Ten Days Sober, and It’s Not What I Thought.

I haven’t had a drink in ten days. 

For some people, this is no big deal. A sad, measly number, perhaps.

For others, it might sound like a huge accomplishment–something to be proud of.

For me… it’s the latter.

How it Started

A few weeks ago, I was talking to one of my friends who was just about as regular a drinker as I was. Neither of us drank heavily, but we drank consistently. An afternoon glass of wine to give us energy, a cocktail or two at dinner when we’re out. My average was 1-2 drinks per day. Never enough to get drunk, but just enough of a buzz to make me feel more upbeat or relaxed.

I knew that 1-2 drinks daily was probably a lot. I also knew nothing particularly bad happened when I drank, and if there weren’t really external consequences… why change?

I also work in the wine industry. Everyone in the wine industry drinks just about every day. It’s completely normal to share a regular bottle of wine with your partner at dinner, and to do tastings at 1 o’clock in the afternoon on your day off. And so it became my norm too.

I knew my aforementioned friend was cutting back on alcohol. She had recently read a book—This Naked Mind by Annie Grace—that had completely changed her perspective , and she was starting to make different choices when it came to drinking. The last I’d heard from her, she’d only had two drinks in the last week. I remember giving her a high-five as we celebrated her birthday with spicy margaritas.

But then, when I talked to her more recently, she mentioned offhandedly that she hadn’t had a drink in eleven days. 

“What! Are you serious?!” I said. 

I was astonished–not because I didn’t think she could do it, but because I didn’t think I could. If I put myself in her place, I truly couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to not drink for eleven days straight. Did I even have that kind of willpower? The longest I’d gone was nine days, and that was only because I’d had covid recently. The longest number of consecutive days I’d been sober without having to be terribly sick? 

Four. 

Four days in the last couple years.

Suspicions

The strange thing was, I couldn’t quite call it an addiction. At least, not in the ways I had come to think of addiction. 

I could happily walk past a bar and not want to go inside. I didn’t like drinking to the point of excess, I didn’t enjoy shots or sipping liquor straight, and I rarely drank enough to actually get drunk.  

However, I also couldn’t say I wasn’t addicted. 

The fact that I was suspicious of my ability to go a whole week without a drink (let alone eleven days)... the fact that I started craving bubbly rose at noon as my lack of sleep began to hit me… even the fact that I drank every single day, even if it was only a single drink at a time… alerted me that something was off.

But what to do about it when you’ve been conditioned–by every show on television, by books, by your friends and colleagues and family–that drinking is necessary to live a “fun” life? Getting together with friends inevitably revolves around going to a brewery, a winery, a bar. Parties center around booze, and every vacation, whether going camping or to Hawaii, gives you the opportunity to have mimosas with breakfast, tequila shots with dinner, and unlimited cocktails on the beach because… that’s what you do. You get away by getting down.

But what happens when you get home and your brain has grown so accustomed to that amount of alcohol that you start craving it more? You start justifying drinking earlier in the day, or requiring a daily glass of wine after work to “wine down.” 

Orange Flags

Maybe you get signs and signals, little orange flags that pop in your mind as you notice the amount of brain space taken up during the day thinking about when you can finally just pour yourself a drink. Or how when you’re out with friends, even if you’d initially planned not to drink, you still can’t resist ordering that one delicious looking cocktail once you get to the bar. Or how the minute you think about watching those terrible reality TV shows you love so much, your mind automatically goes to alcohol, and you get irritated at the thought of having to abstain during what’s supposed to be “your time.”

But all these little orange flags aren’t enough to stop you. As I said, there were no consequences (none that I could see, anyway). For me, there were any number of reasons to drink on any given day, and never a reason not to. 

So I continued drinking.

Until I found out that alcohol–any alcohol, whether it be in the form of beer, wine, or liquor–is a carcinogen. 

Until I found out that having just three alcoholic drinks per week (compared to those who drink none) increases a woman’s chance of getting breast cancer by 15%. 

Until I found out that our livers can only process 9ml of alcohol per hour… meaning it takes 3 hours to process a single glass of wine. 

In the before times, I noticed how my brain was so slow the following day after drinking. I noticed how uncomfortable my body felt, how dehydrated I was, how much clarity I lacked, and how frustrated I felt that, once again, I had allowed alcohol to do this to me. 

“Alcohol is literal poison,” I would say. And then the next day be back at it again. 

If that doesn’t sound like an addiction, I don’t know what does. 

It Wasn’t About “Better” Choices. Just Different Ones.

I still wouldn’t classify myself as an alcoholic, but the fact of the matter is that alcohol is addicting. The more you have, the more you crave. Period. (There’s neuroscience to back this up, but I won’t go into it here.)

I’m not saying I’ve gone entirely sober. But I am saying I’ve started to make decisions for myself that affect my life for the better as a whole.

I’ve been doing that kind of thing–making decisions that affect my life for the better–for years. I cut out caffeine (for the most part) because it affected my anxiety. I started therapy because I was depressed. I brought reading back into my life because nonfiction is inspiring and imaginative fiction igniting. I went vegan because I wanted my values to align with my actions. I cut drastically down on my waste because I care about our planet. I started journaling and writing letters to different versions of my past self because I wanted to be healed and be whole. I started setting boundaries in my life because the suffering endured without them was too much to bear. 

If I was willing to change all these other things in order to help my body feel better, my brain feel clearer, my spirit feel lighter; if I was willing to change all this in order to live the most authentic life I could… why resist doing so with alcohol? I knew it was a problem. I knew it was hindering my growth. So why not stop?

Because for me, the risk of stopping was too great. What if I missed out? What if I didn’t have as much fun? What if my partner (who also loves wine) and I ran out of things to do on dates because this hobby that had been a big part of our relationship was suddenly inaccessible? 

What if, what if, what if…

It was only through actually experiencing the things listed above sans alcohol that I was able to prove to myself that the risk wasn’t the reality. 

I recently celebrated one of my best friend’s 30th birthdays (an all-day affair). I didn’t have a single drink, and had an absolute blast. I felt clear and sharp the whole time. I could actually feel all my emotions as they were, and not as amplifications due to the alcohol. I was able to engage the way I wanted to, and drive home feeling alert and lighter. I could literally feel my body working effectively, and ho…ly… shit… was it amazing.

Every day I have the opportunity to drink, and every day I choose something else. I order a mocktail. I drink pina colada seltzer waters and ABV-free beer. I make homemade virgin daiquiris with dinner, and find myself having an extra cup of (decaf) coffee in the afternoon.

I also snack. (I love me some potato chips.) 

I’m not here to tell anyone to stop drinking, or to preach about the harms of alcohol. 

I’m here to share my story, because 10 days being sober has felt like some of the best days of my body’s adult life. This has been a huge part of my journey. Every day I wake up, count the days since I had my last drink, and proudly tell the number to my partner, who (luckily) smiles and supports me and joins me in my mocktail mission. 

I’m proud of myself for the step I made. And it hasn’t been anywhere as difficult as I’d imagined. I started this book (the same one my friend had read), and now halfway through, I can’t imagine going back to how I used to live. I don’t know what kind of magic author Annie Grace has, but hot damn is it effective.

Will I still have a drink here or there in the future? Most likely. But I’ll do it much more intentionally, and in a way that supports how I want to live. Not infringes upon it.

Right now, it feels like I’m one step closer to true and ultimate freedom. I know I’ve still got many steps to go, but hey… progress is progress. 

And Each Success, No Matter How Big or Small, Deserves to Be Celebrated.

So here I am. Celebrating.

What has been a success you’ve had recently that may seem small to others, but is actually huge for you?