The Honey That Stings: Yet kept me coming back!

January 19, 2026 

Andy Spears, Author

Tom O'Connor, Publisher

The phrase "the honey that stings" is also a metaphor for substances like alcohol and drugs. The initial "sweetness" or pleasure derived from these substances can draw people in. The "sting" comes from the harmful effects that follow, such as addiction, health problems, and social issues.

Author Andy Spears has a Ph.D., writes on substance use disorder recovery, and is a public policy advocate living in Nashville, TN.  

According to Andy Spears:

I don't remember when I crossed the line. The fine line between I'm having a drink or two on a Friday night, to I'm having three or more drinks and staying upstairs alone — but still only on Friday — to I'm drinking every night, and basically living upstairs on the weekend.

The substance held a seemingly inescapable draw. The feeling- "that feeling" - kept me coming back. Kept me thinking during the week about those weekend meetings with my glass and a bottle of bourbon.

Reading a piece by Judy Walker reminded me of the way it used to feel: My senses were heightened, honey flowed through my veins, and my body was wrapped in gauzy goodness.

I've Been Hiding the Truth From Everyone (Especially Myself)

It's proving impossible to feel joy inside this lie I've been living. "Why did you keep drinking even after it started causing you some problems?" I'm sometimes asked. That feeling — the honey in my veins feeling — that's why.

It's something I've struggled to describe to non-addicts. To people who have never known the sensation of warm honey oozing inside them. If they felt that honey-sweet feeling when they drank, they would think about it all the time, too. 

Judy Walker, in her Medium article, also notes: Alcohol was a bridge to the part of me I didn't have access to when I was sober. I became livelier, happier, and less inhibited. Same. I spent a long time trying not to use alcohol to get there. I ran long distances, watched movies alone in theaters, and listened to loud music.

Nothing took me there. Nothing calmed me. When I finally crossed that line — when I finally had the correct number of drinks in the right span of time — everything made sense. My mind stopped screaming.

The honey in the glass is a powerful force. Seductive. Intrusive. Unwilling to let go. And, it held some special benefits.

I could say words instead of stumbling awkwardly when meeting someone. I could respond when someone shared a desire. It's all just . . . worked.

And, well, that feeling. The honey feeling. It's what I wanted, even after drinking had caused me problems — even after I'd quit for a time and some good things started to happen.

I wanted the honey. I wanted to feel "normal." I wanted the noise in my head to stop. And so, I went back. And the honey came back. And so did the sting—angry employers, spouse, child, and friends.

Even then, I wanted the few moments of sweetness to brighten the dark days.

I was given instead time alone — because people just didn't want to be around the drinking version of me. And still — and maybe because — I wanted to at least have that feeling for a minute or two.

A lot of times, I could get there — get that combination timed just right for "the honey." But then, I wouldn't stop. And the sting would come — 10 times as bad as any "joy" I'd found.

I live an alcohol free life now. Most days, I don't even think about the honey in the bottle. And when I do, I have the clarity to remember how painful the inevitable sting is. But I do sometimes think, "Maybe this time, there won't be a sting."

Once you know the honey feeling, you can't un-know it. What I have learned, though, is that life is much sweeter without that artificial honey. Even the dark times are lighter without alcohol dragging me down.

• It takes effort, though, to resist the honey.

• I make it a point to read about people in recovery — their stories — daily. To remind me.

• I make it a point to talk with others who have struggled and found a way out of the relentless cycle of honey and sting.

• I make time to be quiet. To rest, to reflect, to focus on gratitude. 

Today, I don't want to drink. I don't want to live the life of honey and a round of stings.

For that, I am grateful.

---

A version of this article appeared on Medium, where Andy writes about substance use disorder and recovery.

Andy Spears can be reached at aspears35@gmail.com.

If you enjoyed this article, 

Please forward to a friend or colleague who might benefit from it!