Below, you’ll find stories about questioning alcohol, getting sober, and stepping into a bigger, more expansive life in sobriety.

Join the conversation by sharing your favorite alcohol-free writers and resources in the comments. If you’re sober, feel free to include a link to your own publication or website. We celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

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Questioning alcohol

• There are no qualifications needed to question your drinking,

• The seductive lure of the pitcher plant,

• What I Ignored About My Alcoholic Liver Disease,

Getting sober

• The hour after you stop drinking,

• I got sober. It got weird.

• 222 days sober from alcohol,

Along the way

• Floating to falling,

• What Sobriety and 8 Kids Have Taught Me,

• Shutting up the wine witch for good,

A bigger sober life

• What It’s Like Being 9 Years Alcohol Free,

• Can you do wine country when you don’t drink alcohol?

• Our Restless Hearts,

• Hungry For. While this conversation series isn’t sober-specific, most guests so far are people who don’t drink—some call themselves sober, while others are living alcohol-free without labels. As a starting place, see the conversations with Adam, Allison, Jennifer, Maria, and Marya.

• SoberStack™. This directory of alcohol-free newsletters on Substack is updated monthly. More than three years in, it’s at 222 alcohol-free writers and counting.

Do you have any sober reads, resources, or recommendations to share? We’d love to hear from you in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap that little heart? It lets others know there’s something helpful here and grows our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

When and how did you get sober?

I got sober in October of 2012. Funny, but I don’t remember the exact date—I’ve arbitrarily decided it was October 21^st. My drink of choice was Bombay Gin (not that Sapphire stuff—too perfumy). On the rocks. No soda, no twist. And occasionally after a few of them, I’d drink it straight out of the bottle (when no one was looking, of course). I had been drinking almost every day for several years, and at some conscious level, I knew I had a problem. I wasn’t a noisy or rowdy drunk—I was very quiet, yet very tipsy. I was able to at the least appear sober, but I had also noticed even that was getting more difficult. On another level, I think I was waiting for someone to challenge me—to call me out for my drinking. I know it sounds strange, and I’ve only realized this in retrospect, mostly because of how I stopped drinking.

My wife and I were having some issues, related indirectly to my drinking, but the drinking itself wasn’t on the table as an issue. At least that’s what I thought. We went to a therapist, who, after a few sessions, sat back and asked if I had “ever examined my relationship with alcohol.” When I mocked her by noting she was the third therapist over many years to ask me the exact same question, she countered. Rather than argue with me, she simply asked if I thought I could stop drinking for a week. I said “sure.” She then asked if I could stop drinking for a month—my answer again was “sure.” She then asked that I do that. Not sure what “that” meant, I asked her whether she meant a week or a month. She said “either.” That was in October of 2012, and I haven’t had a drink since. I know this sounds unlikely, but like I said, I was waiting for someone to call me out.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

Deep inside I must have been feeling like I was on a merry-go-round I was tiring of. I’d never drunk during the day—I usually waited until 6:00—although at some point that became 5:00. I’d have a gin or two, often followed by wine at dinner. While I rarely had hangovers, I almost always felt sluggish the following morning. A pattern had developed, and I felt like I wasn’t in control of my own life anymore. I didn’t like that at all. As well, toward the end of my drinking, all too often, while at home my evening would end with my quietly going upstairs and passing out on the bed. In retrospect, I’m fortunate that my drinking didn’t lead to something terrible happening. More than once I drove when I shouldn’t have.

What surprised you about getting sober?

I know this might seem odd, but it’s also honest, and my own story. What surprised me the most was how easy it was. I literally made the decision in the therapist’s office that day. Did I think at the time I would never drink again? Probably not, but I was certain that I needed to give sobriety a week, and then a month, to see what happened.

That visit to the therapist wasn’t our last, because the issues we had were exacerbated by the drinking. But the therapist was able to help us, and I’m still married. The therapist was also able to convince me that drinking was only part of an “addiction mentality.” I’m one of those people who can easily become addicted to anything—alcohol, drugs, cigarettes, etc. And I must remind myself of that often. My only addiction now is sweets. But I’ve had enough experience to realize that the way my body feels after going on a chocolate binge isn’t worth it.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

At first, the biggest challenge was being at dinners, or events where everyone else was drinking. I am naturally an introvert, and drinking was a way to lubricate and become more of a conversationalist. When I stopped drinking, I asked myself, “How am I ever going to be able to go out in public? Who will I be? How am I going to be?”

The answer is: I’m going to be me—just sober. Maybe a lot quieter, but I’ve learned to live with that. I also often feel like an observer at events where most other people are drinking—watching other people drink is actually fun. And I’m also at the point where I don’t even walk around with a glass of soda water at cocktail parties, so that I can feel like I belong. If I’m thirsty, I grab a drink; if I’m not, I’m fine with no crutch. And if I have nothing to say, that’s fine. I’m no longer thinking about what others are thinking about me.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

Clear-headedness all the time. Knowing that decisions I make are coming from a cleaner and clearer place. I lost weight—about 15 pounds in only a few months. My eating choices are saner. The inner addict jumped on the salty chips while drinking, and sweets were far easier to inhale.

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

If you’re thinking about becoming sober, it’s your body’s way of saying, “It’s time to become sober.” Period. Your inner self knows more than you think it does. If you’ve recently become sober, you will find ways of staying on the path only if you really want to stay on the path. It does become easier. Much easier. I know that might be hard to imagine for someone new to sobriety, but you’ll hear that from many people. And there are many supportive places out there—Alcoholics Anonymous might not be for everyone. But it’s good to know it’s there.

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Richie. We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

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Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

What are the biggest gifts of sobriety?

We ask this in the My Sobriety Story series and have pulled together some recent responses below. You can find the full stories here.

Whether you’re sober curious and looking for inspiration, navigating a tough stretch, or feeling steady in your sobriety and wanting to reflect and connect, we hope you’ll find these responses uplifting and expansive.

We’d love to hear from you, too. What gifts has sobriety brought to your life? Please share in the comments.

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“The biggest benefit for me is the calm and peace that comes from sobriety. When I was drinking, it wasn’t just the alcohol‑induced anxiety that crippled me. It was the constant worry that my life was going to implode. What if people found out? What if I got in trouble? What if I got really sick? The constant ‘what ifs’ ran my days. I was always on edge, always hoping I wouldn’t be found out.

After getting through detox, an incredible calm started to settle into my days. No more hiding. No more running. Everyone knew. And one day at a time, it got better.” —

“Self-trust, self-love, and self-respect. My mornings are so much clearer. I no longer wake up conducting an investigation into what I said, whether I hurt anyone’s feelings, or if Ethan is still angry at me. I still wake up tired—I have two young children, and forty does not guarantee a luminous dawn—but I don’t wake up ashamed.

I’m also calmer and more present with my kids. Not all the time, because they remain committed to testing the outer limits of my nervous system, but much more often. I feel like I’m giving them the best of me now, rather than whatever scraps were left over.

And with the brain space sobriety has given me back, I’ve finally started pursuing something I’ve wanted since elementary school: writing. Not journaling or occasionally starting a draft I’d abandon after a few pages, but actually finishing things. Since I stopped drinking, I’ve written a novel and a half and started publishing personal essays. I never would have had the nerve for that kind of exposure when I was still so preoccupied with everyone else’s perception of me.

