I Quit Drinking: Notes on Mindful Change

When I first quit drinking, I often joked that I picked a fine time to get sober, the joke being that there was SO much I could cry into my bourbon about, but isn’t there always? 

I joked this with myself, because I didn’t really talk about it with anyone at first. I think I was trying to figure out how I felt about it, and I didn’t want to have to explain to anyone if I bailed out on my efforts.

It's been 5 months now, and to be honest, it’s taken me almost this long to feel comfortable with this change. Quitting wasn’t a big dramatic moment, just another morning after my nightly drink left me feeling hazy and slow.

I downed couple of glasses of water and decided that’s it, I’m putting that aside. There was no big pronouncement, no predetermined amount of time or plan, just a sense that I was walking away from something that had been a part of my life for a long time.

I envisioned a monumental shift would quickly occur, but the truth is the most impactful changes have been slow and subtle.

The Reality of Letting Go

There are the obvious positives… I no longer have hangovers. Quitting has saved me money and has freed up time and energy for other things. But what I thought I’d feel—free, unburdened, and pain-free? Hahaha. Nope.

Now I get to feel ALL of the things. No more warm, familiar blanket over the reality of being human— I get to feel bored, tired, frustrated, sad…and those are just the lighter states of being. I also get to feel my grief. My anger. Disappointment. Even rage. Being human can bring some heavy stuff.

And here’s where it gets interesting. Unprocessed feelings can become a soupy, indistinct mess, everything spilling into everything else, until we don’t even know what we are feeling anymore.

Meeting Stubborn Me

When I first stopped drinking, most of what I felt was irritation at not being able to drink. Of course I could, if I wanted to. No one was stopping me from filling my favorite glass and taking that first, long swig. I hadn’t even told anyone that I wasn’t drinking.

But there was something else, a quiet, unfamiliar part of me that held me back. I can best describe it as stubbornness. I was the one telling me not to do it, to let the impulse pass.

Hello, Stubborn Me, so nice to finally meet you!  

Stubborn Me at the museum

Stubborn Me is the one who told me this was worthwhile, when all the other Me’s competed to take over.

Stubborn Me overrode Bored Me, Anxious Me, and Tired Me.

She was the one who tossed back, Yeah, it's uncomfortable. So what?

She told me to ride it out another hour, another day, another week, and then another...

As I sat with the discomfort, my mood lifted and clarity started to emerge. I started to see just how much I was burying what needed to be felt.

Slowly, Stubborn Me has revealed herself to be Wise Me, who knew I didn’t really need a drink.

I just needed a nap.

Or to feel myself breathing.

Or to say out loud the words I’d been drowning in a glass of wine.

Wise Me admits drinking stopped being fun a long time ago. Wise Me recognizes that my feelings are decipherable and instructive when I slow down and listen.

Wise Me loves to peel back the layers, to rewind to the beginning and replay, but slower this time.

More evenly. She notices, she learns.

Turning Towards Myself

I never thought it would, but my craving has completely dried up. Even in a world steeped in alcohol culture (and I do still love holding a pretty glass…), I now go days without even thinking about drinking. It’s still hard for me to believe. I was afraid of living without alcohol’s glittery façade, but here I am, seeing through the illusion.

This world still glitters—even in shadows, sometimes more than I thought possible.

And I get to feel it all.

Warmth. Joy. Possibility.

The world still glitters, even in shadows

My craving for escape has been replaced by a desire to stay present, sit through the hard, be fully awake and alive, no matter what.

Feel. It. All.

The cost of years of drowning out the noise of my feelings was high. I delayed working through crucial parts of my experience. I drank away inconvenient truths. I tucked away parts of myself that felt too big to hold.

It was a habit I relied upon to relieve the discomfort of living. But it became both a crutch and a hindrance. And I didn’t want to depend on it anymore. I have other tools now. And I’ve learned I can trust Wise Me to show up—even when things feel big or scary.

This isn’t about the perils or pitfalls of drinking—I claim no moral authority. We each get to decide what works for us. For me, this has been about not turning away from myself in my time of need. It’s about learning to hold whatever arises with compassion and care. It’s about the practice of returning home to myself, again and again.

Leaning into Mindful Transitions

I’m still processing all of this, and I don’t think there’s a one-size-fits-all way to make lasting change. Some turn to nature or meditation. Some people find support in programs. Some in therapy. Some in replacements, resources, or rituals. Most often, it’s a combination of things arriving at the right time.

If I had any advice, it would be this: Transitions like this—like most meaningful ones—are messy. They can be scary. They can come in starts and stops. They ask for patience, courage, and a whole lot of trust.

There’s no one path, there is only your path. And on your path, the only constant is the presence you bring and the trust you build in yourself.

One foot in front of the other

If you’re anywhere on the path of change, whether 17 days in or 7 years, know this:

You can do this.

You already have what it takes.

And I fully believe your wisest self has your back.

If this resonated with you, you’re not alone. I’m in the early stages of creating a virtual space for yoga, mindfulness, and honest conversations around life’s tender transitions. If that speaks to you, I’d love for you to stay connected—feel free to leave a comment or reach out.

If you've been down a similar path what has worked for you? What have you found on the other side?

Sending you so much love!