Hullo, friends. Before we begin, a few things:
I do not intend for this post to replace professional or medical advice. I am not an expert on substance issues, and I’m not writing this from the position of one. Everyone’s journey is completely different — this article is about my own. If you are someone who is in need of professional help, please seek out an expert.
I understand that any time we talk about alcohol, it can trigger people. Feelings of defensiveness come up, possibly comparison. My intention is to share my story in a way that, instead of causing these feelings, inspires others to consider a different perspective on the topic.
For a while, when I told people I don’t drink, I said, “For spiritual and soapbox reasons.” I figured it was time to explain what that all meant to me.
Thank you for reading, especially about something that can be so delicate. I hope it helps you feel as strong and happy as I do.
I consider myself lucky that I grew up around healthy alcohol consumption.
My parents enjoyed a cold beer in the hot summer months, and an occasional drink when we were indoors for the winter.
I have fond memories of elaborate Italian dinners with one set of grandparents. Glasses of red wine at the table, along with my Grandpa’s after-dinner brandy.
On the other side of the family, my Irish relatives laughed and told stories with meals, sometimes breaking into songs and raising their glasses as they did.
Nothing ever got out of hand. No one was ever too much. I saw people get a little tipsy but never obnoxious.
Any memories of “obnoxious” were outside the family, and so rare that even for a young kid, they felt odd and foreign from what I was used to.
I was a pretty well-behaved teen and drank very little. I didn’t see the appeal to get smashed. But I wasn’t anti-alcohol either, so I had a drink here and there.
For my 19th birthday, my friends and I hopped the border to Canada to celebrate being legal up there.
In my college years, there were a bunch of parties where we all had some fun. I have the silliest memories of a group of us trying to do cartwheels and handstands, while people in the next room crushed it on Guitar Hero. Blowdart gun competitions where, impressively, no one got hurt. Occasional visits to bars where (do not judge me) I discovered I liked Fireball.
And then I was married at a young age, and those types of gatherings with friends eventually faded as we all started having babies.
Don’t get me wrong — alcohol didn’t disappear. But if I’m being honest, the next 10-ish years of the story are pretty boring. *Shrug.*
It picks up again in 2019.
As I shared in previous posts, 2019 was the worst year of my life. Things really fell apart in the springtime. I was facing the decision to get divorced — something I never wanted or could’ve imagined would happen. I was dealing with extreme trauma and betrayal; I couldn’t make sense of most things.
Yet, something in me knew that shit was about to get unbelievably hard. I thank my lucky stars I had enough wits about me to make preparatory changes.
My ex-husband wasn’t living in our home anymore, and this was the first time in my life that I was “living alone.” Of course, the kids were there, but it was a huge shock to my system to not have another adult around, especially in the evenings. I knew how easy it would be to pour a glass of wine, whether by myself or with a girlfriend, and drink my way through the trauma.
But I somehow knew I had to do it differently. I knew I had to move through it instead of going around it. I knew I had to feel it all and couldn’t numb any of it.
So I decided to indefinitely cut all alcohol out of my life.
It turned into 9 months without a single sip.
And boy oh boy, during those 9 months, did I feel it all. I felt so much that it nearly took me out. But looking back, I’m grateful I turned to other tools instead of drinking to get me through.
I had my “first” drink again with my sisters in February 2020 after the hiatus.
And I would say this is where things started to get interesting.
Over the next 3 years, I experienced a surge and then a total disenchantment with drinking.
It began in the dating world. Everyone wanted to meet for drinks for the first date. Crowded, sticky bars where music played way too loud, everyone shouting to have any semblance of a conversation.
But it extended beyond dating. All gatherings seemed to have a common denominator: drinking. On the kayaks, bring drinks. After climbing, grab drinks. For a girl’s night, go for drinks. After the hike, stop for drinks. Get dressed up and grab a drink. Come over for a drink.
I’m a lightweight and typically didn’t need much, but it was still such a central part of being social. And once I noticed that, I became annoyed.
I started to get a little indignant about the whole thing for many reasons, and I’ll share them in no particular order:
#1. Drinking destroyed my sleep.
Ugh, I cannot tell you how many sleepless nights I had after consuming alcohol. Some people get sleepy with their buzz and conk right out. But for me, I’d be wide awake for the rest of the night.
Losing sleep was such a deterrent, that I started to limit/avoid just so I’d be able to sleep at night.
#2. Drinking is not what I wanted to spend my money on.
Sure, drinking is more affordable if you like beer. (Ewww…)
But I loved a good cocktail. And having a couple of cocktails became too pricey for me. As a single mom, I had to be so careful about where my money was going. But not only that, I became extremely intentional about putting my money toward things that actually matched my values.
I had been on my healing journey for years before this, but the divorce catapulted me into deeper work. Insurance didn’t cover my life-changing EMDR therapy sessions, so I budgeted $125 a session to pay for it myself. When I told people the cost, they sucked in their breath and said they could never afford that. For me though? It was worth every penny.
Healing work was one of my highest priorities after the divorce. When I tracked how much of my money was going toward drinking, my eyes narrowed.
It was a total misalignment of values.
So for a while, I just budgeted better. Instead of getting two drinks while out, I’d get one.
But even then, it didn’t feel like a good compromise because…
#3. Alcohol is legal, but other healing substances are not?