I’m no longer spending my creative energy maintaining a persona. I get to spend it making something.” —

“I’ve been able to repair my relationship with my wife. I did some really serious damage. I was in rehab for our 15-year wedding anniversary and I was in jail for my wife’s 40th birthday. Not ideal moments to miss. I would say our relationship is the strongest it’s ever been now.

A recent gift has been that one of my wife’s sisters has started attending meetings with me and is starting her own sobriety journey!

Finally, I’ve been able to align my career with my sobriety. I’ve found a sense of purpose that I never had before. I was always so focused on money and achievements even though I was miserable. Turns out I was climbing a ladder that was leaning on the wrong wall!” —

“The most important gift has been discovering myself and figuring out what brings me fulfillment. I spent much of my life on autopilot—checking off milestones I was handed and never questioned. Go to school, get a job, secure promotions. I never stopped to think about what I wanted or what would make me happy, and I spent more energy numbing myself than getting to know myself.

In sobriety, I’ve done the opposite. I’ve leaned into curiosity and exploring whatever piques my interest. In the early days it was simple—long walks, puzzles, books. But those small things created space for bigger ones.

Soon, I was dusting off my keyboard and finding myself writing again. Then I was lacing up my running shoes and training for a 10K. Passions that I had when I was younger that eventually got clouded by the alcohol.

Without alcohol taking up so much space, I finally had room to ask what I actually liked. I’m excited to see what other passions are left to be uncovered and where my journey of self-discovery leads.” —

“People. I thought sobriety would be about everything I had to give up. Instead, one of its greatest gifts has been everyone I found.

In my Pacific Palisades meetings, I found a close-knit group of girlfriends. We’d go to meetings, hang out afterward, laugh, talk about our lives, and keep each other accountable. I don’t know if I would have stayed in the rooms long enough to get the program without those women. They taught me something addiction never could: Connection changes the chemistry too.

Now that I live and travel in Mexico and around the world, I can walk into an AA meeting almost anywhere and find people who understand me. Different country. Different language sometimes. Same disease. Same solution.

Sobriety also gave me a relationship with a Higher Power. Not lightning bolts or a booming voice from the sky. Little things. Synchronicities. People appearing when I need them. A quiet morning. A prayer that changes me even when it doesn’t change the situation.

For years, I needed everything turned up to eleven just to feel something. Now I notice the miracle of ordinary life.” —

“The ultimate gift of my sobriety is true emotional sobriety: shifting from being a reactive person to somebody who responds to life. There is a beautiful quote attributed to Viktor Frankl that captures it: ‘Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.’ For me, that space is the pause. Being able to notice my body’s physical cues and self-regulate my nervous system in real time feels like an absolute superpower.

It is an internal grounding that serves me every second of every day in my marriage, my personal relationships, and my business. These past five-plus years have been the happiest and healthiest of my life.” —

“I never want to lose the agency and spiritual connection I gained through my recovery and through doing my inner work. For me, emotional and social intelligence, maturity, and wisdom have been part of those gifts.” —

“Sincerity and the ability to actually feel things. Giving myself permission to experience life as it is, not life through my wounds or coping mechanisms or fears. I am on this planet to live as me, to experience the life and path in front of me. I won’t let alcohol and fear take that from me.” —

“I share my story with others and hopefully give them hope. I’ve been told by many people that my story has positively affected their lives. I help people get sober now. I have the honor of running a rehab. It’s so cool to live where the grass truly is greener.” —Jordan

“I am fully present all the time. When things happen, I can remain calm—calm enough to pause, to assess, and to take action. I like the life I have now—it’s a beautiful one, a gift. I wake up every day thankful to be here, thankful for a chance to be of service one more day.” —

What gifts has sobriety brought to your life?

Please share in the comments. And before you go, would you take a second to tap that little heart? It lets others know there’s something helpful here and grows our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

I work swiftly, plucking one red folder here, a green folder there, yellow or blue, grabbing between four and twelve glue sticks to put into each bag, nestling between the Kleenex and the Clorox wipes, ticking off the list for each child, writing their name, grade, and teacher’s name on the brown paper sack. It is a dizzying experience.

I am nearing four years sober.

There was a time, about a decade ago, the first time I was a stepmom, that I was preparing a child with school supplies for the first time. I gathered a space cat lunch box, colored pencils, eagerly read the school supply list. I made a poster for packing his lunch:

And then, when I settled down on the carpet to prepare his school supplies, I drank. I drank wine and I counted his pencils and notebooks. I asked if he had the backpack he liked, what else he needed. I sat on the floor, drinking glass after glass of cheap champagne, then some wine from the Bota Box on the counter.

I drank because that was what I did—I drank. I drank while I did stuff. It was nighttime, and that was what I did at nighttime.

There wasn’t anything terribly stressful about school supplies (and back then, if only I had known how simple preparing one set of school supplies was, although really, it’s just a few more glue sticks). And honestly, it was kind of exciting to have a school-age child for the first time. It felt celebratory, this drinking while I was packing the school supplies (another favorite was drinking while I wrapped presents, but that’s another thing entirely).

I loved my stepson, so very much, and I desperately wanted him to have a good school year, since he had just moved in with us the summer between 5th and 6th grade. I asked him what he was looking forward to, what else he wanted. What he was hoping his year would be like. What clubs he might join. What middle school was like, really.

I was a good stepmom. And sure, I got a little sloppy there at the end of the night, but when I woke up—mouth dry, hoping I didn’t say or do anything too stupid—I looked for evidence the next day that I got to bed, that the backpack was ready, that the water bottle was ready (although truth be told, in pre-Covid times, it’s possible he didn’t have a water bottle).

But this image—this goofball piece of paper that I created using Clip Art (which was ironic to me back then)—this is what I held up and said, I can’t be an alcoholic.

My idea of what a good mom was—a person who made a well-balanced and nutritious lunch offering—and what an alcoholic was—a person who lives under a bridge and wears a trench coat—just did not compute.

And really, at the end of the day, all was largely well. His school supplies were roughly correct, surely. All was well—except me. I was hoping I had counted everything right. I was hoping I had prepared correctly.

Here’s the thing: the school supplies got sent to school. The naptime blankets got folded and put into the backpacks. It. All. Got. Done.

And in large part, it all got done well. This is the lie of the functioning alcoholic. I had to work so hard to overachieve, to hold up the idea that I was doing this well, so I didn’t have to face the reality that I had a problem.

The difference in preparing my kids for school now, nearing four years sober, isn’t what I do—it’s in how I feel. I am calmer and more confident. I am happier. I have an entirely different central nervous system than I had back then (I also have a different husband, and that helps, too).

I take shortcuts—I still sometimes just re-fold the baby’s daycare blanket rather than washing it. I did buy off-brand crayons one year, and I am actually sorry for that (they were terrible).

I am not a perfect human. But I am also not working to be a perfect human—to hold myself up to the light, squinting, examining, looking this way and that: “here’s just enough well-done momming that we can dodge looking directly at the burning, bright light of the truth of the situation.”

The most counterintuitive part of giving up drinking was that giving up the thing I believed relaxed me the most actually allowed me to relax more.

The other thing that has been so wildly empowering is this: I am out in the world as an alcoholic. The kids’ teachers know I’m in recovery—I am public with my blog. I am public with my healing. There is nothing I am trying to hide from.

The school supplies are still placed in a bag—just now, with a steadier hand.

