There were times when I abstained from drinking, yet that dry January felt unique. I secluded myself in our basement office, propping my laptop on a heap of laundry, with my coffee mug nestled in a bunch of socks. The bright Zoom class graphic illuminated the dim space: “Tapping for Sobriety.”
Nearly everything I had heard about sobriety fell into two categories: my friends who quit drinking because they could “take it or leave it,” and alcoholics. I definitely belonged to the “I’ll take it, please, especially if it’s red wine” group, yet didn’t perceive myself as someone with a problem. There were no DUIs or alcohol-fueled disputes with my husband, but I recognized a certain hesitance within me regarding any notions of cutting back. It bothered me enough that I signed up for a sober curious women’s group to guide me through dry January (100% guarantee I had consumed a few glasses of wine before clicking purchase) and found myself in my basement, my laptop awkwardly positioned on the deflating laundry pile.
On the slowly sliding screen, the instructor shared that EFT, or “Emotional Freedom Technique,” could soothe and stabilize our nervous systems with gentle taps and pats from our index and middle fingers. I chuckled at the term “pats and taps,” but obediently closed my eyes. I exhaled, mindful of my poor nervous system. I tapped my forehead, trying to block out the sound of my children upstairs squabbling over Bluey. I tapped my upper lip, attempting to disregard the scent of an old kitchen sponge on my fingers. I tapped my underarms (not a favorite), and tapped my collarbone (definitely a favorite). I shut my eyes, striving to tap in the correct sequence, tapping and tapping, futilely trying not to ponder what I was truly thinking: how many days remained in January, how many drinks others might have consumed that month, how many justifications I could conjure to continue or cease drinking. I simply felt done.
So, I reached for my mug. Among the socks lay my glass of red wine — the one I had poured in spite of (or perhaps due to?) attending a sobriety workshop. I poured it for one of the numerous reasons I’d done so most nights: because I was anxious about the event ahead (tonight: tapping), because elements of parenting bored me (Bluey), or because I felt I was giving my all and could use a bit of assistance (always). I took a substantial sip, spilling red wine onto my laptop. I hastily wiped the keyboard with a sock. I felt a sense of relief, to be candid. Yet, I also felt like a failure.
The conversation surrounding sobriety is becoming increasingly loud, yet it feels disconnected from my experience. Tressie McMillan Cottom recently wrote about the rising trend of “performative abstinence” and sobriety as a stand-in for a pristine, perfect lifestyle (NYTimes gift link). Upon reading her op-ed, I couldn’t shake the thought that my experience with quitting drinking was almost the direct opposite of the immaculate white backgrounds and “clean living” rhetoric Cottom astutely critiques. For me, the journey of cessation can only be described as a chaotic mess (understatement).
Now, nearly two and a half years without alcohol, nothing about it has felt performative; it’s been personal and unremarkable. There were no pristine Instagram posts or clean-living manifestos — instead, it involved tapping my collarbones between sips of wine, then attending the next class completely sober. It was a lengthy blend of sober literature (Quit Like a Woman) and audiobooks (This Naked Mind) alongside wine-soaked girlfriends’ trips and therapy sessions, both with a therapist and close friends.
When I share that I don’t drink with others, I often sense they assume I was secretly struggling with alcoholism or that I just randomly decided to quit. Back when I perceived sobriety in just those two categories, I couldn’t see where I fit.
Thus, I wish to present another category — a complicated middle ground. I occasionally recognize it in casual encounters, but it can be elusive. However, it has recently come up in conversations with my girlfriends. Late at night, they would (sometimes tipsily) inquire, “What truly led you to stop drinking?”
Here’s what I tell them: The evidence regarding alcohol’s risks is convincing (NYTimes gift link), and like most of my friends, I was exceeding the recommended maximum of seven drinks per week. Yet, that’s not the reason I quit. It wasn’t the hangovers, or the fact that my kids gifted me wine-related items for my birthday, or the slight shift in my liver numbers. It wasn’t even about how I responded to the question of whether I had a drinking problem. It was the existence of that question itself, and the space it occupied in my mind. I loathed how often I pondered it. I ceased drinking because I didn’t want to squander any more of my inner life.
And when those girlfriends inquire about how I transitioned from the murky middle to not drinking, I inform them it was that women’s group I engaged with out of mere curiosity, and a few sessions with a sober coach that prepared me to genuinely pursue sobriety. It wasn’t instantaneous; it took 10 months from the tapping class, nearly a year of reading, reflecting, drinking, and refraining. I desperately wished casual drinking would work out, but I desired mental clarity even more.
In unfortunate news (just kidding, dear sobers!), quitting, rather than moderating, my drinking turned out to be successful. My mind feels quieter, more authentically mine. It’s not always easy, but, for me, not drinking signifies lesser effort.
