act like a type of counterfeit daydream. We get the feeling that we "escaped" or "drifted off" from our task for a bit. However, we don't actually get the creativity boost or mind "refreshment" that we'd get if the parts of our brains associated with daydreaming were actually activated. We actually come back more fatigued.

How to Reclaim the Art of Daydreaming for Mental Health

Therapeutic daydreaming starts with giving our minds permission to wander. If you're struggling to daydream, chances are high you're not giving yourself the space to do it. Consider these questions: 

●     Were you chastised for daydreaming or "not paying attention" by teachers or parents as a child? You may be so convinced that "good" kids don't waste time daydreaming that you instantly distract yourself with something that feels more productive whenever you begin to feel your mind wander.

●     Do you logistically have opportunities to daydream? Let's think about turning off alerts on your phone or logging off from email when we decide it's time for a brain break.

●     Do you feel fundamentally uncreative or unimaginative because you're not letting play into your life? When was the last time you read a book just for fun or did a puzzle? By bringing more play into our lives, we can activate creative areas of the brain that can make daydreams more vivid and useful.

If daydreaming isn't happening organically, consider using some prompts. For example, push away from your work desk for just a minute to picture where you'd travel if you could anywhere in the world, think of what it would be like to suddenly pop into a scene from a movie you recently saw, or simply picture a painting you love to see where your mind takes you. Don't be surprised if you suddenly have answers to problems or creative strategies for work that have nothing to do with your actual daydream scenario when you pop back into reality.

Consider This Your Permission to Daydream

If you're in a creative, mental, or problem-solving rut, consider this your permission to take a mind break to dive into a daydream. In my experience as a therapist, daydreaming provides many of the mental health and neuroplasticity benefits of play that we enjoyed as kids. It all adds up to daydreaming being much better for your mental health than the digital distractions we've all come to rely on instead.