Happy Chemicals Part 5: Endorphins — The Brain’s Natural Pain Relief – Blog: Detour From Hell; The Mind of a Hot Mess

Introduction: The Final Chemical Before the Stress Chemical

*Content Warning: This post discusses addiction, trauma responses, emotional pain, unhealthy coping patterns, and survival mode. Please read with care and take breaks if needed.

Throughout this series, so far, we have talked about the chemicals in our brain that influence happiness, motivation, connection, mood, attachment, survival, and healing.

Part 5 is going to be deep diving into Endorphins. Endorphins are often described as the body’s natural pain relievers. In a way, endorphins are one of the brain’s ways of saying: I know this hurts. Here is something to help you get through it.

And honestly, that makes endorphins one of the most important chemicals to understand in this series. Because healing is not just about feeling happy. Sometimes healing is about understanding how much pain our brain has been trying to help us survive.

When people think of “happy chemicals,” they may think of feeling good, being motivated, laughing, connecting, or experiencing joy. And yes, those things matter! More than you probably realize.

However, endorphins are a little different. Endorphins are not just about happiness. They are about relief. They are about pain. They are about stress. They are about the body’s ability to keep going when something hurts. That could be physical pain, emotional pain, grief, fear, anxiety, trauma, or even the exhaustion that comes from living in survival mode for too long.

Endorphins can help us push through moments that might otherwise feel unbearable. In some situations, that is a good thing. If we are injured, overwhelmed, scared, or under stress, the body has systems that help us keep functioning. Our brain and nervous system are designed to help us survive.

But like everything else in this series, the problem begins when a survival system becomes the only way we know how to function. Because if your brain gets used to pain followed by relief, chaos followed by calm, hurt followed by apology, or stress followed by numbness, it can start to confuse survival with normal.

And that is where things get complicated.

“You get addicted to emotions. Our endorphins kick in and it’s like a high. On the low end you might love roller coasters. On the high end you might be a bank robber or something.”
– Bryan Cranston

What Are Endorphins?

Endorphins are chemicals made by the brain and nervous system that help reduce pain and create feelings of relief or even mild pleasure.

The word “endorphin” comes from the idea of “endogenous morphine,” which basically means morphine-like chemicals made naturally inside the body.

That does not mean endorphins are the same thing as drugs. It means the body has its own built-in system for helping us tolerate pain, stress, and discomfort.

Endorphins can be released during things like exercise, laughter, crying, physical pain, emotional stress, music, certain foods, and intense experiences. This is part of why someone may feel a little lighter after a hard workout, a deep cry, a long laugh, or finally saying something out loud that they have been holding in for too long.

It is not “all in your head” in the dismissive way people sometimes say it. It is literally happening in your head. And your body. Your brain is responding to pain, stress, and pressure by trying to give you relief. I think that is important because so many people shame themselves for needing relief.

They think they should be stronger.
They think they should be able to handle more.
They think they should be able to push through without breaking down, without needing help, without needing rest, without needing an escape.

But the need for relief is not weakness. It is human. The issue is not that we need relief. The issue is where we learn to find it. When the brain is hurting, it will search for something that makes the pain stop, even temporarily.

Sometimes that relief comes from something healthy. Sometimes it comes from something destructive. And sometimes, especially when trauma, addiction, grief, or long-term stress are involved, the brain does not always know the difference at first. It just knows it wants the pain to stop.

“Brain wave tests prove that when we use positive words, our “feel good” hormones flow. Positive self-talk releases endorphins and serotonin in our brain, which then flow throughout our body, making us feel good. These neurotransmitters stop flowing when we use negative words.”
– Ruth Fishel

Endorphins and the Survival Brain

One thing I have learned through trying to understand my own Hot Mess of a Brain is that the brain is not always trying to make us happy. A lot of the time, it is trying to keep us alive.

That matters.

When someone has lived through trauma, addiction, grief, abuse, chaos, or years of stress, the brain may not be focused on peace, joy, or long-term health. It may be focused on getting through the next moment. That is survival.

Endorphins can be part of that survival system. They can dull the pain, create a sense of relief, and help someone keep going when they feel like they cannot.

And sometimes, that is necessary.

Sometimes survival mode is what gets us through the moment we could not avoid, the loss we could not stop, the trauma we did not choose, or the pain we were not ready to face all at once. But survival mode was never meant to become a permanent home.

When someone lives in survival mode long enough, the body can start to get used to certain patterns. Stress. Pain. Chaos. Relief. Temporary calm.

Then the cycle starts again. And when that cycle becomes familiar, peace can feel strange. Calm can feel suspicious. Stability can feel boring. Healthy love can feel uncomfortable.

Not because a person does not want peace or they are choosing pain. But because their brain may recognize chaos faster than it recognizes safety.

That is one of the hardest parts of healing. Sometimes the thing that is healthiest for us does not feel comfortable at first. Sometimes the thing that hurts us feels familiar. And familiar can be powerful.