What feels easier or steadier now that you’re sober? We’d love to hear in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap the heart? It helps more people find this work and supports our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

is a mother, stepmother, and advocate for normalizing the discussion of alcoholism among strong, smart women. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Idaho in 2013 and now makes a living selling tree work. Kristen writes about sobriety and parenting in her newsletter and is nearing completion of her ICF Associate Certified Coach credential. If you’re interested in receiving sober coaching from Kristen, you can schedule a discovery call here.

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

When and how did you get sober?

I got sober decades ago as a young man, after reaching a point of stagnation where the general pain level in life became too much.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

I was willing to do anything to stop the inner hurt. The real turning point was recognizing that something needed to change, that I needed help and healing.

What surprised you about getting sober?

Surprisingly, the easiest part of doing my recovery work was staying sober.

I was surprised by how “easy” it was to let go of old coping patterns, and how liberating it felt to have found a solution and started to experience change.

Today, I am sometimes very surprised by how much continuous sobriety can still ask of me after 30-plus years—how much I need to love and welcome inner development, change, and transformation, and how much willingness I still need to have to go through the pain of growing, which is something very different from the suffering caused by any addiction.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

The biggest challenge is putting recovery first. Depending on the period of life someone is in, that can feel very tough.

Sobriety can also mean stepping out of lifestyles, professional roles, and environments that people around you are still living in. I’ve found it to be a journey that requires deep honesty, willingness, openness—and trust.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

I was surprised by the inner opening and blossoming—by experiencing beauty, nature, inner awakening, and a new quality of connection with companions on the path to recovery.

I never want to lose the agency and spiritual connection I gained through my recovery and through doing my inner work. For me, emotional and social intelligence, maturity, and wisdom have been part of those gifts.

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

It is worth it. One heavy day in recovery is still better than the best day in active addiction, no matter what kind.

Taking it one step at a time is crucial. Having a solid recovery network and people who help you on the path is essential. We can’t do it by ourselves.

And—as much as people might not like it—there is no easier, softer way than through it. Through the pain of healing, the layers of discomfort, and sometimes whatever older weight we carry within us.

And perhaps most important at the beginning: It’s never about the amount you’re drinking or how your drinking compares with others’. It’s about the effect that drinking or other substances have on you personally. And finally, worth mentioning: Even our own body chemistry, triggered by unhealthy behaviors or addictive relationships, can become part of the problem.

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Roland. We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

Leave a comment

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

When and how did you get sober?

The first time I tried to get sober, back in college, I went to a yoga retreat. I genuinely thought I could breathe my way through the shakes and withdrawal from all the booze and benzos.

Very spiritual. Very optimistic. Very wrong.

I stayed dry for about a month, but I hadn’t dealt with anything underneath the drinking and drugs. I’d simply removed them. So not long after I got out, I fell right back into the hole.

Years later, I was 51/50’d and institutionalized on what was supposed to be a 48-hour psychiatric hold. Forty-eight hours became weeks. I came out “stabilized,” except my version of stable came with a pharmacy in a paper bag. Ativan. Clonazepam. Seroquel. Xanax.

I wasn’t sober. I was sedated. That distinction took me years to understand.

There were more relapses and what we call “geographics” in recovery—changing cities, relationships, jobs, scenery. I kept leaving one mess only to eventually find myself sitting in another.

The scenery changed. My baggage didn’t. Eventually, I crash-landed in AA. This time I stayed. I found a sponsor and worked the steps, which forced me to stop blaming my family dysfunction, relationships, anxiety, Hollywood, or whatever else I’d put on trial that week.

Eventually, I had to face the common denominator. Me. And strangely, that’s where freedom started.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

The wine stopped working. That scared the hell out of me. For years, substances had been my escape hatch. Anxious? Drink. Sad? Drink. Celebrating? Drink. Couldn’t sleep? Take something. Needed energy? Take something else.

There was always a chemical answer to a human feeling. Until there wasn’t. I didn’t particularly want to quit. But I didn’t want to die either.

So I went to a meeting. Then another. One meeting became the next. One day became the next.

And somewhere in those ordinary days, something extraordinary happened: the fog began to lift. I could think. Sleep. Feel. My body started to feel like mine for the first time in my adult life.

Eventually, I wasn’t waking up every morning trying to recover from the night before. I was just… waking up. Being alive was becoming less painful than trying to escape it.

What surprised you about getting sober?

That I could actually feel good without putting something in my body to manufacture the feeling. I’d spent decades chasing a high through booze, pills, drugs, relationships, shopping, food—whatever promised to change the channel in my head.

Then one day I noticed I just… felt good. Nothing dramatic had happened. I was outside. The sun was shining. My dog was happy. My head was quiet. A natural high without the crash.

Now, after 6.5 years sober, I get little flashes of it everywhere. Finishing something I’ve written. Laughing until my stomach hurts. A great conversation. Walking barefoot.

I spent years trying to get out of my own head. Sobriety taught me how to finally live inside it.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

Bargaining. Not necessarily about alcohol anymore. About everything else. My addiction loves to argue that maybe I can take another substance because technically, I’m not drinking. Because it’s legal. Prescribed. Available. Medicine.

Living and traveling in Mexico, I’ll sometimes pass pharmacies advertising medications that wake up an old, familiar voice: You could just walk in. You’re not drinking. It’s medicine. Maybe just this once.

Addiction is a fabulous attorney. Give it five minutes and it’ll build a closing argument for why this time doesn’t count.

But I can walk into a store and buy alcohol just as easily. Availability isn’t the problem. My bargaining is.

Pills were one of my favorite escape hatches, so they’re still where my brain occasionally tries to negotiate the fine print of sobriety. I’ve learned I don’t have to win the argument. I just can’t take the first pill. Or drink.

And I have to remember the whole story when the old escape starts looking beautiful again. I have to remember how the movie ends.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

People. I thought sobriety would be about everything I had to give up. Instead, one of its greatest gifts has been everyone I found.

In my Pacific Palisades meetings, I found a close-knit group of girlfriends. We’d go to meetings, hang out afterward, laugh, talk about our lives, and keep each other accountable. I don’t know if I would have stayed in the rooms long enough to get the program without those women.

They taught me something addiction never could: Connection changes the chemistry too.

Now that I live and travel in Mexico and around the world, I can walk into an AA meeting almost anywhere and find people who understand me. Different country. Different language sometimes. Same disease. Same solution.

Sobriety also gave me a relationship with a Higher Power. Not lightning bolts or a booming voice from the sky. Little things. Synchronicities. People appearing when I need them. A quiet morning. A prayer that changes me even when it doesn’t change the situation.

For years, I needed everything turned up to eleven just to feel something. Now I notice the miracle of ordinary life.

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

I’d ask them one question: Aren’t you tired of living dead? Tired of waking up and immediately needing something to make being alive tolerable?

That was the most exhausting part of addiction for me. Not just the hangovers, blackouts, pills, consequences, or shame. It was the constant management.

Do I have enough? When can I drink? What can I take? How do I not feel this? How do I get through tonight? How do I get through myself?

It’s exhausting trying to escape your own life every day.

So don’t think about forever. Forever scared the shit out of me. Try today.

Don’t pick up the drink today. Don’t take the pill today.

Go to one meeting. Tell one person the truth. Take one walk. Make one phone call. Breathe through one craving.