My regained mental space feels like the opposite of a shadowy basement, but I can trace its roots back downstairs to that unsuccessful endeavor: me, skeptically tapping my collarbone, fingers smelling like an old kitchen sponge and spilled wine. What seemed so dark and humbling then instills tenderness in me now. I felt like the worst version of myself amid that pile of laundry, yet in hindsight, I wasn’t at all. It was chaotic, but it’s the path that brought me here — to the calmness in my mind, and the tapping of my keyboard. I wonder what changes you’re making, and if they feel chaotic? If so, I’m rooting for you.
Kathleen Donahoe is a writer and poet residing in Seattle. She has explored how her MS diagnosis impacts her parenting and the most unfortunate gift she ever received. She is currently working on her debut novel and warmly invites you to follow her free Substack newsletter, A Little Laugh.
P.S. More posts about drinking, including “my mom was an alcoholic” and “how I redefined my relationship with alcohol.”
(Photo by Sasha Dove/Stocksy.)
# My Journey to Sobriety: Navigating Challenges on the Path to Quitting Alcohol
Alcohol had been a prominent element of my life for several years. What initially began as casual drinking with friends gradually evolved into a reliance I turned to in order to manage stress, anxiety, and personal issues. I never anticipated that quitting alcohol would be one of the most difficult yet rewarding choices I would ever face. My journey towards sobriety encompassed challenges, but overcoming them provided me with a renewed sense of purpose and clarity.
## Acknowledging the Issue
For an extended period, I was in denial about alcohol’s adverse impact on my life. I defended my drinking habits by convincing myself that I was simply enjoying life, that I could stop at any time. However, deep down, I recognized the truth. I started to see the negative consequences—hangovers lasting all day, strained relationships, decreased productivity at work, and a growing void within myself.
The pivotal moment came when I understood that alcohol had evolved from a social pastime to a necessity in my life. I was using it as a means to escape reality instead of savoring life. That was when I realized a change was imperative.
## Confronting the Challenges of Quitting
The decision to quit alcohol was straightforward, but the execution proved to be a different matter. The initial weeks were the most challenging. I faced withdrawal symptoms like anxiety, insomnia, mood swings, and strong cravings. I had to devise methods to navigate these difficulties without resorting to drinking.
### 1. **Managing Cravings**
The urge to drink didn’t vanish overnight. I had to formulate strategies to cope with my cravings. I began substituting alcohol with healthier options such as herbal tea, sparkling water, and fresh juices. Engaging in activities, exercising, and socializing helped divert my attention from the temptation to drink.
### 2. **Overcoming Social Pressure**
One of the most significant hurdles was handling social gatherings where alcohol was available. Friends and colleagues would frequently suggest “just one drink,” unaware of the depth of my struggle. I learned to assertively state my decision and practiced saying no with confidence. Surrounding myself with supportive friends who honored my choice made a considerable difference.
### 3. **Addressing Emotional Triggers**
Alcohol had been my go-to remedy for stress and emotional pain. Without it, I needed to discover healthier coping mechanisms. Therapy, meditation, journaling, and conversations with trusted friends enabled me to process my emotions without leaning on alcohol.
### 4. **Establishing a Support Network**
I came to understand that I couldn’t navigate this journey alone. Seeking support from family, friends, and even online sobriety groups offered me encouragement and motivation. I also participated in support meetings where I encountered others on a similar journey. Their stories fueled my determination to persist.
## The Benefits of Sobriety
Despite the obstacles, the advantages of sobriety far surpassed the struggles. I began to feel a renewed clarity and energy that I hadn’t experienced in years. My relationships improved, my productivity soared, and I felt a greater sense of control over my life.
Some of the most fulfilling aspects of sobriety include:
– **Enhanced Physical Health**: No more hangovers, better sleep, and increased energy.
– **Strengthened Relationships**: I became more engaged during interactions with those I care about.
– **Mental Clarity**: My thoughts were no longer muddled by alcohol, enabling me to make better choices.
– **Self-Discovery**: I gained insights into who I am, my passions, and what truly brings me joy.
## Final Reflections
Quitting alcohol was undoubtedly one of the most challenging yet transformative journeys of my life. It demanded strength, persistence, and a readiness to confront my struggles head-on. Although the road was not smooth, the rewards have been immeasurable.
If you’re contemplating sobriety, understand that you are not alone. Challenges will arise, but with determination, support, and self-care, you can surmount them. Sobriety is not just about relinquishing alcohol—it’s about reclaiming your life and uncovering a healthier, more content version of yourself.
If I could achieve this, so can you.