“There are times when I feel lazy and just want to stay in bed all day, but I know that working out is the best way to get those endorphins going, which will make me feel better emotionally and physically.”
– Heather Locklear

When Relief Becomes the Goal

This is where endorphins connect so deeply to trauma, addiction, unhealthy relationships, and self-destructive coping patterns. A lot of people assume people chase harmful things because they want pleasure. But many times, people are not chasing happiness.

They are chasing relief.
Relief from anxiety.
Relief from grief.
Relief from shame.
Relief from memories.
Relief from physical pain.
Relief from emotional pain.
Relief from a brain that never shuts off.
Relief from feeling like you cannot exist comfortably inside your own body.

That is why telling someone to “just stop” usually misses the entire point.

Of course, accountability matters. Choices matter. Healing matters. The harm we cause ourselves and others matters. But if we do not understand what someone is trying to escape from, we will never fully understand why the pattern is so hard to break.

Sometimes the substance, relationship, behavior, or chaos becomes a shortcut to relief. A destructive shortcut, yes. But still relief.

And when that shortcut is removed, the pain underneath does not magically disappear. For me, this is one of the biggest differences between judgment and understanding.

Judgment says, “Why would you keep doing that?”
Understanding asks, “What pain is this helping you avoid?”

That does not excuse the behavior. It does not erase accountability. It does not mean people get a free pass to hurt themselves or others. But it does explain why shame alone rarely heals anything. Because shame often adds more pain to a person who was already trying to escape pain in the first place.

And when pain is the problem, more pain is not the long-term solution. This is one of the reasons addiction is so misunderstood. A lot of people think addiction is only about pleasure, partying, selfishness, or not caring about the consequences. But for many people, in reality, addiction is not about wanting to feel good. It is about wanting to stop feeling bad.

When a substance or behavior becomes the thing your brain associates with relief, taking it away can feel terrifying. Not because you do not want to get better. Not because you do not care. But because now you have to face everything that substance or behavior was helping you avoid: the grief, the anxiety, the trauma, the guilt, the memories, the fear, the discomfort of being fully present in your own body.

That is why recovery has to be about more than removing the substance. It has to be about learning how to live without needing to numb every painful feeling. It has to be about learning how to sit with discomfort without being swallowed by it. It has to be about being honest with yourself, continuing to become a better person, and not getting complacent. Toxic complacency is dangerous, especially in recovery. It is when someone becomes too comfortable, ignores red flags, stops growing, or stops putting in the effort needed to stay healthy.

Complacency can be very dangerous for an addict. Recovery requires awareness – regardless of how you obtained recovery. It requires honesty. It requires willingness. It requires learning how to feel pain without immediately needing to escape it.

It requires learning how to “live life on life’s terms, which is something you hear a lot in recovery halls.

One of the biggest things you hear in recovery is that you have to change people, places, and things. In my experience, as much as I tried to prove it wrong, it has been completely true.

Because if you are trying to heal while constantly surrounding yourself with the same toxic environments, the same toxic patterns, the same toxic chaos, the same toxic temptations, the same toxic enabling, and the same people who benefited from the unhealthy version of you, it becomes almost impossible to build something different.

Sometimes it means changing where you go.
Sometimes it means changing who has access to you.
Sometimes it means changing what you allow around you.
Sometimes it means changing the way you respond, even when every part of your nervous system wants to react the old way.

And sometimes it means changing all of the above.

That is not easy. Especially when escape used to be the only thing that worked fast enough. In recovery, you do not just remove the thing that was destroying you.

You have to build new ways to survive your own emotions. And for a while, healthy coping can feel weak compared to the thing that used to numb you. A walk probably won’t feel as powerful as a substance.
A meeting may not feel as immediate as escaping.
A journal may not feel as satisfying as lashing out.
A boundary may not feel as comforting as going back to what is familiar.

But that does not mean healthy coping is not working. It means your brain is learning a slower, safer kind of relief.

And slower is not always a negative thing. Sometimes slower is what makes healing real.

“There’s nothing like the endorphins from being fit, and the incredible endorphin rush that goes with that. It beats drugs, drink, and almost anything else I know.”
– Richard Branson

When Pain Feels Familiar

This is one of the hardest parts to explain to someone who has never lived it.

Sometimes people do not return to pain because they want to be hurt. They return because the pattern is familiar. That does not make it healthy. It does not make it okay. It does not mean the damage does not matter.

But it does help explain why some people struggle to leave situations, relationships, environments, or habits that keep hurting them. When your brain has learned to survive chaos, chaos can start to feel normal. And sometimes normal feels safer than unknown.

Peace can feel uncomfortable at first.
Calm can feel suspicious.
Quiet can feel like something bad is about to happen.
Healthy love can feel boring.
Consistency can feel fake.
Stability can feel unfamiliar.

I started working on this when I was in treatment and first got sober. I used to joke that I wanted a boring life. And I think everyone knew what I meant by that.