By this time in my life, I had become familiar with different plant medicines and had used them exclusively for spiritual healing. These substances are so powerful for me, and I have always approached them with profound respect. As a result, I’ve had the most beautiful, mind-blowing, heart-opening healing journeys with them.
These experiences have brought about unbelievable transformations; so real, so lasting, so visceral, and so deep. I came out of each one changed, full of more love than before, my baseline shifted into a new now.
And then…I would look around and see lives utterly destroyed by alcohol. I would see people acting silly at best, or cruelly at worst, once it got flowing in their veins.
I saw how socially acceptable and expected it is to drink for any occasion, at any hour, even at breakfast. (Mimosa, anyone? Clink.)
During this time, healing became my whole focus. I was meditating, tapping into intuitive abilities, and becoming increasingly sensitive to energy, sounds, and vibrational qualities.
It is my soul’s mission to heal myself and to help others heal as well, if they want it.
And yet one of the most legal, socially-promoted substances is impeding that healing from happening.
Alcohol is an extremely low-vibration substance. A huge part of healing is raising your vibration out of dense, heavy patterns and energy. Each time we consume alcohol, its heaviness and toxicity impact our energy body so dramatically that it can cause damage at a spiritual level.
Even if one would argue that the above is not true, we already know the damage it causes to our physical and mental health — and yet it is still so socially accepted and encouraged anywhere we turn.
“All things in moderation,” some people say.
I completely disagree. Because I came to find that even tiny, tiny moderation was not correct for me, leading to my next point.
#4. I became very aware of how I felt once I consumed any amount of alcohol.
Near the end of my alcohol journey, I was maybe purchasing one drink while out. As I mentioned earlier, I loved cocktails. The combination of flavors, mmmm. Anything with pine, rosemary, basil, pepper, cinnamon, heat, warmth… I loved the art and creation that goes into making a balanced, delightful drink.
But by this time, I wasn’t even finishing it. I would give it away 1/3 of the way in.
The more I healed and focused on my vibration, the more sensitive I became to everything. Alcohol was no exception; in fact, the whole culture around alcohol is where I noticed it first.
Instead of fighting it, I listened. The more I listened to my body, the more I realized that I just didn’t enjoy loud bars and the chaotic energy of these places anymore. I would get home and truly feel like I had to wipe down and shake it all off of my body.
Not only would I dread places like this, but it dawned on me one day that I also despised how alcohol felt in my body.
I felt my vibration drop instantly.
I felt off.
Sure, I felt buzzy, but not in a good way. Instead of that fun, tipsy feeling, it was like I was being disconnected from myself.
After a few sips, I didn’t want it anymore.
Honestly, alcohol started to feel like poison in my system.
And that’s when I realized - wait, it actually is.
#5. Alcohol is poison.
When I hear people talk about how they can “handle” their alcohol, what I hear is, “I can handle poison.”
Our culture and society have become so trained to believe that alcohol is normal, that if we can handle it, we’re normal too. But if we can’t handle it, we’re somehow broken, diseased, or less than.
But what if…
What if the fact that you can’t handle this poisonous substance doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you? What if it means there’s something very right about you?
That is why I don’t use the word “sober” when describing my relationship with alcohol.
Sober has become an identifying word to mean without.
There is an acceptable norm (with), and we use the word “sober” to identify away from that norm.
I disagree with this mentality.
It’s like when I go to the grocery store to buy almond milk, I see two options:
Almond Milk
Unsweetened Almond Milk
But why aren’t the options Almond Milk and Sweetened Almond Milk?
Why is adding sugar to almond milk the norm? Why doesn’t the added sugar have to be labeled and identified, whereas the unaltered version is worded with lacking language?
In the same way, using the word sober identifies someone as being different than the norm.
Before I go on, I need to be clear: I completely, entirely, 100% understand and respect why people use this word for themselves. They use it with pride. They carry it with victory and strength — as they should. They have overcome unimaginable hardships and made decisions to change their lives for the better. I stand alongside them, full of love, cheering for them every step of the way. I am not in disagreement with them, nor would I ever want them to just drop this word after everything they’ve accomplished.
Sometimes when people find out that I don’t drink anymore, they are very sweet and gentle about it, as if they know any conversation could be broaching a touchy topic, filled with a disastrous or embarrassing past.
But…it’s simply not — I really don’t have an exciting story. It wasn’t hangovers, a close call, getting injured, getting belligerent, or not being able to stop after one drink that made me pause.
Maybe you don’t need to wait for those things to happen either.
I just wonder what the world would be like if more people looked more closely at the subtle changes going on in their spiritual, emotional, and physical bodies when they consume this substance.
What would it be like if we opted for more holistic, high-vibrational drinks and activities instead?
What if we did this, not because our lives had gotten so bad and unpleasant first, but because we felt the call to shift and redefine what’s normal?
If you’re curious about starting the process of limiting your alcohol consumption, be on the lookout for Part 2 of this series. I’ll be sharing more about the exact, specific things I did to deal with social awkwardness, how I handled telling friends and family, my opinion on mocktails, and how I feel about missing alcohol. There have also been some challenges to the no-alcohol healing journey as well. So, stay tuned for all of that and more.
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This 🙌🏼
I feel like I'm on a similar journey right now. Thank you for sharing, as it feels so affirming and reassuring to read your words!