Then go to bed. Tomorrow, you can decide again. Because whether you have twenty years sober, twenty days, or twenty minutes, none of us actually gets more than this one day.

And somewhere along the way, something I never expected happened: I stopped simply trying not to die. I started wanting to live. One day at a time.

🖤 Cyn, aka Bougie Hippie

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Cyn. We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

Leave a comment

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

When and how did you get sober?

I got sober in May 2023 upon entering rehab for my first—and God-willing—last time.

It was on the heels of my second DUI arrest, and a radical change was necessary. In the months prior to the arrest, I was only able to string together a week or two without drinking. It was me and my self-will against the world—I thought that was enough.

When I got to rehab, I didn’t really have a plan. It all happened so quickly in the days after the arrest, and resistance felt futile with my parents, friends, and boyfriend (the man who is now my fiancé) urging me to go.

I showed up feeling scared, uneasy, and alone.

But what I would learn during my 28-day stay was worth those first few days of discomfort.

I absorbed as much information as I could, and I treated every suggestion as a rule.

Attend 90 meetings in 90 days. On it.

Get a sponsor. Will do.

Change people, places, and things. Already making a list.

Find a home group when you leave. I showed up at a meeting at 7 a.m. the next morning.

I didn’t want to leave my sobriety to chance.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

The most obvious answer would be the second DUI, but the deeper truth is that I could no longer hold onto the excuse that I was hiding behind—the idea of the high-functioning alcoholic.

The word alcoholic is right there, yet I found a way to gloss over that detail for many years.

The signs of my alcohol dependence appeared in my early twenties. I needed a drink to steady my hands throughout the day. I rarely went a day without one. Even during the times when I felt “in control,” I was always having at least one drink a day.

But alcohol wasn’t only something I had become physically dependent on. It had become the way I avoided almost everything that I didn’t want to feel.

I spent years trying to come across as the easygoing girl—the one who was unbothered and didn’t get hurt. I became so focused on acting like I didn’t have feelings that I rarely stopped to acknowledge the ones I actually had.

So instead of admitting when I was hurt, lonely, insecure, or that I simply wanted to feel loved, I drank.

And yet, on the outside, things appeared to be going well. I excelled in school, got a good job, went on to grad school, and got an even higher-paying job.

So I’d ask myself, How could I possibly be an alcoholic?

But in the final few years before I got sober, my alcoholism progressed further and the warning signs compounded.

My reputation as a diligent, hardworking employee had been replaced by one of unreliability. My relationship was on the brink of disaster, and my friends were growing tired of worrying about me all the time.

The evidence was already there. The DUI was simply the final piece of evidence I needed to accept what had already been true for years.

What surprised you about getting sober?

How quickly the uncomfortable moments pass.

I didn’t know how to sit through a dinner with friends, attend holiday gatherings, celebrate literally anything, or deal with minor inconveniences without a drink in my hand.

It felt insurmountable. In my head, every sober first seemed like an event I needed to survive.

How could I possibly have fun? How do I even act?

Then five minutes would go by, maybe ten, and I’d realize I was blending right in with everyone around me. No one was questioning why I wasn’t drinking or making me feel excluded. In fact, they were just focused on having their own fun.

The best part? Waking up the next morning and remembering it all.

I didn’t question what I had said the night before. I wasn’t trying to piece together a night I’d blacked out. Again.

I was completely present.

And yes, I spent a little bit of time feeling awkward and maybe a tad out of place, but waking up the next morning and being able to participate in life matters way more than those brief periods of discomfort.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

Eventually that pink cloud in sobriety disappears and life starts getting challenging again. For me, this occurred about a year into my sobriety. A family member was in crisis and suddenly, I was in the middle of it too.

I was not equipped to handle the situation…at all. For the first time in a long time, I could feel that old instinct to escape. I could sense my sobriety was at risk.

Thankfully, one of those sayings they constantly repeat in the rooms popped into my head: Ask for help.

I called up my closest friend from the rooms, and she created a space for me to be vulnerable. I had spent the last 48 hours operating on pure adrenaline and I hadn’t stopped to allow myself a moment to feel or process what was happening in front of me.

I cried. I expressed that I wasn’t sure I could handle it alone. I asked for help.

She showed up at my door an hour later.

Together we navigated the crisis, and she stayed with me until I felt safe again.

In those moments, she taught me that it’s okay to ask for help—a lesson I have continued to use throughout any other challenges that have occurred when life gets difficult.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

Sobriety has given me so much over the years and I feel beyond grateful.

Some gifts occur naturally: stability in my relationship, becoming a reliable employee again, and being a trustworthy friend and daughter.

Some gifts have been big and exciting: a house, a dog, and a wedding in the near future.

Some have been unexpected: finding a soulmate in a friendship I never would have found without entering the rooms.

But the most important gift has been discovering myself and figuring out what brings me fulfillment.

I spent much of my life on autopilot—checking off milestones I was handed and never questioned. Go to school, get a job, secure promotions. I never stopped to think about what I wanted or what would make me happy, and I spent more energy numbing myself than getting to know myself.

In sobriety, I’ve done the opposite. I’ve leaned into curiosity and exploring whatever piques my interest.

In the early days it was simple—long walks, puzzles, books. But those small things created space for bigger ones.

Soon, I was dusting off my keyboard and finding myself writing again. Then I was lacing up my running shoes and training for a 10K. Passions that I had when I was younger that eventually got clouded by the alcohol.

Without alcohol taking up so much space, I finally had room to ask what I actually liked. I’m excited to see what other passions are left to be uncovered and where my journey of self-discovery leads.

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

Don’t get wrapped up in thinking about a forever when it comes to your life without alcohol. You don’t need to know how you’ll toast at your wedding or handle every future tragedy. Your job right now is to simply do the next right thing.

Get up. Get through today. Accept help. Build slowly.

Eventually, all those choices that felt so small will compound into a life that looks far better than anything you could have tried to envision.

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Lala. We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

Leave a comment

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

I did not realize it beforehand, but a GPS would lead me to greater self-awareness about where I am in life.

I began to think about the difference between being and doing on a recent trip. What did we do before GPS maps? Really, it was not very long ago that we had to navigate using “old-timey” maps or by some person’s directions.

We are now beholden to GPS maps to the degree that taking them away would institute chaos on our roads. Every person, now, is an expert explorer who can go anywhere at any time as long as they have that gentle voice telling them what to do next.

I traveled to a new city for a job interview. The drive mostly consisted of an Interstate, and as I was making my journey, traffic slowed down to a complete stop on this major road. After spending several minutes at a standstill, an alert on my phone notified me of a terrible wreck ahead and an alternate route that took me through the countryside.

This was a brand-new place, but what did I notice? Nothing.

These winding roads were a nuisance. The quaint houses, the trees, and all the rest were obstacles to overcome. I could not tell you a single thing about what I saw, nothing about the character of these places, because I was focused on going the right way as quickly as possible.

Every GPS relies on a point B. There must be a targeted ending. There must be a goal.

We live in a GPS world where only the destination matters. Let me amend that slightly and say that we only recognize doing as something worth our time; pursuits that have goals and end with something tangible.

This mentality is usually applied to recovery from substance use. We like to measure our recovery in the number of days, weeks, months, or years sober. People talk about the AA steps and which ones we have mastered.

It has been five years sober for me, but do I feel like some victory has been achieved? No. Plus, I find there are other criteria to judge how I am doing in my fight to abstain from alcohol.

