We call it relaxing.
We call it unwinding.
We call it taking the edge off.
We rarely call it masking.
Masking sounds dramatic. It sounds like addiction. It sounds like a problem.
Most of us do not believe we have a problem. We believe we have stress. We believe we have history. We believe we deserve a little help loosening up.
So, we pour the drink.
We light the joint.
We take the pill.
We scroll.
We distract.
And we tell ourselves it is normal.
Culturally, it is normal.
That is part of the issue.
The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism reports that a significant percentage of adults use alcohol to cope with stress and anxiety. It is not rare. It is mainstream. Add marijuana use to the equation and the numbers climb higher, especially among younger adults. The language is always soft. Recreational. Social. Casual.
What is rarely discussed is what we are buffering.
In my book I ask a simple question. Why do we need substances in the first place when it comes to intimacy? That question is not about morality. It is about awareness.
Because masking does not begin with sex. It begins with discomfort.
Masking is what we do when a feeling rises that we do not want to feel.
Loneliness.
Shame.
Fear of rejection.
Fear of being seen.
Old grief that has never been processed.
When those feelings surface, especially in intimate moments, they can feel overwhelming. The body tightens. The breath shortens. The mind starts scanning for danger.
Instead of asking what is happening inside, we reach for something outside.
Dr. Gabor Maté writes in In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts that addiction is not about the substance. It is about the pain. The substance is simply the attempt to soothe or escape that pain. The same principle applies to masking in intimacy. The drink is not the issue. The avoidance is.
We tell ourselves stories to make it easier.
It helps me relax.
I am more fun this way.
It makes sex better.
Everyone does it.
I am not dependent.
The brain is very good at rationalizing behavior that brings short term relief. Dopamine does not care about long term consequences. It cares about immediate reduction of discomfort.
Alcohol lowers inhibition by suppressing activity in the prefrontal cortex. It quiets the inner critic. It dulls anxiety. It makes vulnerability feel less sharp. That is why it works in the beginning.
Marijuana alters perception and can reduce anxiety in some people. It can also create dissociation in others. Either way, it shifts awareness away from what is actually happening in the body.
Opioids suppress physical sensation and libido over time, altering hormonal balance and dulling the nervous system’s natural response to arousal.
Cocaine floods the brain with dopamine, creating intensity that mimics confidence and power.
All of them share one thing in common. They interrupt the body’s natural feedback system.
In The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel van der Kolk explains that trauma reorganizes the brain and nervous system. It changes how we perceive safety. When intimacy triggers old patterns, the nervous system reacts before the conscious mind catches up.
Masking steps in to silence that reaction.
Instead of asking, why did my chest tighten just now, we pour another drink.
Instead of noticing that eye contact feels exposing, we laugh it off and distract.
Instead of admitting, I feel scared to be this close, we override the fear with intensity.
Masking is clever.
It protects us from discomfort in the short term. It allows us to perform. To show up. To function.
Masking prevents integration.
If your nervous system is signaling danger during intimacy, and you numb that signal repeatedly, you never teach your body that intimacy can be safe. You only teach it that you do not trust its signals.
Over time, that creates a split.
One part of you wants connection.
Another part braces against it.
Masking sits in between and keeps both parts quiet.
We make excuses because the alternative feels threatening.
If I do not drink, what if I feel too much.
If I do not smoke, what if I cannot relax.
If I do not numb, what if I have to confront what is underneath.
Underneath is often grief. Or shame. Or unresolved trauma. Or fear of inadequacy.
Research consistently shows that individuals with unresolved trauma have higher rates of substance use. Not because they are weak. Because their nervous systems are dysregulated. They are trying to self soothe.
The problem is that self soothing through sedation does not build capacity. It builds tolerance.
Tolerance means you need more to feel the same effect.
More alcohol to relax.
More stimulation to feel aroused.
More novelty to feel excitement.
Eventually, sober presence feels flat. Or uncomfortable. Or impossible.
Then the narrative shifts again.
Maybe I am just not a sexual person.
Maybe the spark is gone.
Maybe this relationship is the problem.
Sometimes it is not the relationship.
Sometimes it is the mask.
Masking also impacts emotional intimacy. When you are numbed, you are less attuned. Subtle cues are missed. Emotional depth is diluted. Conversations stay surface level. Conflict is avoided rather than processed.
And yet we defend the mask.
It is not that bad.
I deserve it.
It is only on weekends.
Notice the tone of those thoughts. Defensive. Justifying.
If something truly serves us, we rarely have to argue for it internally.
The deeper issue is fear of exposure.
Exposure of what.
Exposure of insecurity.
Exposure of unmet needs.
Exposure of longing.
It is easier to say, I just like to relax, than to say, I am afraid you will see how anxious I feel when we are close.
Masking is not about pleasure. It is about control.
When you numb, you control what you feel. You dampen intensity. You regulate your experience externally.
Real intimacy asks for the opposite.
It asks you to stay when your heart beats faster.
To breathe when you want to pull away.
To speak when silence feels safer.
That is uncomfortable work.
It is also transformative work.
When you begin to remove the mask, you may initially feel more anxious. That is not regression. That is sensation returning.
You may feel awkward. Slower. Less polished.
That is presence emerging.
The goal is not purity. It is awareness.
Are you choosing the substance consciously, or are you avoiding something unconsciously?
Are you enhancing connection, or replacing it?
Masking feels like relief.
Integration feels like vulnerability.
One is immediate.
The other is enduring.
If you have ever felt like you cannot fully access desire, or connection, or surrender without first taking the edge off, ask yourself gently what that edge actually is.
Fear.
Shame.
Old memory.
Self doubt.
Your nervous system is not broken. It adapted.
But adaptation is not the same thing as freedom.
Sober Sex explores this in depth. The psychology of masking. The science of trauma. The cultural normalization of numbing. And the path back to presence.
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If this stirred something in you, do not dismiss it.
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Masking keeps you functional.
Presence makes you free.
As always loving and praying for you.
Rene Schooler
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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