From Road Rage to Radical Acceptance: Scarcity Mindset
Hey folks! It’s Sobriety House Story Time! In celebration of May being Mental Health Awareness Month, I bestow upon you the following completely fictional tale of woe about a therapist that is absolutely not me. Also, the story below in no way endorses the opinions, beliefs or driving behaviors of Sobriety House, it’s affiliates, Denver Public Library, or Fiat Chrysler Automobiles.
A man, let’s call him Frank, is driving home after a long day of therapy sessions, reflecting on clients, pondering existential questions like Did I remember to eat lunch? and How is it possible to say "mm-hmm" 37 times in a row and still sound authentic?
Suddenly, a man in a silver Jeep Wrangler cuts Frank off. No signal. No wave. Just straight-up vehicular rudeness. Oh, and he was TALKING ON HIS PHONE! Fueled by righteous indignation (and low blood sugar), I…or, um, Frank…gave him a very professional passive-aggressive honk-flip combo.
Cue Shankar Vedantam’s voice on the Hidden Brain podcast, which just so happened to be playing: “Our brains, when under threat, narrow their focus. We develop tunnel vision. We miss important information around us.” As the Jeep Wrangler brake-checked Frank (on the HIGHWAY) and responded with similar methods of communication, Frank paused to consider that the driver in front of him wasn’t the issue.
Tunnel Vision: The Addict’s BFF (but not in a good way)
Tunnel vision is when the brain gets hyper-focused on one thing and can’t zoom out. Hidden Brain guest Eldar Shafir explained that “when you feel that something important is missing in your life, your brain start to focus on that missing thing. When you’re really desperate for that something, you focus on it so obsessively that there isn’t room for anything else.” It’s great for threading a needle or surviving in a blizzard. Not so great when the “one thing” is the thought “I need a drink or I’ll explode” or “I have to fix this person to feel OK about myself.”
In addiction, tunnel vision often sounds like:
“I just need to get through today.”
“If I don’t use, I can’t cope.”
“There’s no other option.”
It reduces your world to a an either/or binary: comfort vs. pain, high vs. crash, connection vs. rejection. There’s no third way. No curiosity. Just survival mode.
Scarcity Mindset: The Brain’s Internal Dramatist
Now layer on the scarcity mindset. This is the belief that there’s never enough—time, money, love, attention, relief. In addiction recovery, it shows up as:
“If I don’t take this now, I’ll never get another chance.”
“There’s not enough support for me.”
“I’m not enough.”
As Vedantam notes in Hidden Brain, scarcity “captures the mind.” It reduces cognitive flexibility and problem-solving ability. It’s the same reason people living in poverty might take out a payday loan—they’re not stupid; they’re cornered. The brain stops evaluating wisely and starts reacting desperately.
So what happens when we mix tunnel vision + scarcity? A mental funnel that leads straight to the familiar: using, numbing, avoiding, chasing.
Narrative Therapy: The Plot Twist You Didn’t Know You Needed
There are so many approaches in psychotherapy to this dilemma, but I err on the path of story-telling. Narrative therapy offers a radically curious way out of this mess. Instead of asking “What’s wrong with you?” it asks, “What story are you living in right now?”
Addiction often tells a narrow, black-and-white story:
“I’m weak.”
“I always screw up.”
“If I feel this feeling, I’ll die.”
Narrative therapy invites people to name the problem as separate from themselves. So instead of “I am an addict,” we might say, “Addiction has been showing up lately and trying to dominate the storyline.”
Suddenly, there’s space. Perspective. Dialogue. You can begin to ask:
“When has this story not been true?”
“What are other stories about me that also deserve airtime?”
“What values do I want to live into, even when addiction is screaming?”
It’s a shift from tunnel vision to panoramic lens.
How to Move Outside the Tunnel (Without Needing a Tow Truck)
1. Get Curious (Even When You’re Pissed Off in Traffic)
Instead of “Why am I like this?” try “Huh. What just happened there?”
Curiosity cracks open the tunnel. Shame tightens it.
2. Externalize the Problem
Give the scarcity mindset a name: “Scarcity Steve” or “Tunnel Tina.” Talk to it. Ask it what it’s afraid of. Thank it for trying to protect you. Then set a boundary.
3. Build Abundance Awareness
Start noticing abundance in tiny, unsexy ways:
“There’s enough coffee for both me and my coworker.”
“I have five whole minutes to breathe before this meeting.”
“I’m allowed to ask for help and not owe anyone anything.”
4. Expand Your Storyline
Ask yourself: “What would the next chapter look like if scarcity wasn’t writing it?” Write it down. Share it with your therapist or your cat or your group.
5. Listen to Smarter People Than Me
Check out the Hidden Brain episode on scarcity. It's a good one. Probably won’t cure your road rage, but it might help you channel it more constructively (e.g., writing this blog instead of flipping the bird).
Final Thoughts from the (Slightly Less Enraged) Driver’s Seat
Addiction doesn’t grow in a vacuum—it thrives in psychological environments that are rigid, narrow, and lacking oxygen. Tunnel vision and scarcity mindset create exactly that.
The antidote isn’t just willpower. It’s story power. It's noticing, naming, and gently disrupting the narratives that say “there’s not enough” or “I am not enough.”
So next time you feel your brain tightening into a tiny funnel (or you’re about to curse out a Civic), pause. Breathe. Ask: “What story am I in right now?” And better yet: “Do I want to keep telling it?”
Sources & Suggested Listening:
Vedantam, S. (Host). (n.d.). Hidden Brain [Podcast]. NPR. https://hiddenbrain.org
White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends. Norton & Company.
Mullainathan, S., & Shafir, E. (2013). Scarcity: Why Having Too Little Means So Much. Times Books.
Are you stuck in the tunnel vision of active addiction? Want help rewriting your story? We at Sobriety House are here for it. Give our admissions line a call at (720) 381-4337 or email us at admissions@sobrietyhouse.org. And no, we won’t judge you for yelling at a Civic during your journey towards sobriety. We’ve all been there. At least Frank has.
Josh Wilde, LAC, LSW