The Real Reason People Lie About How Much They Drink (and what's really going on)

If you're watching this, you've probably stood in front of someone you love and lied straight to their face about your drinking or using or other addictive behavior. And the worst part, you might've actually believed what you were saying was true. Or maybe you didn't believe it. Or maybe you knew they could see right through you, but you said it anyway because what else were you supposed to say? Maybe you made promises you couldn't keep. Maybe you've hidden bottles. Maybe you've had an entire conversation you don't even remember. Maybe you're sitting here right now thinking, I don't even know who I am anymore. The thing is, you're not a monster. You're not evil and you're not beyond help, but something is happening in your brain that's making it nearly impossible to be honest, even with yourself, or especially with yourself. Before we go any further, hit that subscribe button because this content is for you, not about you. Maybe your brain is making it impossible to be honest, even with yourself, or maybe I should say, especially with yourself. So let's take a look at what's really happening here. And let's start with the moment right before you drink, you smoke, fill in the blank, because that's where it all begins, right? You're stressed, you're bored, you're angry, you're celebrating, or it's Tuesday, or something in your brain says, you know what would help right now? And immediately another part of your brain jumps in with reasons why it's okay. Just one drink to take the edge off. You've had a terrible day. You deserve this. Nobody will know. You'll just have a couple and then stop. Tomorrow you'll get serious. But But tonight doesn't count. In that moment, those reasons feel legitimate. They don't feel like excuses. They feel like actual reasonable logic. You're not sitting there thinking, I'm about to destroy my life. You're thinking, this is fine. I've got this under control. And so you do. You drink, you use, you smoke. And now maybe while you're doing that, you're actually keeping it together. See, told you I could have just a couple. Or maybe you're not. Maybe you're a couple of turns into sick. Maybe you black out. Maybe you say things you don't mean and maybe you do things you regret. But in that moment, you're not thinking about that. You're just relieved. The edge is off. The anxiety is quieter. The anger is duller. You feel like you can breathe again until the next morning is when it hits. The shame, the guilt, the, oh God, what did I do? Maybe you check your phone to see who you texted. Maybe you try to piece together what happened. Maybe you go see your partner, try to look at their face to figure out, am I in trouble? Did I mess up? And that voice in your head starts, you're such a failure. You're weak. You're ruining everything. Everyone would be better off without you. The shame cycle is crushing. It's suffocating. It's so heavy. You can barely function. So you make a promise to yourself, to them, to God, to whoever will listen. I'm done and I mean it this time. This was the last time. I am never doing it again. And you mean it in that moment. You absolutely mean it with every fiber in your being. And in that moment, you can see the consequences clearly. You can see the pain in their eyes. You can feel the weight of what you're losing, and you know you can't keep doing this. So you promise, you believe your own promises, but then Thursday comes or Saturday or 2 weeks later, you're stressed Again, you're bored again. You had a fight, you got triggered, or you just had a long day and that voice comes back. You know what would really help right now? And all those promises you made, they feel like distant, like they don't apply to this situation. Like this time is different. I'm not going to get drunk. I'll just have one to take the edge off. I've been doing so well. I deserve a reward, a cheat day. I can't handle this stress without something. They're overreacting anyway. And so it's not that bad. I'm a grown man. I'm a grown woman. I can make my own decisions. And so you do it again. And You tell yourself it's fine. You've got it under control this time. And then the next morning comes and the shame comes back and the promises come back and the cycle starts all over again. And somewhere in there, the lies start because now people are asking questions. Now they're watching you. Now they're counting your drinks. How much did you have? And you say, just a couple when you know it was 8, not because you're trying to hurt them, but because admitting the truth means admitting you broke another promise. It means you got to see that look on their face again. It means another really uncomfortable conversation about how you need to stop, and you can't handle that conversation right now. You're already drowning in shame and regret. You don't need more, and so you lie, and you hope they believe you, or you hope they just drop it, but they don't believe you, and you can see it in their eyes, and now they know you're lying, and now they're angry or crying or both. You promised me. You looked me in the eye and you promised me you were done, and you want to scream, I was. I meant it. Because you did mean it in that moment. When you promised, you absolutely meant it. They don't understand that. To them, it looks like you're choosing addiction over them. It looks like you're choosing something over them. It looks like your promises mean absolutely nothing. And now you're defensive because from your perspective, they're attacking you. They're controlling you. They're always on your case. They're making you feel like a child, like a failure, like you can't do anything right. I had 2 beers. Why is that such a crime? You're always exaggerating. You make everything such a big deal. Maybe if you weren't on my case all the time, I I wouldn't need to drink or smoke or use. Everyone does it. Why am I the only one with a problem? You're not even defending the drinking or using anymore. You're defending yourself, your right to make your own choices, your autonomy, your dignity. Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being about alcohol and started being about whether you're a good person or not. And the truth is, you don't feel like a good person anymore. You feel like a liar, a failure, a disappointment. You look at yourself in the mirror and you don't recognize who you've become. You think about that person you used to Or the person you thought you'd be by now. And this isn't it. This isn't who you wanted to be. This isn't the life you wanted to live, but you don't know how to stop because every time you try to stop with willpower alone, you fail. Every time you make a promise, you break it. Every time you say this is the last time, it isn't. And nobody's telling you this. It's not because you're weak. It's not because you don't want it badly enough. It's not because you don't love people in your life enough. It's because something happens in your brain when that craving hits. It makes it impossible to think clearly. That part of your brain that knows the consequences, that remembers the promises, that sees the bigger picture, the volume on that part gets turned way down. Meanwhile, the cravings, the stress, the need for relief, now that, that's at full volume. It's the only thing that feels real in the moment. And when someone's confronting you, when they're crying or yelling or begging, your brain doesn't really register that as concern. Your brain registers that as a threat. Threat, as pressure, as one more thing you need to escape from. And what is your brain's solution to that threat and pressure? The substance. So you lie, not because you're a bad person, but because admitting the truth means facing something your brain isn't equipped to face in that moment. You break promises, not because they don't matter, but because the version of you that made those promises and the version of you that breaks them are operating in 2 different brains. You defend yourself, not because you think you're right, but because you feel attacked and your brain goes into Survival mode and you keep drinking, not because you're choosing it over the people you love, but because in that moment, your brain makes it feel impossible not to. Now, the hard truth, understanding why this is happening doesn't make it stop happening. You still need to change. The lying still hurts people. The broken promises still damages trust. The drinking still has consequences, but you can't change this with willpower alone. You probably already figured that part out, right? Promise your way out of this. You can't just try harder. You can't just wait until you hit bottom. And that makes you desperate enough. What you need to do is understand that you're not fighting a behavior problem; you're fighting an identity problem. As long as you see yourself as someone who drinks, uses, smokes, gambles, as long as that's part of your identity, stopping feels like losing a part of yourself. So your brain will lie to you to protect that identity. It'll tell you you're fine, you can handle this, everyone's overreacting because admitting you can't handle it means becoming someone different, and your brain doesn't know who that person is yet. The word The work isn't just about stopping the drinking or the using. The work is about building a new identity, a version of yourself that doesn't need the substance. Not someone who's just white-knuckling it through it, but someone who genuinely doesn't identify as that person anymore. It's not a willpower project. It's something completely different. I know some of you watching are thinking, okay, Amber, I get it, but how? How do I actually do this? How do I stop lying to myself? How do I build a new identity? That's exactly the work that we do in my recovery coaching. I was just talking about this with a client just last week and in my strengths-based recovery coaching program, because it isn't about shaming you. It's not about making you feel worse than you already do. That's the work that we do in our strengths-based recovery coaching program. It isn't about shaming you. It isn't about making you feel worse than you already do. It's about understanding your specific situation, patterns, your triggers, and building an identity that doesn't need the addictive behavior. I only take a few clients each month because this work is intensive and personal. If you're ready to stop the cycle and you're tired of lying yourself and everyone else, there's an application link in the description. But let's talk. Now, if you're someone who loves someone in an addiction, if you're watching this trying to understand what they're going through, I want to ask you to do something. Leave a comment below and share what it's like from your side, not in anger or judgment, but in honesty. What does it feel like when they lie to you? What do you wish they understood about how this affects you? Because the people watching this who are struggling need to hear it from you. They need to understand what they can't see right now. And sometimes it's easier to hear from someone else other than your loved one. Now, here's your takeaway. You're not lying because you're a bad person. You're lying because your brain is lying to you first. You're not breaking promises because they don't matter. You're breaking them because your brain that makes that promise and the brain that breaks it are functioning differently. You're not choosing this over the people you love. You're trapped in a cycle where your brain makes that choice feel impossible to resist. But understanding this doesn't really fix it. You still have to do the work. And the work isn't about trying harder. It's about becoming someone different, someone who doesn't need to lie because they're not running from the truth anymore. If you haven't subscribed yet, do that now because we're going to keep having these real conversations that no one else is willing to have with you. And I'll see you next week.