My Alcohol Story

Does your relationship with alcohol seem like “a problem” for you at times, but not others?

Does the label “alcoholic” seem way too extreme?

Does drinking (or thoughts about drinking) take up more room in your mind than you would like?

Is drinking your go-to for making things feel more fun or special?

Do you ever drink to cope with stress, anxiety, anger or sadness?

Is the way you drink confusing, even to you?

If you answered yes to any of the questions above, you are not alone.

Friend, I experienced all of the above, and more. But it was mostly a silent struggle. From the outside, I didn’t look like someone who was struggling with their drinking.

I didn’t drink in the morning. I didn’t even drink every night! Day-drinking was reserved for vacations and special occasions. I was in my 30s and living in New York City. Everyone drinks most weekends, and sometimes they drink too much, right? It sure seemed like it from where I stood!

By the time I was in my mid-thirties, 90% of the time I could easily stop after one or two drinks. I’d give myself a limit, stick to it, switch to water and go home feeling great.

I was having my cake and eating it too. Except the “cake” was red wine… or martinis.

Unfortunately, those nights of successful moderation were keeping me stuck. Every time I drank and didn’t overdo it, I had more evidence that I could succeed at moderation. I would be filled with hope that I was “figuring it out” and I COULD become a “normal” drinker.. one day.

I had faith that eventually, if I just kept practicing, alcohol wouldn’t occupy my mind as much, and I would be able to TRULY take it or leave it.

(Spoiler alert: I couldn’t! That’s the problem with trying to moderate the 4th most addictive substance to humans, once the habit has been formed hundreds—if not thousands of times, over many years. More on that later.)

Because other times, it was like a dark passenger took over, and I didn’t want to stop after one, two or even three.

It’s not that I couldn’t stop, it’s that I didn’t want to.

My occasional binge drinking was my dirty not-so-little secret, but one that I hid pretty well. I wasn’t embarrassing myself, or putting myself in dangerous situations. I trusted myself when I was drinking. I knew I wouldn’t fall on the subway tracks or cheat on my boyfriend. I just wasn’t that kind of drunk.

In fact, I very rarely had a hard time remembering the end of the night. I brushed my teeth before bed. Plus some of my close friends drank more than I did!

When I looked in the mirror (as long as I wasn’t hungover), I saw a healthy young woman. I was intentional about my eating. I was happy with my weight. I read tons of personal development books. I exercised often. I had even taught myself how to stop the negative self-talk that had been in my head for years. I was self-employed and drinking wasn’t affecting my work.

I spent years lying to myself and convincing myself “it wasn’t that bad” and that I had it under control. And yet, something about my relationship with alcohol was eating away at me and causing miserable anxiety. Deep down, I knew it was fucked up.

Fucked up how?

Everything was an excuse to have a drink ..and I mean everything.

I good day! A new client. A finished project for work. A bad day. An unpleasant conversation. An argument. A birthday! A funeral. A baby shower. A wedding. A visit with family. Girls night. Gays night. Date night. Comedy shows. Vacations. Concerts. A bad breakup (are there good breakups? ha!) Doing something creative, like painting or playing piano. Renovating my fixer-upper…

And boredom. Boredom was one of my biggest triggers. When I was a drinker, I couldn’t stand being bored, and alcohol provided instant relief. Because in reality, the main thing alcohol does is slow down your brain and cognitive functions. And when your brain is slowed down, it doesn’t take very much to be entertained.

On top of that, I used alcohol to self-medicate for anxiety, which I know now actually only makes it much worse. (Live and learn!)

So you see, clearly I had developed a psychological dependency on alcohol. I was almost always looking for a “reason” to drink, because I had taught myself I could rely on it to “improve” any situation — or at the very least, change the way I felt. I can see now that this is the early stage of addiction. For most, addiction doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a slow burn.

To make matters worse, alcohol lies to you in your own voice.

Booze was my best fake friend, my sneaky copilot.

