soberish: a journey into a life without alcohol

hi yall. I’ve been thinking about writing about this for a while now.

I truly do not know when I stopped drinking alcohol, but of course now that I say that I want to pinpoint a timeframe. Its something I decided at many points with intention but not enough to declare it outwardly. Until now.

I feel like I need to tell the story of my ancestry + alcohol to really give the full picture here. I come from a family of alcoholics, in a region of the country where it is most celebrated to be functional alcoholics (yey for the south!), and never get help. Alcohol is a part of every cultural event, every weekend, every night after work. Tailgating is a way of life. Even at 9 am before Keeneland (thats a horse racing venue for yall who dont know). Basketball games. Fall festivals. After church on Sundays. Brunches. Oktoberfest. Bengals games. Reds opening day. If you are getting together with another human, theres probably drinking involved. It was integral to growing up in Kentucky, and in Cincinnati where I spent the first 27 years of my life cumulatively.

One of my best friends showed up to my house with a bottle of jack daniels in her purse, drunk in my parents basement at a get-together I had in 8th grade. At that point in life I was very sheltered, and completely mortified. After that night I gave her an ultimatum, and our friendship quickly fizzled out from there. It was the first of many boundaries I tried (and failed) to place around alcohol, and many many friends with drinking problems.

Despite my parents strict rules, I started drinking sophomore year of high school, sneaking a bud light with 2 friends ‘camping’ in the backyard. It was exciting, and very innocent then. I snuck alcohol out of my parents liquor cabinet, filling what I’d taken with water (sorry mom). I remember my first blackout that next summer, 5 shots of strawberry smirnoff on an empty stomach and I was OUT. That was one of the worst experiences, and I was mortified. Being out of control like that, and not remembering what I had done, it was my nightmare. But it also didn’t stop me from continuing to drink through high school, however never again to that level.

In college things kicked up a notch. I loved college so so much. The freedom, the new people, and all the adventures. My sophomore year of college my closest relative died by suicide, and my depression and suicidal ideation went into overdrive. I didn’t talk to anyone about it, not even a therapist, and used drinking to mask the well of pain and sadness I was living in. I grew up with many stories about not talking about our problems, and using alcohol as a coping mechanism, so this felt like the way things were done, and I didn’t question it at that time.

I recall so many fond memories drinking in college. Many nights I would go out dancing completely sober, but people tended to assume I was on drugs. I actually just really loved dancing. My relationship was a complicated dance between complete control and completely letting go. Our trick in college was to take advil before drinking so it hit your bloodstream faster, thus requiring buying less alcohol. And then shots with gatorade. Horrifying to think about now, but thats what we did. There were a handful of blackout nights through college and many many bad decisions. The drinking became a way to cope. With anxiety, with uncomfortable feelings, and a way to magic my way into intimacy + sexual adventures with emotionally unavailable boys I barely knew. That relationship continued into post college life, searching for love in all the wrong places until I got into my first abusive relationship at 22.

My depression came back, I didn’t really want to be alive anymore, but I also wasn’t suicidal. I didn’t have the energy to do anything but survive. We lived together, and he quickly controlled every aspect of my life. And things got very scary when he drank. I attempted to break up with him several times, but I’d always forgive him and let him back in. Most of my friends outside of work were cut off, and I was completely lost. It got worse when I got fired at the bar/restaurant we both worked at. He stole our puppy while I was sleeping. Everyone at work knew what was going on, but the GM chose to let me go instead of deal with him. Most of my work friends acted like nothing had happened. It was devastating on so many levels, and I had lost everything.

Jess came into my life a year into this period of my life, fresh from Reno with plenty of their own baggage around drinking. I rediscovered what being alive felt like with Jess. It was a magical mess, beautiful and complicated. After the first night staying with Jess, I broke up with my abuser. He moved out, and Jess moved in. I finally went to therapy. I got a new job, started paying down my debts and life began to open up to me again. I decided to go to grad school in mental health counseling in 2014. And this opened my eyes to a major truth: my dad had a drinking problem. Its been a long journey of attempting to control his behavior, feelings of embarrassment, anger, frustration, a year of not speaking to him, but eventually I had to accept that he will never stop drinking.

Jess’ issues took center stage for many years, DJing in nightlife. Every night I would wait up until they got home at 3 am, worried sick that they’d be drinking and driving. They got a DUI in 2015, and things got worse, before they got better. I tried to control their drinking, and failed many times. We were codependent, reenacted so much pain and trauma on each other in those early years. It wasn’t until we moved to Portland that our relationships with drinking improved significantly. Years of healing work, therapy both individually and couples work, and the magic that is the pacific northwest healed us.

In 2020 Jess got sober. All on their own, no control necessary on my end. I am still amazed by them, and the role model they have become in every day since that decision was made. I learned to loosen my grip on controlling everyone around me, and we learned to love each other in a new way.

Naturally over the last four years things changed. We no longer have alcohol in the house, a decision I made. Jess has never controlled my drinking, or expected me to join them in sobriety. I occasionally had a drink out with friends, but our life in Portland has had a very different relationship to alcohol. We’ve met so many humans who are sober, creating cool communities, apps, and NA brands. There is SO much good NA beer, wine and spirits out there. I’ll share my list in another post.

I’ve always hated the way my head spins and I dont get good sleep after drinking. And the hangovers. I swear after 25, hangovers became an all day affair. And after 30, I’d feel them for 2 days. It simply isn’t worth it to me to feel that way anymore. There is still a small part of me that longs for that nostalgic freedom and community I felt drinking shots in college, dancing the night away but I know I can access all of that sans alcohol.

Here’s my thing though. I dont like the label. I would say that I haven’t had alcohol for at least a year, except on one occasion, but I also don’t like the finality, or the strictness of saying I’m sober. I have no attachment to it, which is the most important part to me, but I also like the freedom of changing my mind, or a one off occasion in the future. So I call it soberish. Despite knowing I’ll most likely be sober technically.

I don’t have a big dramatic reason to quit drinking, but there is no human that has a healthy relationship with drinking, ever on this planet. It is poison to all beings. It ages us, it destroys our liver, and emotionally it turns off parts of our brain that allow us to access emotional intelligence + empathy. Theres plenty of studies to back this up, but I have plenty of personal experience. I no longer feel the need to control drinking of anyone around me, but I would encourage you to examine your relationship, and what parts of yourself you are masking if the substance is part of your life.

Ok that was quite a long tale, so I’ll save the NA recs for next time. I’d love to hear your stories, if you feel like sharing.