Mentally Dehydrated

By guest Karen Giesbrecht*

A client in my nutrition class in an addictions treatment program used the phrase mentally dehydrated the other day. This facility is in the roughest and least understood neighborhood in Vancouver. The session was in the detox unit, the first and hardest week of the recovery journey. Fatigue and pain – both physical and emotional – hit hard, and the substances these struggling individuals had been using to numb their bodies (and hearts) are no longer available. Add to that the loss of community and a body out of its preferred rhythms, undernourished and dehydrated.

After learning a little about everyone in the room – at least their name and something nutrition-related they are curious about – I start these sessions by leading the group through a body scan. We think about how our body, our head, and our gut feel. Are we thirsty? Are we tired? What mood are we in? Then we talk about how our health, especially as it is connected with food, is impacted by our long-term eating patterns, but in recovery, we use the phrase just for today. One just has to get through the next few hours. And then the next few hours after that. There will come a time for longer-term planning, but that is overwhelming when one’s resilience is so low.

We then explore some of the acute connections between how these individuals are coping at that moment and what they ate (or did not eat) that day. We usually start by talking about hydration, and how headaches, sluggishness, and muscle cramps mean there are a few things out of balance in one’s body, but dehydration makes any symptoms worse. We address the allure of sweet, caffeinated beverages, and misconceptions about how much one should drink – enough to not feel thirsty, not so much that having to use the bathroom frequently disrupts daily activities.

That segues into sleep, and how fatigue is natural in any season of stress. Almost everyone who comes to this unit needs to catch up on rest, and food can help or hinder that. We cannot sleep well when hungry. We also sleep better when we have not eaten to the point of feeling stuffed. This usually leads to another chance to talk about sugar and caffeine – why we crave them and what too much of these (legal) stimulants do to us.  

From there, we address other questions that come up, or if there is still energy in the group, I steer the conversation towards the connection between what we eat and our emotions. Any acute, or chronic and compounding stresses are difficult – relational conflict, starting a new job, living through a pandemic, or detoxing. How one eats will not fix hard emotions, but can make them easier (or harder) to cope with. Even if eating better increases our capacity by five percent, that can be enough to get us through whatever we have to face.  

It was at this point in the group conversation that one of the clients said reflectively, “I think I’m mentally dehydrated.” Everyone in the room, myself included, looked at him and nodded. We could all identify.  

I told this snippet of a story to a few friends, as it helps to process out loud what I learn from my brave clients. My friends laughed, then sobered up, knowing they should not laugh at someone in such a rough place. They then all commented on how they do not exactly know what it means to be mentally dehydrated, but they get it. We are all feeling it.  

So how do we quench mental dehydration? The answer is going to be different for all of us. We are all wired differently. We are from different cultures, in different places in our Faith, and we carry different heartaches. But we do have some common needs. We cannot push our bodies to extremes. We need safety and connection. We need to serve and love others.  

We may not realize it, but our bodies are well on the way to being dehydrated when we begin to feel thirsty. Our bodies (and spirits) thrive on regular rhythms of nourishment, rest, activity, and kinship. My clients can usually identify with the cost of extreme states of hunger, dehydration, fatigue, and isolation. I imagine you, readers, can as well.

So, drink up, friends. Figure out what your living water is and visit that well often. Eat your vegetables, share a pot of tea with a friend, bring lemonade to protesters and front-line workers, learn from unlikely teachers, and share stories of hope. We have much work to do to get through this season and build up what is broken.   

For he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. Psalm 107:9

Blessings

*Karen is a registered dietitian with a particular interest in mental health, strong communities, good stories, and real food. She wove all these together in Happy Colon, Happy Soul: An Exploration of Why and How we Share Food (Wipf & Stock, 2019). At home in Vancouver, Canada, Karen takes great delight in sharing good meals with her family, friends, and those in her community who know hunger. www.karengiesbrecht.com