Fly Me to the Moon!
A friend in another state met a man named Sean at a block party. They took one look at each other and knew. When they spoke it got even better, or worse. Each was married, with grown children. And he lived in the house directly across the street from hers. This made him the most forbidden man in the world, the most dangerous, the most exciting. When he called and when she thought of him, she was flooded with a feeling she had never known before and which she could scarcely describe. “A sledgehammer,” she said. “But in a good way.”
“You mean lust?” I suggested.
She was scornful. “No, much more powerful than that!”
As their relationship developed, and as they carefully managed to meet, that feeling lessened somewhat but never died. My friend has had a rich romantic life, but this sensation was unique, compelling, overwhelming.
“I think it’s terror,” I said.
“It is,” she agreed. “At any moment our lives could come tumbling down. At any moment, we could be discovered.”
She did not sound very anxious. I asked, “Do you really like this guy or do you just like that feeling? I mean, if you get off on danger, you could take up skydiving!”
“This is better,” she insisted, “Because it’s mixed up with love.”
“Perhaps it isn’t love,” I said. “Perhaps it’s just adrenaline.”
For some reason, I get a strange satisfaction contemplating how our chemicals affect our emotions and vice versa. Perhaps I feel reducing emotions to hormones or neurotransmitters absolves one from succumbing to them.
I used to wonder how people could be compulsive gamblers. Surely everybody knows that the house eventually wins, yet gamblers flock to casinos and lose fortunes at blackjack and roulette. Aren’t they scared? Now I think, of course they’re scared! They’re endangering their fortunes and themselves. It’s exciting. The danger isn’t a bug, it’s a feature.
Danger, or surviving danger, is part of the lure of rock-climbing, back country skiing, white-water rafting, kite-surfing, car-racing, even obsessive love. “He might never call again and then I’d simply die!”
Danger stimulates the production of adrenaline. When there’s a threat, the hypothalamus in the brain signals the adrenal glands, which are located just above the kidneys, to get busy. That “gut feeling”? Sometimes it’s just adrenaline!
Adrenaline is part of the fight or flight response. It makes the heart beat faster and heightens the senses. It causes glucose to be released into the bloodstream, preparing one for physical action. The heightened sense of alertness and energy make one feel powerful and confident.
Adrenaline is often accompanied by the release of endorphins, producing feelings of euphoria. Some individuals (such as my friend, who also jumps horses) have higher levels of sensation-seeking and enjoy activities that produce adrenaline. The thrill of danger is part of the “adrenaline rush.” Adrenaline activates the nucleus accumbens, a core region involved in reward processing. Adrenalistas (if I may coin the word) seek experiences that trigger a dramatic and blissful response.
Considering the pleasure it can bring, I began wondering about using adrenaline, um, recreationally. Seeking a shortcut to pleasure, I began hoping one could inject it.
And then I learned something that surprised me. Adrenaline is just another name for epinephrine, which is commonly injected for medical purposes. It’s what’s in an EpiPen, for allergy attacks. Higher doses are used in emergency rooms for cardiac arrest, for asthma attacks, and for septic shock. In this setting, nobody mentions euphoria.
Perhaps joy comes from within and only the adrenaline we produce in our own bodies has the power to make us euphoric. I love that idea.
Meanwhile, my friend and Sean continue to meet clandestinely. She remains terrified and thrilled.
In The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde writes, “the very essence of romance is uncertainty.” He adds, “If I ever get married l’ll try to forget the fact.” I am one of those people who enjoyed romance in marriage, but I understand the appeal of romantic uncertainty.
Adrenalistas... love this word Cathy... (o: