I didn’t hit rock bottom.
I hit “I can’t do this anymore.”

Not the hangovers, not the bloat, not the 3AM shame spirals or the over-apologizing or the pretending I totally remembered that conversation from the night before. Not the lost days. Not the anxiety. Not even the wine headaches that Advil couldn’t touch.

It was all of it. And none of it.
It was a slow-burn realization that I didn’t actually like drinking anymore.
But I was afraid of who I’d be without it.

Would I still be fun? Would I still be liked? Would people roll their eyes at the “sober girl” and stop inviting me? Would I become boring? Would I finally have to deal with my actual emotions instead of drowning them in cocktails?

Spoiler alert: yes.
And I survived.
I became someone I actually like.

I Didn’t Have a Problem… But I Had a Pattern

If you’d asked me back then, I would’ve told you I didn’t have a drinking problem. I had a life problem. I was tired. Overwhelmed. Chronically self-sacrificing and people-pleasing. And alcohol was my release valve.

I wasn’t drinking every day, but I was thinking about it every day.

What was supposed to be a glass of wine to take the edge off became the thing that created the edge. I’d start the evening seeking relief, and end it deeper in the spiral of shame, regret, and that horrible “why did I do that again?” voice.

Drinking wasn’t the cause of my misery, but it was definitely the lock on the door.

The Myth of Moderation

I tried moderation.
I tried “just on weekends.”
I tried switching to beer. Or hard seltzer. Or only drinking at events. Or making rules like “no more than two.”
And you know what? That was exhausting too.

It turns out that when you have to think that hard about something, it’s probably not working.

Quitting altogether felt like a terrifying leap.
But it was actually the biggest relief.

Suddenly I didn’t have to manage the math, the shame, the story.
I just… didn’t drink.
And that freed up so much space to actually live.

What I Found on the Other Side

I found clarity.
Real rest.
Genuine joy that didn’t come with consequences.
Mornings that didn’t feel like punishment.
Nights that ended with a book, a mocktail, and a whole heart instead of a half-empty glass.

I re-learned how to celebrate, socialize, and soothe myself without numbing out.
Was it awkward at first? Yup.
Did some people drift away? They did.
But so did my need to perform or prove anything.

I found my voice. My softness. My strength.
And a whole lot of peace that alcohol never once delivered on.

I Quit Because I Wanted More

More presence.
More energy.
More authenticity.
More of me.

If you’re sober-curious or feeling stuck in that “gray area” where drinking doesn’t look like a crisis but sure doesn’t feel aligned anymore, I see you.

You don’t have to hit a dramatic low to want something better.
You’re allowed to leave before it gets worse.
You can quit just because it doesn’t feel good.

That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

I didn’t quit drinking because it was easy.
I quit because staying miserable was harder.
And I’ve never once regretted the trade.