So, here’s the deal: I don’t drink. Yup, even during the chaos of COVID. There, I said it.
If you’re curious about why, I appreciate you. If you’re giving me that deer-in-headlights stare or thinking I’m a drag, well, that’s on you.
This is a bit complicated. I don’t see myself as an alcoholic. When I announced I was going alcohol-free, my friends were shocked. Some asked how long this little experiment would last, while others were outright disappointed. And during the pandemic, I heard a lot of “you’re still not drinking?!”
The truth is, I’m a driven businesswoman, a loving wife, and a dedicated mom. My husband and I have a solid relationship, and our kids are happy, smart, and well-adjusted. Most nights, we sit down for a home-cooked meal, and my kids always have clean clothes. My weekends feature fancy breakfasts and meticulously planned summer camps. You know, the type of stuff that makes Type-A parents proud. I’ve got it all spinning nicely.
But where’s the drama? No embarrassing stories here.
So, couldn’t I just cut back? I tried that, believe me. But it quickly got annoying. I ended up with rules like “only wine on weekends, except when Friday feels like the weekend,” or “just a glass after the kids are asleep” (until they started going to bed later). The stress of the 2016 election didn’t help, nor did vacations, summer fun, or the holiday season.
Then, one uneventful Monday night, my four-year-old padded into the kitchen in his footie pajamas, and I instinctively hid my glass of wine behind the coffee maker. Sneaky, right? This was my moment of realization.
We often think that once we settle down and have kids, our drinking will naturally slow. My twenties and thirties were filled with fun social drinking—brunches, happy hours, and trips to wine country. But life in the suburbs didn’t mean less drinking. It just looked different. Suddenly, cozy nights at home with Netflix and a glass of wine became the norm.
Enter the “gray area drinking.” It’s that tricky space between responsible and irresponsible drinking. Am I an alcoholic or not? How much is too much? I’m entitled to enjoy myself, right? And what about the links between moderate drinking and health issues like breast cancer? Spoiler alert: those links exist, and we need to talk about them.
I realized I wasn’t physically addicted, but my mental health was suffering. On nights without wine, I woke up without anxiety at 3 a.m. On nights with wine, I felt sluggish and unfocused. I started getting resentful when friends or family interrupted my “self-care” (which, let’s be honest, drinking almost every night isn’t self-care). Plus, I hail from a family with a history of alcoholism.
So, with no fanfare, I rinsed my glass, put it in the sink, and committed to showing up for myself—a decision I’m proud of every day.
Fast forward to now, and it’s been 2.5 years since that quiet Monday night. Life is brighter and more fulfilling without wine. Do I miss it sometimes? Sure, but life feels richer. I’m more patient, my relationships are deeper, and I can talk to my kids about the spectrum of addiction openly and honestly. We need a culture that celebrates moms who choose healthier paths instead of normalizing disordered drinking. Imagine a world where we uplift those who want more for themselves and their families.
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In summary, choosing to stop drinking was a quiet yet powerful decision that transformed my life for the better. It opened doors to deeper relationships and a healthier mindset, and I hope to inspire others to consider their own choices.
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