This week marks 5 years without booze. That’s not a sentence I ever imagined I’d type.
I stopped drinking in my late 30s. When I hit the 2 year mark, I reflected and wrote about my experience. Back then, sobriety still felt novel, like I unlocked a cheat code for life.
Now, 5 years in, it feels less like something I’m doing and more like a part of who I am. It’s a good time to reflect on some of the things I’ve noticed and learned about a life without alcohol.
Being present for life
The mental gymnastics necessary to maintain my craft beer “hobby” took up a lot of space. Leaving booze behind freed up significant bandwidth which helps me to be present.
When I was drinking, I was almost always avoiding something. Craft beer became a low-key escape hatch: numb, distract, escape. I didn’t realize at the time how much of myself I was hiding from. Without booze, I can actually sit with my emotions, feel them, and trust that they’ll pass. And they do pass.
On the “half-life” of negative emotions, Sam Harris says:
If you’re not continually thinking about all the reasons you should be anxious (or angry, etc.), the emotion dissipates very quickly.
I’m still guilty of distraction myself – mindless phone scrolling, lacing up my shoes for a run – but I often catch myself doing it in real time.
Connecting with my emotions has changed my relationships. I no longer default to avoidance. I have hard conversations. I connect more authentically with my partner, friends, and family.
Beyond mindfulness, a booze-free lifestyle has created more space for therapy and self-care, and my baseline quality of life is just better.
I can do hard things, and I’ve certainly had my share of challenges since I stopped drinking in 2020: divorce, family issues, work stress and layoffs, and I’ve moved 5 times. I still remember how booze makes hard things harder, and I’m so glad that I wasn’t white-knuckling my way through these challenges hungover and bursting at the seams with anxiety.
My job today is more complex than ever – and yet, it feels easier. Sobriety gave me clarity, boundaries, resilience, and the gift of never losing a day to hangxiety.
I’ve learned a lot about myself, and have a better grasp on what I want out of life. I feel like I’m living more authentically and not doing things out of habit. I’ve left behind the things that no longer serve me or the person I want to be.
I can spot addictive behaviors forming from a mile away. Social media isn’t a big part of my life these days, and when I do engage (e.g. Bluesky) it’s generally limited and intentional. When I notice mindless usage patterns forming with certain apps on my phone, I’ll delete them before they take up too much space.
Another change I didn’t expect: my body speaks more clearly to me. Without booze hangovers clouding things up, I’m much more aware of food sensitivities, and will sometimes wake up with a “food hangover” after eating certain foods. When my body is trying to tell me something, it’s nice to be able to receive the message, and this was much harder while in the haze of a miserable Sunday morning on the couch.
Finding strength in community
It’s clear to me now how important community is when making a change like this. I was part of a small cohort of craft beer enthusiasts (on a Slack group unrelated to sobriety) who decided to take some time away from drinking. We’d regularly check in with one another, sharing our experiences as we navigated a booze-free life. This was particularly helpful for me when I stopped drinking in the deep pandemic days of 2020.
Looking back on this today, I’m not sure I would have made this a permanent change if not for that community. I also found a lot of inspiration from the “Stop Drinking” Subreddit, which I still check in on from time to time. It reminds me that this used to be really hard, and inspires a lot of gratitude for what I’ve accomplished.
The stigma of sobriety
It’s clear to me now that sobriety carries its own sort of stigma. Drinking is so endemic in our culture that simply not drinking can be controversial — people assume that only a tragedy would prompt such a drastic lifestyle change.
This stigma motivates me to talk/write about my journey, to normalize sobriety in all of its forms. I wrote more about this in “Two Years Without A Hangover”:
I’ve learned that addiction comes in all shapes and sizes. “Rock bottom” doesn’t need to be Hollywood dramatic. I wasn’t getting arrested or driving drunk. I felt successful in my career. But booze was dictating my weekend plans without enhancing them, and my craft beer “hobby” wasn’t sustainable. It was just slowing me down and making me feel bad. “Rock bottom is when you stop digging” is a quote that deeply resonates with me.
You get a variety of reactions from folks when they find out you’re not drinking, and this no longer bothers me. In fact, I’m happy to engage and answer questions when they come up.
Five years later
Half a decade later, and my life looks so different now. I’m divorced, living in a new city, in a new relationship, and most of my friends from 5 years ago have moved away. Except for my job, most major aspects of my life have shifted. Sobriety has allowed me to navigate all of these changes with grace, and my days are no longer haunted with feelings of impending doom.
Removing something from my life that I had little control over is very empowering. With that, my self-esteem and confidence rose, imposter syndrome quieted, and I learned to trust myself. I feel more aligned with the person I want to be, and more in control of how I spend the time I have.
I remember being scared about what life without alcohol might look like… it could be boring, and perhaps sad. How would I spend my Saturday nights? Would I get into knitting?
It turns out that life without booze is anything but boring. In fact, the sad thing would have been to spend a few more decades doing the same thing (drinking) over and over, and I’m so grateful to have broken that cycle.
Looking back, removing booze is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I hope to never lose sight of where I came from, or the gratitude I feel for this choice.
Life is still hard and messy (hedonic adaptation in full effect here), but it’s also so beautiful in ways I didn’t see before. I no longer feel like a passenger on this ride – these days I’m fully present with a front row seat, hands on the wheel for whatever comes my way.
If you’re reading this and considering a change, know this: every day is another chance. It’s never too late.
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