Turning Point

On a cold evening, getting under a heavy blanket requires a little construction.

We pull it over our knees, tuck the edge beneath our feet, and gather the remaining fabric around our shoulders. A gap beside the hip lets in cold air. That gets sealed too. Reaching for anything now would mean dismantling the whole arrangement.

For a while, it is perfect. Our toes warm up. Our shoulders loosen. The weight settles comfortably across our lap.

Then a foot comes out.

Just one, slipped over the edge. The cool air feels good against the sole. A little later, we uncover an arm, then push the blanket down to our waist. Eventually, most of it lies in a heap beside us.

We spent several minutes making sure the cold could not get in. Now we are lifting the edge to let some through.

What have you wanted more of, then wanted less?

In 2014, twenty volunteers spent an hour pedalling stationary bicycles. Afterwards, they cooled down for another hour. Their temperature fell, but they remained thirsty.

Then they entered a brain scanner and received water in five-millilitre portions, about a teaspoon at a time. They rated how pleasant each drink felt. While thirsty, they generally enjoyed it.

The researchers then took them out of the scanner and let them drink freely. They also encouraged them to continue beyond satisfaction, as far as comfortably tolerable.

Back inside, the volunteers received the same small portions. This time, drinking the water felt unpleasant. The comparison followed the same people through two bodily states. Water that had been welcome became something they had to keep swallowing for the experiment.

That detail matters. The researchers deliberately pushed past satisfaction. Their finding does not mean every ordinary drink ends in disgust. It demonstrates how far the response can reverse when drinking continues after thirst has subsided.

Physiologist Michel Cabanac called this dependence on internal state alliesthesia. A sensation acquires part of its pleasantness from what the body needs when it arrives. Warmth, for example, has a different appeal when we are cold than when we are overheated.

Cabanac proposed that pleasure helps regulate behaviour. Something useful becomes attractive, encouraging us to seek it. As our condition changes, its appeal can diminish or reverse. The sensation helps guide both approaching and stopping. Pleasure helps us recognise what we need, and when we have had enough.

***

Pleasantness can change even when the sensation remains just as distinct. In a small thermal experiment, four men rated warmth and coolness similarly across different internal body temperatures. Their enjoyment changed considerably. They could recognise the same warmth while finding it welcome in one condition and unpleasant in another.

Continuing can also require more effort. In a separate experiment, after drinking beyond satisfaction, participants found swallowing harder, even when given sweetened water. The increased effort appeared with both liquids. Making the drink sweet did not remove the difficulty of taking in more once they had already had too much.

The first sip makes a tempting standard for every sip that follows. We can keep drinking with that earlier pleasure in mind, although each mouthful changes the conditions that produced it.

A hot bath offers the same small contradiction. We sink into the warmth, then eventually want to get out. Staying longer cannot preserve the relief of getting in. The warmth has already changed how we feel.

This gives us a different way to judge the ending. A pleasure can fade because it has helped satisfy the need that made it possible. Its disappearance can belong to a successful experience.

By the time we have had enough, we may still remember how good the beginning felt. Another sip does not bring it back. We are no longer as thirsty. Relief has an urgent problem to answer. Satisfaction leaves us with less reason to keep doing the thing.

We can mistake the end of enjoyment for disappointment. Yet the drink quenched our thirst. The bath warmed us. Wanting more would be a strange way to measure whether we had enough.

We can step out of the bath while the water is still warm.

^{This is a space for exploration and reflection, not medical, psychological, or therapeutic advice. Each reader’s situation is unique and deserves the right kind of support. If you are struggling or in crisis, please contact a licensed mental health professional. This edition contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, we may earn from qualifying purchases at no additional cost to you.}