Why Are We So Compulsive?

There’s something about compulsions that seems to both drive us and calm us down. We use the word “compulsive” to describe almost everyone in some way or another. These days there are compulsive joggers, gamblers, liars, tweeters, dieters, cleaners, gossipers, smartphone users, shoppers, and so on. We even boast about many of our compulsions. We’re proud that we struggle out of bed every morning to run that circuit of the park come rain or shine. We’re delighted that the agony of sticking with our non-fat diet every day for the past few months has lost us a couple of pounds in weight. We stay up into the early hours playing Football Manager so we can tell our college friends about the joy of winning the Premiership title. And then we go back and do it all again tomorrow.

In her book, Can’t Just Stop, Sharon Begley argues that compulsions are the safety valve that allow us to diffuse the stress generated by the anxieties that plague us as we negotiate the demands of our modern world[1]. She claims that, overwhelmed by these anxieties, we grasp at anything that provides relief by offering an illusion of control and agency. We compulsively clean or compulsively check, we hoard or shop, or surf the web, or “wear out our thumbs with video games. We cling to compulsions as if to a lifeline, for it’s only by engaging in compulsions that we can drain enough of our anxiety to function.” It’s as if our compulsive addictions serve to convince us of our ability to manage events by exerting excessive control over those aspects of our lives that we know we—and only we—can influence. We compulsively exercise, we compulsively diet, we compulsively consume alcohol, we compulsively gamble—all are activities prominent in the modern era through which we try to lift our mood and regain our sense of agency and control.

The biology and psychology of compulsions are complex. Some compulsive activities come with their own indigenous rewards, and continuous exercise is one example. When you start to exercise, your brain interprets this as a reaction to threat. As your heart rate increases, your brain believes you’re fighting an enemy or fleeing from a threat, so the brain releases endorphins, a chemical that minimizes the discomfort of exercise, blocks feelings of pain, and even creates a feeling of euphoria. This is known colloquially as “runner’s high” in distance running or a “rower’s high” in rowing. The rewarding effect of this euphoria is stored in the brain and these memories help to create a conditioned response—a desire to perform those behaviours again. In this way a compulsion begins—a compulsion that may even turn into an involuntary addiction.

But apart from creating feelings of euphoria that counter our existential stress, exercise plays another role in helping to quell our anxiety. Exercise generates physical reactions such as sweating, dizziness, and a racing heart, all of which are associated with our fight and flight responses in reaction to threat, but are also sensations experienced during panic attacks. Bearing this in mind, Jasper Smits, co-director of the Anxiety Research & Treatment Program at Southern Methodist University in Dallas has argued that regular workouts might help people prone to anxiety become less likely to have panic attacks when they experience these fight or flight sensations[2]. Indeed, when they tested their theory on 60 volunteers with heightened sensitivity to anxiety, participants who exercised for two weeks showed significant improvements in anxiety sensitivity compared with a group who did not exercise[3].

However, the point at which a behaviour we find rewarding becomes a compulsion is an interesting one. The brain tends to register all pleasures in the same way, with a release of the neurotransmitter dopamine in that area of the brain known as the nucleus accumbens. This process occurs whether the reward is a drug, a sexual pleasure, a tasty meal, a gambling win, buying a new dress, or achieving yet another level on Candy Crush! Yet as we continue to repeat the behaviours that generate these rewards, the pleasurable outcome associated with the behaviour begins to subside—but the memory of the original desired effect is retained together with the need to recreate it, so we feel compelled to keep trying in anticipation of achieving that original high again. This is why we persist at a computer game into the depths of the night—just to try and achieve that high we felt when we last won. Sharon Begley believes this is a process that helps to explain many of the puzzling features of our compulsions. Such as why we compulsively check our phone when it pings or buzzes—no matter whether we’re in the street, about to fall asleep in bed, or even in an important meeting with the bank manager. Answering most of our texts or emails is not that pleasurable at all, but we’re driven to see if that next text or email is the one that’s going to live up to our expectations and bring us the pleasure that we know some messages can do—a pleasure that will replace the drudgery of our daily stresses and anxieties. Even President Trump’s compulsive tweeting may be explained in this way, says Begley. Being the smartest guy in the room is something that gives him a lot of pleasure, so whenever he’s feeling inferior for whatever reason (perhaps because he’s just compared his inauguration crowds to the Women’s March crowds), he tries to regain that feeling of ‘being the smartest guy’ by tweeting[4]. His tweeting alleviates his anxiety, and that tweet may be just the one that ‘wins the game’ and makes him the ‘smartest guy in the room’ again.

Many of us develop compulsions as a tool to manage the anxieties, demands and stresses of the modern world. They provide us with a sense of control over our lives; some repetitive activities such as exercise provide us with an indigenous high that consigns our daily stresses and anxieties to the back of our mind; and still other activities remind us of the highs they can bestow and instill us with a compulsive urge to try and re-achieve that high. The more the modern world makes us anxious and stressed, the more compulsive behaviours will wheedle their way into our daily routines offering a distraction, a sense of control where none seemed to exist before, and the hope of a brief dopamine rush if we can only persevere long enough to get it right and "win the game!"