The steps have never been the right medicine I needed in my recovery. I have found other things matter more.

During my journey to the big city, I used GPS to navigate the many curvy roads that took me through many unknown rural places. I must say that my mood was not pleasant. I was unsure if I was going the right way and became anxious I would not make my appointment on time.

Thankfully I arrived at the interview ahead of schedule. I had spent lots of time preparing, and I looked the part. The interview was for a teaching position—and teaching has been a passion of mine for several years now. I was well-rehearsed for every question, remembered to wear a smile, and felt calm and confident.

Still, I did not get the job. This caused a depression that I did not see coming. Not getting what I want has been an unfortunate theme in my life.

I asked myself several questions. Had I not done everything I was supposed to do? Did I not follow the directions most often offered as to how to land that job? And this was more than a job, as it represented a new future that I have been building for years.

I worried that I would return to drinking. There was so much promise wrapped up in these interviews (two, actually), and the results left me hurt and unsure of what to do next. I could smell my drug of choice and think of acquiring some. All it takes sometimes is one thought to form and then one is right back coping with life in the old way.

To understand why this outcome felt like a tragedy, we have to go back in time several years.

In my childhood, I was always the outsider, and this continued even until recent years before my recovery. Alcohol was many things to me, and one of its uses became an escape from an unpleasant reality where I did not belong.

The road that led me to this city and this interview had already taken many twists and turns. Along the way, I never developed an identity. Recently, I have realized that art (writing specifically) is crucial to my sense of self.

As a child, nothing about art was amenable to the nuts and bolts of living, and I supposed only people I did not know cared about it. There were no mentors. I wagered that people on television and in the movies might feel something as I did, but they were far away in every sense possible.

My ambitions were mostly related to not falling into the trap that others apparently had no problem living out year by year. It is not that I perceived others as suckers of some sort, but I surely did not comprehend what made the workaday life anything to smile about. Yet, people did all the time.

Alcohol once robbed me of all thoughts about art and confirmed that my childhood wishes were dead. With a career on the horizon, I assumed, I could finally start over. My past mistakes no longer mattered. My success story was complete.

That day I stepped on campus for my interview was to be the culmination of a life turnaround. This was the final stage in a recovery where I found both belonging and an identity.

You see, if my life were a hero’s journey, getting that job equaled slaying my monsters that caused me to abuse a drug. If my life were a movie, this is when the good guy proves his heroism and makes everything okay again. This was validation.

What if Luke Skywalker ultimately turned to the dark side instead of saving his father? Think about Frodo in Lord of the Rings and imagine if he succumbed to temptation and did not destroy the One Ring. These things were not supposed to happen. If they did, audiences would be confused and disappointed.

My point of view has not been healthy. Like society tells us, I have judged myself based on results and where I am supposed to be in my story.

It is being that I refused to do that day on the detour from the Interstate. Like most people, I got nervous when my GPS started to whirl around and give me a new set of directions.

Like art, driving simply for the thrill of seeing something new, or taking in pastoral scenes, is deemed a waste of time in a world obsessed with outcomes.

It would be easy here to say that I never wanted that job or that it was a trap. Yet, I do not feel that is true.

What is true is that I felt ashamed for not getting to the next point on the map. I let myself down and all people who know me. After all, with all the work I put in, there must be a result. There must be a doing—performing a job that is synonymous with performing life. The end result is the only proof we allow of progressing, of establishing a person as a good, upstanding citizen.

I wanted to return to the places and people of my life like a warrior, a champion. It sucks having to tell people, who ask questions through their smiles, that no, I did not get the job. Their faces instantly turned to disappointment.

What depressed me is that, because of my failure, I could not hold my head high. Because of not doing the work of a teacher, that meant I was not a teacher at all.

Maybe it is time to drop the map altogether. I have been volunteering in mental health, which is something that I never imagined as a boy. In short, I have been devoting my time to teaching every day.

I look at my work now with some zeal to enlighten others and teach what I have learned. My career as a teacher is in limbo, but part of my new, second life is to figure out how to do what I want and need while contributing to solutions instead of problems. One thing I have done is begin to document my life for my own well-being and for the instruction of others.

Writing came into the picture. Finally, I have returned to my first love: art.

My recent teaching and my work writing must not be illegitimate because no one is paying me for what I do. My GPS mind must contend with the reality that I am being who I am and want to be, despite being rerouted on the road of life.

For me, the steps cannot be that mechanism that keeps me from substance abuse. I must be a whole person. I must have an identity.

These are the things, in the bigger picture, that shield me from those thoughts that led me to want to escape life.

I can always be even if I am not doing. I can slow down and enjoy the scenery. This is easy to forget in our world full of destinations, but I must try.

How do you balance being and doing in sobriety? We’d love to hear in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap the heart? It helps more people find this work and supports our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

has taught at the college level for many years after earning his Ph.D. in History. He has personal experience with both mental illness and addiction and speaks to groups on a variety of related topics. He is the author of My Own Ashes: A Hero’s Journey With Mental Illness and Addiction. You can find his newsletter at The Mind-Soul Sanctum.

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

When and how did you get sober?

The first time I went to a recovery meeting was in early July of 2020. It was around lunchtime and I realized I was drunk…again. In the middle of the day. At the office. I’d accomplished very little that day except getting to my office.

I called a friend who I knew was sober and had been for many years. He told me there was a 12-step meeting nearby. I could walk to it. They were meeting in-person even though it was during COVID.

I showed up about five minutes after the start time, took a picture of the church basement door, and walked back to my office. Made a cup of coffee, rested, and went home.

By early August, after pretending to attend meetings and actually going to an outpatient treatment program, I was still drinking (and thinking I was getting away with it). Until I wasn’t. I was caught. I agreed to go to a 30-day inpatient treatment program.

Nine days after leaving that program, I drank again. And was asked to leave my house. I lived in a hotel for a while, drank off and on, and sometimes actually went to recovery meetings.

After 60 days of being sober, I was invited back home. And then on a Tuesday, with nearly 100 days alcohol-free, I drank again. 9:30 in the morning. In bed “resting” by 1 p.m.

After I woke up, I took the bottle and poured what was left down the drain. I called a guy from a phone list, and he suggested I rest some more, go to a meeting the next day, and call him back once I’d found a sponsor. So, I did—I went to the morning meeting, waited until the end, and asked a guy to help me out. He agreed. That was in January of 2021. I’ve been on an alcohol-free path ever since.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

The turning point for me was that seemingly random Tuesday in January of 2021. Almost exactly one year before, I’d admitted I had a problem and agreed to see a therapist who specialized in addiction. He gave me several suggestions, none of which I wanted to take. So, I didn’t.

2020 was the worst for me—because I knew I had a problem, but couldn’t seem to stop or stay stopped. I was figuring it out alone. And what I figured out was I couldn’t stop on my own.

When I found myself alone in a bed in the middle of the day (again), I was done. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So, I finally gave up and asked for help—and it turns out, all the things the therapist suggested were things I was now willing to do.

What surprised you about getting sober?