And can you blame me? Drinking alcohol set off fireworks in my brain. I learned only recently that it doesnt feel this way for everyone. Which explains a lot! Nobody talks about this.

For me, a few drinks could take something mundane (like deep cleaning the bathroom) from blah.. to a little one person PARTY! I could make almost anything fun with the right amount of alcohol.

And experiences that were already inherently fun? I truly believed alcohol only made them better.

Here’s the problem.

All this fun I’m describing, it isn’t real. It’s nothing more than a handful of complex chemical changes in your brain, which lasts about 20 minutes before wearing off. Then you feel worse than before you drank in the first place, and the quickest and easiest solution is to drink more.

I was borrowing from tomorrow’s well of happiness for today, and when you do that over and over again, eventually that well runs dry.

Why? Because alcohol alters the chemistry of your brain. Both when you are drinking it, and when you are not.This is not common knowledge, nor is it something we are educated about in school. People who drink alcohol regularly are more stressed, more depressed, and more anxious than non-drinkers. But what’s even scarier is that over time, activities that used to be fun sober (like riding a bike) slowly begin to lose their appeal. Alcohol is no longer just an enhancement, but becomes necessary for fun. And I’m not talking about people who are physically addicted to alcohol, I’m talking about most regular drinkers.

It wasn’t until I was about 15 years into my drinking “career” that this started becoming too obvious to ignore. And it wasn’t until I started reading “quit lit” and educating myself on the effects of alcohol on the human mind and body that I started to desire TRUE CHANGE.

Still, it would take me me several more years and an amazing therapist to finally become honest with myself. And it wasn’t until I started taking breaks, and then going back to drinking, to figure out how much sweeter and more vibrant my life is without alcohol in it.

I was stuck because I was still certain that moderation would be the key to happiness. I LOVED drinking and I didn’t want to give it up entirely. “Everything in moderation,” right? I couldn’t picture my life without alcohol. Sobriety was for other people.. people who had “real” drinking problems. How could I have fun at a wedding or on my birthday without alcohol? What would Christmas be like?

But I decided, after a period of depression accompanied by way too much rosé, this time, I would give sobriety a real chance. I had given alcohol and moderation a million chances, and it just wasn’t working. I felt just as stuck and as sick as ever. The definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. I knew I had to see what was up on the other side.

It turns out sobriety is the real magic pill.

Quitting drinking sucks in the beginning, but once you get past the initial discomfort of withdrawal, your brain heals. And it doesn’t even take very long!

Neuroplasticity is amazing. Over time, your mind recalibrates and you stop thinking about alcohol. For me, this process took about 3 months. That’s it!

I started to notice beauty in the everyday. I developed a childlike wonder for things I had stopped noticing when my brain was regularly expecting the false reward of a drink. Things like fireflies, the smell of fresh flowers. Putting up a Christmas tree is magical all on its own. A great first date? Connection with clarity.

My confidence has skyrocketed. I keep every single promise I make to myself. My body rewards me with energy, luscious sleep, and a gut that works the way it should.

My relationships continue to improve. My mood is elevated, almost all the time. It has become easy to say no to situations I don’t want to be in. People pleasing seems much less important, because I am pleased with myself. I have become my own best friend, and alone time is exciting instead of lonely.

Mornings don’t suck anymore. My workouts feel like a celebration of what my body can do, instead of a punishment.

Life is more intense, more vibrant, more fun, and more exciting. Of course it is—I am no longer numb.

I sometimes have dreams that I drank, and then I wake up bursting with gratitude for my sobriety. Each day I am in awe that I figured out how to become un-stuck, and it feels like I have a second chance at life.

Because if you struggle with alcohol in any capacity, you are always one decision away from a totally different reality. You don’t have to label yourself an alcoholic, or reach any sort of rock bottom to make a change. There is no qualification for sobriety.

But you do have to be ready. Nobody can tell you it’s time, you have to get there on your own, and it’s a decision only you can make for yourself. I want to help you figure it out.

With love,

Gretchen