Sobriety is a deeply personal and often sensitive subject. The decision to embrace sobriety can stem from many reasons—rooted in health, emotional healing, and often a mix of the two. The reasons are unique to each individual and shaped by their lived experiences. When someone chooses sobriety, it can bring up emotions in others who may be struggling with their relationship with alcohol. 

Every story in sobriety is valid. I share my thoughts from my own journey, fully aware that my path may look nothing like yours. My experience does not define sobriety as a whole, nor does it diminish or invalidate yours. 

Data shows alcohol consumption in America is changing. At the beginning of the year, a new health advisory was issued linking alcohol consumption to increased cancer risk. Culturally, our relationship with sobriety is broadening. This is what my sobriety looks like today. 

My Relationship With Alcohol

I am eighteen and at my first house party. It is my senior year in high school. My friends and I hit it off with a group of guys entering their junior year. I stand at the far end of a swampy beer pong table, gingerly holding my red cup. Afraid and liberated, I gulp a lukewarm keg of beer, the first taste of the kind of freedom college would provide. No one was there to monitor or judge except myself. 

I had grown up afraid of drinking alcohol, my parents and long-term boyfriend demonizing it. I rarely saw my parents drink aside from my dad’s nightly beer, a stark departure from a drinking culture I observed in my Irish dance community. There, drinking was synonymous with everything. During trips to Ireland as a preteen in the 90s, I eyed kids my age with a Guinness, sitting at the bar with their parents. 

There are also memories of my grandparents: sipping Miller Light or a buttery chardonnay, eating tortilla chips, and playing cards. Their laughter is synonymous with my happy childhood, a kind of togetherness that is rare and good and worth stopping to marvel at. Today that smell of hops and salty chips brings it all back home.

By the end of my 18th summer, beer signified a different kind of togetherness. A beer in my hand was connection, security, and confidence. It was a key inside places I had yet to access and a gateway to relaxed ease that had alluded me for a lifetime. 

Enter adulthood, and I couldn’t imagine a future without it. 

My relationship with alcohol was murky. At 25, I tipped over the edge, blacking out often in the month leading up to my first marriage. Yet I always had an “off” switch. I never worried I’d forget when enough was enough.

There were times in my 30s when the draw to drink was irresistible. We bought wine in bulk during the pandemic and through our early parenting years. Wine was a daily ritual. 

Much of my social life has revolved around booze. Wine as an activity. Wine as a unifier. As Joe and I fell in love over drinks and didn’t think twice about a weeknight martini, I had friends who decided to go sober. With it came a sense of worry we’d lose contact. Thankfully, no friendships have been lost to sobriety. 

I listened to stories from those who found themselves outside of once close friendships, othered and not offered a seat at the dinner table, hurt by the fragility of a friendship built around booze. As I asked questions about life without alcohol, they opened my eyes to a world that is just as rich in connection and flavor as all the heightened sensations I’ve come to associate with both alcohol and my relationships. 

The beer in hand was no longer a ticket to entry. Sobriety offered a way to access a deeper connection. 

Why I Decided to Quit Drinking 

This, too, is murky. There were health reasons to quit. Then, there were deeper subconscious reasons. When I quit drinking in November, it was unceremonious, unannounced, and driven by something I really didn’t quite understand at the time. I was drinking less than I ever had, so it felt like a nonevent.  

It wasn’t until a few weeks afterward that I understood the motivation came from a desire to strip life back to its necessities. I wanted to opt out of things I didn’t know how to opt out of. To put the external things that made up my life on the back burner for a bit and learn to be with the parts of myself I didn’t like. 

All of this was about making space to experience the full range of human emotions, without a damper or distraction. As I mark a year into my renewed therapy journey, I’m finally making big leaps forward rather than unwinding the past. I can see my patterns and process them clearly. 

I want to give change the best chance possible. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks afterward that I understood the motivation came from a desire to strip life back to its necessities. . . . All of this was about making space to experience the full range of human emotions, without a damper or distraction.

How Not Drinking Has Felt

Many people have a complex relationship with drinking, and I’ve also had to face what not drinking brings up in others. I try to be compassionate. In certain friendships, drinking has historically been a big part of how we socialize, and I’ve worried about not being invited to things. But I like to be sober and still be around alcohol—for me, it doesn’t need to be so black and white.

The ritual of having a drink is the thing I miss the most, one that is fulfilled with an N/A beer or cocktail. The best part has been finding so many great nonalcoholic options. I have been enjoying Athletic Brewing, Ghia, Dry Wit, and Heineken 0.0. 

What the Future Looks Like

I had no end date in mind when I stopped drinking, aside from wanting to get through the holidays sober.

After Christmas, I shared one glass of wine with friends and a few drinks while in Mexico. Stepping into this gray area felt premature. Just one drink brought up a low hum of brain fog and irritability the next day, and it was more than I wanted to experience. In this trial, it was clear not drinking was working better than only “kinda sorta” drinking.

And so that’s why I’ve continued to just not drink. 

I’m realizing this period of sobriety is helping me reconcile my relationship with distraction and avoidance. I don’t envision I’ll abstain from drinking alcohol indefinitely, but when I choose not to drink, I’m strengthening a kind of self-respect I’ve been missing for a while.

Eventually, I’ll decide to have a glass of wine again, and then maybe not drink for a few weeks after that. I’ll most likely find myself identifying with “sometimes” drinking. But I’m not thinking about the future. Whatever happens, I’m letting my body and intuition take the lead. We shall see what lies ahead.

Kate Arends

Kate is the founder of Wit & Delight. She is currently learning how to play tennis and is forever testing the boundaries of her creative muscle. Follow her on Instagram at @witanddelight_.