Hungover on Honesty
An unexpected consequence of opening up to others.
I hosted a small get together at my place last night. Three of the most awesome people I’ve met over the last year. People I mostly spend one on one time with. Having them all in the same place felt really great, we enjoyed both conversation and companionable silence, weaving between deeper topics and the more mundane. The meal turned out well and the weather cooperated perfectly, allowing for an after dinner walk and glimpse of the sunset before the rain moved in.
Today, I’m hungover. My concentration is nowhere to be found and I had a hard time getting out of bed. I wasn’t able to even consider writing until after lunch. But I can’t blame alcohol – I haven’t had a drink in eighteen months.
I’m hungover from the anxiety and stress brought on by inviting others into my home. From bringing together people I’ve all had multiple extremely honest and deep conversations with, and hoping they’ll feel safe and seen and cared for in a group setting. From sharing with the group a raw and emotionally laden story about how I came close to losing a pet in a fire a few years ago.
It turned out very well, but I put myself out there, I opened myself (and my home) up to the potential for failure, for criticism, for awkwardness, and today I’m feeling the consequences of that.
I’m suffering from what is known as a vulnerability hangover1 – a sensation of shame, overwhelm, or regret brought on by sharing a normally hidden part of ourselves with others.
The critical importance of sharing our true, real experiences of life with others, even when we have resistance to it, has been a recurring theme in my prior posts. I have found huge personal value in this approach, as I finally feel like I belong and don’t have to hide away behind some facade of who I think the world expects me to be.
But I don’t want to give you the impression that this kind of sharing is easy, or comes without risks. One of the road bumps you’re almost guaranteed to encounter is this vulnerability-induced sense of being hungover.
The Cause
As I’ve written about previously, we’re taught throughout our lives that certain behaviors are acceptable, and others aren’t. We learn that being vulnerable and open is a recipe for getting mocked and shamed.
I don’t remember much of what I learned from my teachers in middle school, but I remember clearly the pain of being relentlessly made fun of for doing anything at all outside the norm.
Thirty years later, I don’t surround myself with vicious pre-teens who will tear me down at every opportunity. But my body still gets very upset when I do something that would’ve invoked a lot of pain in the past.
The Symptoms
I often first notice a physical reaction – lethargy, a headache, a strong desire to stay in bed or take a nap, an upset stomach. I have trouble concentrating, and often retreat to my preferred behaviors for numbing myself (Netflix, reading, video games, mindless chores). The comparison to an alcohol induced hangover is surprisingly accurate.
It can be disconcerting, like a flipped switch. I went from wrapping up a great dinner with some of my best friends to suddenly feeling like I’m getting sick and that I’ve done something terribly wrong.
At times the hangover will start the very moment I’m alone. I get in my car, leaving an intense yet enjoyable hangout, and immediately feel an overwhelming sense of having shared too much.
And just like a normal hangover, these also will eventually go away on their own. Sometimes after a few hours, sometimes after a full day.
Why Do We Care?
Vulnerability hangovers run the risk of us building a negative association between vulnerability and the rough reaction we feel later.
If we’re not aware of the potential for vulnerability hangovers, we can take the wrong message from them, and easily convince ourselves that we’ve been too open, exposed too much of ourselves, even without any evidence. We’re then prone to closing back up and don’t allow ourselves the huge benefits of building deep and open relationships where we can finally feel seen and understood.
By expecting vulnerability hangovers, understanding the reasons behind them, and not allowing them to stop us from opening up, we can start a self-perpetuating cycle. The more we open up, the more we connect to others, and the more we feel the benefits of vulnerability, the more we’ll want to keep living this way.
The Cure
I haven’t found a way to eliminate vulnerability hangovers from my life. But I’ve learned to live with them and how to help out others going through them.
Go easy on yourself. These hangovers are a very understandable reaction to a lifetime of connecting the sharing of raw experiences with difficult outcomes. You’re doing the hard work of rewiring your neural pathways, so give yourself some credit.
Build up a tolerance. The more vulnerable I am, the more I get used to the sensation of being hungover, and even learn to expect it. As I internalize the benefits of vulnerability, I find myself more willing to tolerate the hangovers.
Be vulnerable about your vulnerability hangover. Acknowledge to others that you’re experiencing one. It feels counterintuitive that being more vulnerable would help in this situation, but getting compassion and understanding from others can be just what’s needed.
Introduce the concept to others. I’ve gotten in the habit of saying things like “Bet I’ll have a vulnerability hangover after this,” and if I’m met with a blank stare, introducing the concept. I’ve found this especially helpful in groups, as it’s almost guaranteed someone will either not know the concept or welcome the reminder of it.
Reinforce how much you appreciate vulnerability.
and I learned this one together. When we first started becoming friends, we often would have hours long chats about very personal stuff, and be both hit with vicious feelings of overwhelm later in the day. But even a text as simple as, “Hey I really enjoyed hanging out today and getting to know you better, it means a lot that you were willing to share so much with me.” made a huge difference.
I didn’t feel great today. I had a hard time getting things done. But I know with all my heart it was worth it. I wouldn’t trade anything for finally having so many people in my life I can truly be myself around. It’s a worthwhile price to pay.
Resources
I enjoyed
’ take on this subject in the New York Times.I aim to write what I needed to hear earlier in my life (and hopefully what others need to hear now) so I would love for this to reach as wide of an audience as possible. If you know someone who you think might find this of use, please share it. And as always, please click that ♥️ button.
Coined by Brené Brown in her book Daring Greatly
In my friend group, we call this "Hangxiety" - and get to laugh about it when we feel it together. Love this.
Great post! And great images! 😊