There was (and is) a level of clarity beyond what I even remember before I started drinking. The fog lifted after a bit of time, and then life kept getting clearer. After about nine months, I just felt—light, free. Better than I can remember feeling. And, while life always has ups and downs, I’ve felt calm, confident, not afraid. So far, the clarity continues to sharpen—I was not expecting to be entering my 50s with a mind that feels sharper than it has since my 20s.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

The biggest challenge for me has been that same clarity I so enjoy. I can now see events of the past in a new light—see the impact my behavior had on me and on others. Those flashbacks hurt. I want to erase those moments, and I can’t. I know that if I drank, I could get a temporary reprieve—but that I would also be likely to cause more pain. I try now to allow myself to feel the pain of those moments and let it pass. That can mean taking walks or going to a quiet place—much healthier coping mechanisms than consuming large quantities of alcohol.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

I am fully present all the time. When things happen, I can remain calm—calm enough to pause, to assess, and to take action. I like the life I have now—it’s a beautiful one, a gift. I wake up every day thankful to be here, thankful for a chance to be of service one more day.

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

Keep going. My sobriety journey wasn’t a straight line. I spent a long, hard year “figuring it out.” Some days, I feel like I’m still figuring it out. But I’m not drinking now. There are lots of avenues for help—ask. And if what you try first doesn’t feel right or doesn’t fit, keep asking—keep seeking until you find a path that works for you.

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Andy. We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

Leave a comment

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

Below, you’ll find stories about resisting change—and what happens when we stop negotiating and do what we most need to do. You’ll also find reflections from four, six, and nine years into sobriety, and reminders of how we help each other along. Finally, expect a hit of joy, inspiration, and an expansive sense of how much bigger life becomes when we’re no longer arranging our thoughts, lives, and relationships around alcohol.

Join the conversation by sharing your favorite alcohol-free writers and resources in the comments. If you’re sober, feel free to include a link to your own publication or website. We celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

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Milestones

• On Four Years of Sobriety,

• Six Years Sober + Three Little Words,

• 9 Years Alcohol Free. The Invisible Shifts,

Ready for change

• It sucks when we want to change and also want to stay the same,

• Dream Big Kid,

Along the way

• Anything but the alcohol,

• Intoxicatingly Sober,

• In Defense of the Extreme Sober Hobby,

• Anything but Inventory,

In it together

• Why I Used to Hate Hearing People ‘Thank God’ For My Addiction Recovery,

• Why We Don’t Recover Alone,

Do you have any sober reads, resources, or recommendations to share? We’d love to hear from you in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap that little heart? It lets others know there’s something helpful here and grows our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

The first twenty-nine years of my life were mostly chaotic and fast for that reason. Those years were about everyone else at first, trying to manage everyone’s addictions without knowing it. Always wishing and hoping things would magically change because I couldn’t make that decision for them.

Then, as I grew up and made the same choices, I began wishing and hoping things would magically change because I didn’t want to do the work. Nothing about that life was routine, nor was it simple. There was absolutely nothing I could count on from day to day.

Since hitting one year of sobriety (August 2—yay!), I’ve been trying to think less about that time and really focus on what recovery means to me. I’ve been overcomplicating it, though, because that’s all I knew. My fight-or-flight response is constantly engaged, and I’m ready for the worst at every turn. I wasn’t wired for a guaranteed quiet session of journaling in the morning with my steamy cup of coffee like clockwork. Routine is new to me.

I tend to harp on my mornings, as you will see. I think that’s a common theme in sobriety, actually. The stark difference in a morning before sobriety and a morning after sobriety is enough to understand why. But life looks starkly different—although not always or often easier—before and after sobriety, so what makes mornings so special?

A morning before sobriety in my life went a lot like this: wake up to the pounding of my heart on my chest wall. Roll over to see that it’s only 3:00 in the morning. Go to the bathroom, heave up what I can. Go back to bed. Lie there, anxiety-ridden until I can take it no more. Open up my phone for some doomscrolling or turn on the TV to find a comfort show to hopefully tire my eyes out. Eventually fall back into a fitful hour or two of sleep before I’m met with my alarm. Snooze. Snooze. Snooze. Oh, shit, I’m late. Fly out of bed for a quick shower, no breakfast, maybe some water, and I’m out the door to begin my day hungover and still full of anxiety.

And all of that after I had promised myself a night of no drinking so I could wake up and give myself the morning that I deserve, to start my day with a semblance of self-respect.

My mornings in sobriety look like this: wake up to my bird-chirping alarm, with its built-in faux sunlight feature to mimic the sunrise. Snooze. Snooze. Because no matter the state of my life, I’m a snoozer. Get up, go sit my ass on the most comfortable chair at my kitchen island and make myself a steamy, delicious cup of coffee. After water, of course. I’m not a monster. Grab my pen and journal and get to writing, reflecting, and sipping. After the allotted hour, I then get ready with ample time and start my day. No hangover. No anxiety (or very little). And a bucket of self-respect. Every. Single. Day.

In a nutshell, that’s the reason I harp on mornings. They’re extraordinary because they make the promise I keep to myself abundantly clear every day upon rising. Waking up feels like a little celebration when you’re clear-headed and sure of yourself.

I can’t predict what each new day will bring, but I have at least taken my mornings back. Each night when I go to bed, I know exactly what is waiting for me on the other side of sleep. I have something to look forward to, something I can count on, and something I’ve curated just for me.

Johnny Cash was allegedly asked in an interview what his idea of paradise is. He famously—and allegedly—responded, this morning, with her, having coffee.

Now, I don’t know if there’s actually any official record of any kind of this interview. But I really enjoy the sentiment. The simple nature of a morning with someone you love and a hot cup of joe signifies paradise for him.

I know that for him it implied his love for June Carter. But to me, this morning, having coffee is a little love letter to myself. That is peak recovery. Nothing flashy, nothing extreme; just one simple act of love I’ve given myself every single morning.

What do your mornings look like in sobriety? We’d love to hear in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap the heart? It helps more people find this work and supports our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

was born and raised in Oklahoma, where she currently lives with her husband, Gustavo, and two dogs, Frank and Helen. By day, she works as a court reporter. By night, she attends community college working towards a degree in journalism. In her free time, Shea writes, reads, tends to her plants, and travels wherever she can as much as she can. She explores life through the seasons in her blog, .

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

When and how did you get sober?

I got sober in 2016 when my dad kept inviting me to church. I had shown up at my mom’s house, strung out and needing a place to crash. She agreed to let me stay at her house to detox until I could find (another) treatment program. I had been in treatment six times that never seemed to work.

When I entered my mom’s house, it felt warm. I felt safe. I couldn’t understand why. However, my mom told me she had been praying and fasting for me—asking God to set me free from addiction. This just so happened to be “Good Friday.”

Well, that same day my dad called me. He said he heard I was at my mom’s house and asked if I would join him at church Sunday. I said no at first. I told him I would be too sick. My dad replied with “Sunday is Easter.” I still turned him down. His third try he said “Sunday is my birthday. Will you come to church with me for my birthday?” I finally agreed.

When I went to church I was so sick. I wanted to just stay out of the way. But then at the end of service the preacher said something I’ll never forget. He told the congregation of 500 or so people. If anyone in the room had been living without purpose, they should come to the altar and give their life to Christ and he assured us we would have purpose.

When he said that it was as if a light appeared in my dark world. I thought could this be it? Is this what could get me clean and sober? So I ran to the altar and gave my life to Jesus Christ. I knew I was different that very moment. That day was March 27, 2016 and that is my sobriety date. I have been changed since that day! Coincidence? I think not.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

Well, I had tried to get sober several times. It all started when the police raided my home and busted me for trafficking. I had to serve time. Getting sober in jail was hard but it started that way. It just never stuck. I was a slave to drugs and alcohol.