I did not mean I wanted a life with no joy, no fun, no meaning, or no purpose. I meant I wanted a life that was not constantly in crisis. A life where every day did not feel like survival. A life where chaos was not the normal setting. A life where there is not constant drama. A life where I was not always waiting for the next disaster, the next blow-up, the next emergency, or the next thing I had to somehow get through.

It became kind of an ongoing joke, but I really did want a boring life.

I wanted peace.
I wanted stability.
I wanted calm.

But wanting those things and knowing how to live inside them are not always the same thing. Even today, when I am alone with my own thoughts, it can be hard. It is actually something I still struggle with several times a week, but it used to be daily.

My mind can race. It overthinks. It often searches for problems that may not even be there. And sometimes it almost feels like my brain tries to self-sabotage me subconsciously, like it is looking for chaos, because chaos is what it knows how to manage.

That is one of the frustrating parts of healing.
You can want peace and still feel uncomfortable in it.
You can choose a healthier life and still have a brain that tries to drag you back into old patterns.
You can be safe and still feel like something bad is about to happen.

And when your nervous system is used to the cycle of pain followed by relief, that relief can become confusing.

Temporary calm after chaos is not the same thing as peace. An apology after repeated harm is not the same thing as change. Intensity is not the same thing as love.

That is a lesson that can take a long time to learn. When pain feels familiar, healthy can feel foreign. And when chaos is what your brain recognizes, peace may not feel like peace at first.

Healing means learning how to stop mistaking familiar pain for safety.
It means learning that relief does not have to come after destruction.
It means learning that love does not have to feel like fear.
It means learning that calm does not have to be suspicious.
And it means giving your brain time to understand that peace may feel unfamiliar before it feels safe.

“A good belly laugh shakes your very corpuscles… It releases endorphins, stimulates the body’s painkillers, [and] relaxes tension and makes you feel happier.”
– Shellen Lubin

Finding Relief Without Self-Destruction

This is where healing starts to become more than understanding the pattern. It becomes learning what to do with it. Because once you realize your brain has been searching for relief, you have to start asking where that relief comes from.-

Is it coming from something that helps you? Or is it coming from something that slowly destroys you?

That question can be uncomfortable. Because sometimes the thing that gives the fastest relief is also the thing causing the most damage.

The substance.
The toxic relationship.
The argument.
The impulsive decision.
The overworking.
The isolation.
The people-pleasing.
The self-sabotage.
The return to a place, person, or pattern you already know is not good for you.

Those things may numb the pain for a moment, temporarily. They may create a rush, a distraction, or a sense of control.

But temporary relief is not the same thing as healing. And numbing is not the same thing as peace. Finding relief without self-destruction means learning how to give your brain and body something different.

It may look like taking a walk instead of spiraling alone in your room.
It may look like calling someone safe instead of calling someone familiar but harmful.
It may look like going to a meeting instead of convincing yourself you can handle everything by yourself.
It may look like writing the message in your notes instead of sending it while you are triggered.
It may look like crying instead of pretending you are fine.
It may look like resting instead of proving you can push through everything.
It may look like stepping outside, turning on music, breathing through the feeling, cleaning one small area, taking a shower, eating something, or reminding yourself that you do not have to fix your entire life in one moment.

Those things can sound small. And sometimes, when the pain is big, small things can feel almost pointless. But healing is often built through small choices repeated over time. Every time you choose a healthier form of relief, you are teaching your brain something new.

You are teaching it that pain does not have to lead to destruction.
You are teaching it that discomfort can be survived.
You are teaching it that relief can come from care instead of chaos.
And maybe most importantly, you are teaching yourself that you are worth helping, even when you are hurting.

Over time, those small choices start to matter. They teach your brain that relief does not have to be instant to be real. They teach your nervous system that calm can be safe. And they teach you that you can survive a feeling without obeying it.

“Addiction is just a way of trying to get at something else. Something bigger. Call it transcendence if you want, but it’s like a rat in a maze. We all want the same thing… The thing you want offers relief, but it’s a trap.”
– Tess Callahan

Final Thoughts on Endorphins

Endorphins remind us that the brain is not only searching for happiness. Sometimes it is searching for relief from pain, stress, grief, and emotions that feel too heavy to carry.

And that is not weakness. That is human.

The problem begins when relief only comes from things that keep hurting us – the substance, the chaos, the toxic relationship, the self-sabotage, the over-working, and the numbing.
The familiar pattern we know is not healthy but still feels hard to leave.

Healing does not mean we never need relief. It means we learn healthier ways to find it. Ways that do not require us to destroy ourselves, abandon ourselves, or keep returning to pain just because pain feels familiar.

Endorphins help us understand why relief can feel so powerful.

Next week, I want to talk about the chemical that often explains why we needed relief so badly in the first place: Cortisol, the stress chemical, and wrapping up the series of happy chemicals! It will be the final blog in the “Happy Chemical Series”.

Talk next week! Hope you have a great one!