I chose to stop drinking regularly two years ago. When I say that, I’m not claiming to be on a sober journey and no, I don’t have a problem with alcohol. I just noticed weekend after weekend of going without it, I was happier, I was sleeping better, and I had some spare change in my pocket too.
It’s no secret; addiction is everywhere. It’s in our families, our neighborhoods, our workplaces. It’s tucked behind closed doors, disguised at happy hours, celebrated in memes, and brushed off as normal. The truth is, we live in a culture where numbing has become the norm and alcohol is one of the most socially accepted ways to do it. We forget the damage it causes, from generational trauma, liver damage, cancer and mental health problems to name a few.
I am what you would have considered a casual drinker anyways. I’d have a glass of wine at dinner with friends, something celebratory for the weekend, or an event that had me thinking it was the only way I was going to get through it. It wasn’t necessarily how much I was drinking, it was why. I had people tell me that it helped them sleep, ok so I tried that but always ended up having the worst sleep of my life. I’d drink at social events only to end up feeling embarrassed and second guessing why I said or did something. Over the past couple of years, I just realized that it wasn’t serving any real purpose.
I started noticing how dependent the world is on substances to cope. Scrolling social media, I’d see jokes about “mommy wine culture” or “it’s 5 o’clock somewhere.” Every event, every gathering, every hard day had alcohol attached to it. It’s in everyone’s vocabulary and yet, no one seemed to be talking about what it was actually doing to us—emotionally, physically, spiritually.
The turning point for me wasn’t one big dramatic moment. It came during one of the most stressful periods of my life. My dad had passed away from cancer, my son was going through one of the roughest patches he’s ever faced, and my anxiety was at an all-time high. The last thing I needed was to drown my emotions in a drink.
At the same time, I was staring down the barrel of perimenopause. After listening to an episode of the Mel Robbins podcast on the subject, the guest, Dr. Mary Claire Haver, said something that stopped me in my tracks: “If you’re choosing to drink, you’re choosing not to sleep. It really is that simple.”
I value my sleep, and honestly, I can’t function without it. I watched my mother suffer through peri- and post-menopause on just a few hours of sleep each night, and I knew I didn’t want that for myself.
Choosing to stop drinking became an act of self-respect for me. A boundary and a way of saying, I want to be fully here for my life, even when it’s hard.
It’s a strange thing, choosing not to drink in a society that revolves around it. People want to know if you had a “problem.” they want a reason even though they don’t deserve an explanation….mine was simple; it just stopped serving me. It no longer aligned with the life I’m trying to build; a life rooted in clarity, peace, and intentional choices.
I don’t judge anyone who still chooses to drink. I know for some people it’s not an issue at all, and for others it’s part of how they connect, celebrate, or relax. This isn’t a “I’m better than you” choice, it’s simply what feels right for me at this moment in my life.
You don’t have to be an alcoholic to say no more. You don’t need a dramatic story to walk away from something that no longer fits. Sometimes, growth looks like quietly stepping away from things everyone else still clings to.
And if you’re even slightly curious about how life might feel without alcohol—you’re allowed to explore that. No labels, no shame, just truth.
I’m still learning how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. And I’m still learning how to celebrate sometimes without numbing. But I’m here. Clear-eyed. Awake. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m actually living my life; not just surviving it.
Have you ever asked yourself if something’s taking more from you than it’s giving? Chances are you are not alone.
The choice is yours, all yours.
The Other Side of Nice 