It wasn’t until I heard that my life would have purpose if I gave it to God. That was the turning point. Living for something bigger than myself. All of my life up to that point I had tried to find my purpose in the world and nothing worked. Money, stuff, relationships…nothing satisfied me. I felt like my life had no meaning so the drugs made me feel better until they took everything from me. When I got saved, my life had purpose, and I got clean!

What surprised you about getting sober?

I was surprised at how great my life is. I actually like myself now. I found my people. My best friends I have today I met in rehab and we’re all still like brothers. Me and one of my best friends married sisters so my best friend is now my brother-in-law. I have a wonderful wife, beautiful kids, my dream career, and a life worth living. I never thought this kind of meaningful life was possible for me.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

I realized the rest of the world still drinks even though I don’t. It’s disappointing when people disregard my feelings about it and choose to drink around me. I take my recovery very seriously and had to stop going to functions when people would be drinking. I assumed more people would have enough respect not to drink around me since I’m sober. It’s okay though. I can only control my actions, no one else’s.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

I share my story with others and hopefully give them hope. I’ve been told by many people that my story has positively affected their lives. I help people get sober now. I have the honor of running a rehab. It’s so cool to live where the grass truly is greener.

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

I just want to encourage you to keep going because it just gets better and better. Someone needs to hear your story. It may be someone else’s survival guide. Also, try Jesus. I tried everything in the world to get me clean and sober and nothing worked until I decided to follow Jesus.

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Jordan! We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

Leave a comment

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

And while we absolutely celebrate the gifts and delightful surprises of sobriety here, we don’t shy away from the hard parts. Talking about challenges can feel like an exhale, or even soften the struggle. It also helps others recognize themselves in what’s being shared.

With that in mind, and recognizing that everyone’s experience is different and sobriety doesn’t look the same for everyone, we wanted to ask our sober community:

What’s been the biggest challenge on your alcohol-free journey?

We ask this in the My Sobriety Story series and have pulled together some recent responses below. You can find the full stories here.

We’d love to hear from you, too. Please share in the comments.

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“There was one night, early on, when I looked at my husband during dinner, started angry crying, and told him I was fucking done with this. That it was too hard to be alone in my own mind at that hour, with two demanding kids underfoot, without a drink to take the edge off.

In that moment, the alcohol-induced haze felt so much more familiar than sitting with my own feelings. Why was I doing this to myself? Was I seriously expected to white knuckle my way through life from now on?

Ethan gave me space, but also some tough love. He’d been on his own sober journey, so he knew firsthand that the early days are the hardest, and he told me I owed it to myself to get through them before deciding anything. He reminded me that I was one of the most stubborn, disciplined people he knew—and suggested this might finally be a productive use for those qualities.

So I kept going. And he was right. The first thirty days were by far the hardest for me. After that, the benefits started to compound. I committed to a new workout routine, set better boundaries at work, and continued to integrate the lessons from my psychedelic experiences. Eventually, my alcohol-free identity became more solid.” —

“The single greatest challenge was navigating the agonizing years between 2017 and 2020 while trapped under the crushing weight of social FOMO and the societal binary lie around addiction. Back in February 2018, I had a horrific night where I spent hours on the bathroom floor, clutching the toilet for dear life and violently throwing up bile without even a 30-second break.

Yet, despite enduring that physical rock bottom, it still took me almost three years to actually get sober, proving that arbitrary rock bottoms aren’t enough on their own to create lasting change. Compounding that physical struggle was the debilitating fear of losing my identity. I was always the ‘hostess with the mostest’—the ringleader who organized the parties, happy hours, and wine tastings.

The thought of being ‘othered’ or ousted from my friend group was unfathomable. At the time, I believed society’s binary lie that you are either a ‘normal drinker’ or an ‘alcoholic.’ Discovering the concept of gray area drinking literally saved my life. Learning that drinking exists on a broad spectrum stripped the shame out of the equation.

It allowed me to drop the self-judgment, stop feeling helpless, and focus on healing my physiology.” —

“Facing emotions and having conversations I had formerly decided I was taking to the grave. I really avoided my emotional world while drinking and had built a lot of friendships and habits out of convenience and dishonesty. I truly did not know I was allowed to be an active participant in my life. Alcoholism stole that from me.

Rebuilding and being honest, understanding that I cannot and should not take the back seat of my own life felt impossible for a couple years, but now it is the best thing ever. I get to chase my damn dreams, I really did not think that was an option for me!” —

“Learning that it’s OK to feel bad. My goal for most of life was to feel good all the time. I chased that permanent feeling of bliss in every drink.

The funny thing about bad feelings (and I’ve since learned any emotion) is that they go away eventually. I also love the acronym for HOPE:

Hang
On
Pain
Ends

If I sit long enough and pick up the phone or a book, meditate, or pray, the transition goes faster. I have a set of tools now that I didn’t have before.” —

“The hardest part for me is moving on from the wreckage my drinking caused. Another let-down, another broken promise, another ‘episode.’ I try not to carry the shame of what I did, but the reminders of what life was like back then still creep in.

I’ve realized I can’t ignore the past or pretend it didn’t happen, but I also won’t let it define my character. Those things are not who I am at my core. At the same time, I did those things. I own them; I don’t deny them. They’re part of my story—but they won’t be the headline. The real story is being rewritten every day.

I’m constantly working to rebuild trust with my family and loved ones. It’s a slow process and there’s only so much I can control. I can’t make someone trust me again. All I can do is be honest—with them and with myself—and focus on doing ‘the next right thing.’ I’ll never erase the past, but I will learn from it, and I will prove that I’m the man I’m intended to be.” —

What’s been the biggest challenge on your alcohol-free journey?

Please share in the comments. And before you go, would you take a second to tap that little heart? It lets others know there’s something helpful here and grows our sober community.

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When and how did you get sober?

My relationship with alcohol stretched across twenty years, during which I lived almost entirely in what coach defines as the “gray area” of drinking: the space between every-now-and-again drinking and end-stage drinking.

On the surface, my life looked totally normal; I was organized, successful, and socially active. But behind closed doors, things began escalating in 2017, and by 2018 and 2019, I had left the gray area and entered what I call the danger zone. I was no longer drinking for pleasure. I was drinking to feel normal, because when I wasn’t drinking, the cravings were unbearable.

Real, lasting momentum began in early 2020, right before the world shut down. I found a new therapist who started teaching me Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) skills, and my husband Evan and I welcomed our dog into our lives on January 7, 2020, which grounded me tremendously.

I started immersing myself in Quitlit, finding incredible voices like Annie Grace, Laura McKowen, and Jolene Park through her TED Talk. When the pandemic lockdowns hit, it unexpectedly gave me the physical separation from social environments and bars that used to trip me up.

Before that, I kept trying to force myself to fit into my current social life, but my nervous system was simply unprepared cognitively, emotionally, and physically to handle those situations. I felt like a fragile butterfly trying to transform while fighting the transformation itself.

Throughout 2020, for the first time in years, I was accumulating days, weeks, and even months of sobriety. But from time to time, life would feel unmanageable, and I would turn to drinking. On January 1, 2021, I drank for the last time.

