Today marks six months alcohol-free not because I hit a breaking point or because of a dramatic moment of clarity. It simply unfolded. Quietly. Almost without my noticing.
There was no milestone, no resolution. Just a subtle shift. A choosing of myself.
In the past, I’ve taken breaks from drinking — a Dry July here, a year and a half there. But this time feels different. This time, I’m not counting the days. I’m paying attention to the space those days are offering me.
A Realisation, Not a Rock Bottom
My reasons for taking a break are layered. A big one? My partner stopped drinking. One evening, I found myself alone on the couch, wine in hand, and suddenly, something in me felt… off. Not guilty. Just disconnected. It was like I caught a glimpse of myself from the outside and didn’t quite recognise what I saw.
The lockdowns changed many of our rhythms. For me, it slowly introduced a quiet dependency. A glass became routine. Having wine in the house became a comfort. And then, one day, it didn’t feel comforting anymore.
It felt heavy.
My Story with Drinking
I’ve had wonderful times with a drink in hand. I’ve laughed until my sides hurt. I’ve worked in bars, celebrated deeply, danced late and into the early. But there’s also always been a thread of anxiety woven through those memories. The morning after. The wondering. The self-checking.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve realised alcohol often magnified the emotions I already carried, insecurity, pressure, the need to perform or prove something. Especially in my work, where drinking with clients was practically written into the role. It became less about enjoyment and more about expectation.
But something began to shift.
Wellness as a Way In
What surprised me most during this pause wasn’t what I gave up — but what I gained.
I sleep deeply. I rise feeling steady.
I create more. I think more clearly.
I’ve reclaimed time and space.
But most importantly, I’ve rediscovered a sense of authenticity.
I no longer need a glass in my hand to soften the edges of social moments. I’ve learned how to meet people — and myself — without a filter. That has been the most quietly radical thing of all.
Conversations feel richer.
Friendships feel deeper.
I feel more present in my life.
And still, I don’t call myself “sober.” This might be a temporary break or it might stretch on. I’m not here to define it. Only to honor it.
A New Kind of Social Ritual
Not drinking has invited a different rhythm into my life — one of morning coffees instead of late-night drinks. Learning instead of numbing. Creation over consumption.
This space has sparked conversations I didn’t expect, business ideas, writing projects, and a podcast seed I’m quietly watering. I’ve learned that not drinking doesn’t mean losing connection — it’s actually brought me closer to the people who meet me where I truly am.
And yes, there are awkward moments. People ask. People assume. But that’s their story, not mine. I’ve found that a mocktail can soften their discomfort — not for my sake, but to ease the tension in the room. Sometimes, that small gesture helps others stay with their own discomfort without needing to project it onto you.
Change That Comes From Listening
Like my shift toward plant-based eating, this change didn’t come from force — it came from noticing. Noticing how something made me feel. And honoring that.
When I moved away from dairy and gluten, my body made it clear with its reactions. Alcohol was trickier, the response is slower, the narrative more tangled with celebration, culture, and connection. But when I tune in, I hear the same thing: This isn’t serving me right now.
And so, I listen.
Commitment, Not Restriction
What I’ve learned this time around is that meaningful change doesn’t come from counting days or patting myself on the back for abstaining. It comes from seeing the space created in its absence.
Before, I measured my progress in time.
Now, I measure it in clarity. In energy. In peace.
The commitment isn’t to a rule — it’s to myself.
The World We Work In
In my professional world, alcohol is often a silent expectation. “Wine time” was once a ritual — something I leaned on to take the edge off. But now, I have other ways. Healthier ones.
It’s curious how we accept pharmaceutical coping mechanisms but quietly judge those who step away from alcohol. They are both forms of managing, but only one is celebrated at the dinner table.
I think it’s time we stopped pretending they’re so different.
What Do You Want to Choose?
This isn’t a call to go sober. I’m not here to convince. I’m simply reflecting on how this pause — this recalibration — has supported my overall wellness in ways I didn’t expect.
What we consume — food, drink, media, relationships, all impacts our wellbeing. Sometimes, it’s only in stepping away that we can truly see the role something was playing.
If you're feeling the pull to reevaluate alcohol or anything else, know that you’re allowed to be curious. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose differently.
This six-month pause is one of the kindest things I’ve done for myself. Not because I had to — but because I wanted to.
What is one kind thing you can do for yourself this season?
