Margaret (using a pseudonym) has been among my most trusted relatives since elementary school. She was lively and naturally outgoing, the type of individual who could enter a space and depart with fresh connections. In contrast, her other companion was reserved and required some time to become comfortable, taking a moment to gauge the atmosphere before becoming part of the group.
As they aged, their distinctions became more pronounced. Margaret resided at the periphery. She sought out excitement, engaged in dangers that grown-ups cautioned against, and seldom paused. There was constant activity—commotion, giggles, extended hours, packed areas. Moments of silence made her uneasy. Even now, tranquility causes her discomfort, nearly restlessness. Yet she remains happy, captivating, yet incapable of remaining motionless for too long. Silence seemed dull, without a rush of hormones, without fervor.
For many years, I believed she was simply bold. However, over time, and through my professional experiences, I started questioning things, particularly as I noticed this recurring trend nearby. Could it be that this had nothing to do with character? What if tranquility did not equate to security?
For certain individuals, quietude does not equate to tranquility; rather, it feels like vulnerability. Quiet moments provide room for thoughts, recollections, and physical feelings that the body has come to evade. If one develops within settings marked by uncertainty, sorrow, emotional inconsistency, or hidden suffering, the nervous system adjusts accordingly. Serenity can then become strange, at times even alarming.
Therefore, the body occupies the quiet with sounds and individuals, with gatherings, with alcoholic drinks and chemicals – whatever prevents the mind from calming down.
Today in Rwanda, drinking habits—particularly among younger individuals—are rising significantly. Taverns are more crowded than ever. Fridays start sooner and extend well into the night. Gatherings turn into places where people display their status, avoid emotions, or simply attempt to experience some form of feeling. Consuming alcohol has evolved into a bonding element, a way to unwind, an occasion for joy, and a means of escaping reality. Declining to drink may lead to being left out socially, as pubs and events represent one of the limited available meeting spots. Alcohol serves as a temporary stopper for embarrassment, societal pressures, and the anxiety of not keeping up with others.
For some individuals, consuming alcohol isn't an act of defiance; rather, it marks their entry into maturity. For others, it's merely about enjoyment. It provides satisfaction. It can be enjoyable. Any truthful discussion must also acknowledge this aspect.
This is often where discussions regarding alcohol and drug usage end prematurely. These talks tend to focus on cautions, criticism, and perceived ethical shortcomings, overlooking the more profound inquiry into what occurs within an individual when all noise fades away. Adolescents do not consume drinks merely because they are unaware of the dangers involved.
However, aside from societal factors, it is important to comprehend how alcohol affects the body and brain.
Alcohol acts rapidly on the nervous system. As soon as someone consumes it, it reduces the speed of messages traveling between the brain and the body. It dampens regions involved in decision-making, self-control, and managing emotions, while boosting the production of dopamine — a substance associated with happiness and satisfaction. That’s why alcohol often makes individuals feel more relaxed, bold, sociable, or less tense at first.
However, from a physiological perspective, alcohol does not soothe the body; instead, it induces drowsiness and reduces inhibition.
With continued consumption, alcohol impairs emotional control and hinders learning effective ways to calm oneself, resulting in emotions becoming stronger instead of being eased. Although it may assist in falling asleep quicker, it disturbs deep, healing sleep. Once the impact diminishes, emotional strength decreases, stress levels increase, and symptoms like irritability, worry, sadness, or emotional detachment typically emerge.
Starting with casual alcohol consumption may gradually lead to emotional reliance, not due to personal weakness, but because the body has adapted to a specific routine.
Yet the void that alcohol appears to fill doesn’t vanish. It lingers. It only delays the time when we must pay attention to our nervous system. This isn't about identifying, criticizing, or idealizing pain. It’s about comprehending behavior prior to passing judgment on it. After all, if I'm using a cane to walk, you can't take it from me and demand I sprint; you should first provide an alternative.
To older generations, this viewpoint might seem strange or perhaps excessive. They were raised with limited options, greater duties, and minimal opportunities to discuss feelings. Surviving meant relying on perseverance, quietness, and resilience. When alcohol was consumed, it typically had ties to work, tradition, or occasional relief rather than being an ongoing means of avoidance. However, younger individuals now face distinct challenges: swift changes, financial instability, online comparisons, and heightened emotional awareness without proper guidance to manage these experiences. This isn’t a sign of personal weakness but rather a shift in circumstances. Although their ways of dealing could appear different, the fundamental needs—of enduring hardship, feeling connected, and easing suffering—are unchanged.
I remember reading once that a completely filled cup needs a firm grip. Once your cup is full, you can’t rush around like it’s empty. Many of us are rushing through life with cups that are already spilling over—emotions left unspoken, sorrow ignored, stress accepted as normal. Whether through drinking, social events, or never-ending distractions, we keep the overflow hidden.
Yet the reality is, none of the things we pursue genuinely keep us company. Not the joy. Not even the sense of detachment. For when all noise fades away, when the effects of drink subside and the space becomes empty, we're alone with our thoughts. And that can be frightening.
Therefore, what actions should we take? Recovery—although gradual and not as intense—is achieved by guiding the body toward fresh sensations of security: relaxation free from shame, relationships devoid of pressure to perform, and tranquility that does not lead to emotional detachment.
Perhaps, for individuals such as Margaret, or similar to many of us, the most courageous act we will ever undertake is not about making a lot of noise, nor taking risks, nor constant activity. It’s choosing not to immediately top up our drink. Engaging in a discussion where we express truthfully rather than pretending to be strong. An instant when we remain alone with our thoughts, free from distractions or chemicals that dull our emotions.
It is gradually understanding that tranquility can transform into a sanctuary.
Psychiatric nurse Queen Nelly Uwase delves into the emotional terrains that are seldom discussed.
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Tagged: Rwanda, Central Africa, East Africa
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