Deep in my gut, I knew I had had enough and that there was a missing piece to this drinking puzzle that I was determined to find. Over the next few days, I scoured the internet until I revisited Jolene Park’s work on healing physiological cravings and body-based nervous system regulation.

It was like ding, ding, ding! I hired Jolene as my Gray Area Drinking Coach that very week, and I have never looked back.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

It started during Christmas week of 2020. I had built up so much progress throughout the year, but as the holidays approached, a series of stressful events dysregulated my nervous system, and that old pull came creeping back. I started sneaking alcohol again, telling myself it wasn’t that bad while hiding it from Evan.

The cravings had never really gone away during those white-knuckling months and weeks. The grip just wasn’t as strong. But once I reintroduced alcohol that week around Christmas, they came back with such a vengeance, and suddenly I was thinking about alcohol morning, noon, and night.

It all culminated on January 1, 2021, when I blacked out on the porch in broad daylight. I woke up to Evan shaking me, and the sheer terror in his eyes is something I will never, ever forget.

In that instant, I realized that despite all the breaks I had taken in 2020, I hadn’t cured a single thing. If I kept drinking, my life was going to be Groundhog Day: the same thing over and over and over.

As the alcohol was leaving my body that evening, everything clicked. I told myself: “I am never drinking again, and I am going to figure this out once and for all.” For years I drank alcohol in the gray area, but my forever decision to stop is very black and white.

What surprised you about getting sober?

The most surprising revelation of my entire journey was learning that knowing something doesn’t change something; doing something changes something.

For years, I drove myself crazy asking why I couldn’t stop drinking when I was reading all the books, listening to all the podcasts, and understanding the science. Through somatic coaching, I realized that deep behavioral change is directed by the emotional, limbic, animal brain. That part of the brain doesn’t process language or logic; it understands sensation, physiological state, and emotion.

My very first homework assignment from Jolene was simply to check in every single day and state what I was noticing. I had never practiced noticing before. It wasn’t about analyzing how I felt intellectually, but rather tuning into somatic physical signals—like body temperature, stress, or circulation—before flipping into an emotional reaction.

Once I noticed those body signals, I could use a somatic tool like taking a walk, watching the sunset, or doing breathwork, and then notice again if that tool helped carry me through the wave of dysregulation or craving.

Building that daily emotional regulation accumulated into true emotional agency, transforming me from a victim of my cravings into someone who held the power.

I was also completely shocked by how much my social life expanded after quitting. I used to think I would be miserable and isolated forever without alcohol.

Instead, my world opened up. I discovered a vibrant global community, and today I still host parties and bring people together around amazing food and non-alcoholic drinks. Feeling this naturally happy without alcohol was something I never dreamed was possible.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

The single greatest challenge was navigating the agonizing years between 2017 and 2020 while trapped under the crushing weight of social FOMO and the societal binary lie around addiction. Back in February 2018, I had a horrific night where I spent hours on the bathroom floor, clutching the toilet for dear life and violently throwing up bile without even a 30-second break.

Yet, despite enduring that physical rock bottom, it still took me almost three years to actually get sober, proving that arbitrary rock bottoms aren’t enough on their own to create lasting change. Compounding that physical struggle was the debilitating fear of losing my identity. I was always the “hostess with the mostest”—the ringleader who organized the parties, happy hours, and wine tastings.

The thought of being “othered” or ousted from my friend group was unfathomable. At the time, I believed society’s binary lie that you are either a “normal drinker” or an “alcoholic.” Discovering the concept of gray area drinking literally saved my life. Learning that drinking exists on a broad spectrum stripped the shame out of the equation.

It allowed me to drop the self-judgment, stop feeling helpless, and focus on healing my physiology.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

The ultimate gift of my sobriety is true emotional sobriety: shifting from being a reactive person to somebody who responds to life. There is a beautiful quote attributed to Viktor Frankl that captures it: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” For me, that space is the pause. Being able to notice my body’s physical cues and self-regulate my nervous system in real time feels like an absolute superpower.

It is an internal grounding that serves me every second of every day in my marriage, my personal relationships, and my business. These past five-plus years have been the happiest and healthiest of my life.

Another gift has been reconnecting with awe and wonder, especially through sunsets. The year I got sober, I fell in love with chasing sunsets every evening: watching the clouds and the birds, the sky lighting up gold and pink, the colors changing night after night. I could feel those sunsets in my body, this rush of pure, unadulterated joy. And one evening it hit me: “Wait, I’m not going to the bar from 4 to 7 anymore. Sunsets are my new happy hour!”

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

My number one piece of advice for anyone considering sobriety is to take 30 days off as a curiosity experiment. Give yourself permission to pause for just 30 days and approach that time with gentle curiosity rather than judgment. Your only job during those 30 days is to pay attention and notice what happens physically, mentally, and emotionally.

There are no right or wrong answers. Shift away from terrifying thoughts like “I am quitting forever.” Treat your alcohol-free journey as an ongoing experiment to find what soothes your specific nervous system.

You don’t have to chase sunsets like I do, but you must discover grounding rituals that light you up, regulate your nervous system, and bring you back into your body. And don’t do it alone. Lasting sobriety is rarely done alone. For me, that support came through somatic coaching, therapy, and community.

Learning how alcohol affects the brain was a turning point for me, but applying nervous system regulation is where the real transformation happened. When you restore safety to your body, you gain full access to your logical brain, so you can elevate your life instead of escaping it.

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Kristin! We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

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We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

I moved here in my early twenties to live with four of my friends from Miami in a flat in the Mission. We were all either unemployed or chronically underemployed, so we had a lot of free time on our hands. Most of that time was spent sitting around our kitchen table watching old Golden Girls episodes, drinking vodka tonics, and then going out to nightclubs where we drank and danced til 2 a.m.

A year after I moved here, I met my first real boyfriend. We met at a martini bar on Haight Street that I went to after work one day with a few new co-workers. I hadn’t yet ventured into the world of martinis, as I still preferred a splash of grenadine or juice in the V&Ts I consumed. But the new boyfriend introduced me to a world of booze straight up, and pretty soon my drink of choice became vodka martinis with three olives or Maker’s neat.

When I left the Mission and moved to my own apartment in the Tenderloin, it was an easy jaunt to North Beach. There, the new boyfriend and I would yuck it up at Vesuvius and occasionally Mario’s Cigar Store, where we’d drink the night away, then get into some random trouble like scaling a building via their fire escapes on our way back to my place. I remember one particular boozy evening where we stumbled into an underground Mah Jong den in Chinatown, much to the horrified looks from the patrons. Booze made me brave. Straight-up booze made me invincible.

Fast forward to my new life. My husband and I moved to San Francisco from New York City in May of 2025. We moved so he could start his new dream job in Silicon Valley. His commuting so we could live in the city was the trade-off. I wasn’t going for Silicon Suburbia, so we settled in our place here, which is about ten times more expensive than my last San Francisco pad in the Tenderloin.

Last weekend, we went on an adventure to North Beach. It was only the second or third time I’d been in my old stomping ground since I moved back. Though the hot Italian butcher that I always flirted with, who used to man the counter, had probably retired, Molinari’s remains the same. It looks the same, smells the same, and still has a line snaking through the store filled with hungry people eyeing the gorgeous deli counter, chomping at the bit for their sky-high sandwiches. We started to wait, but the new me hates lines, so we decided to go grab coffee somewhere.

We ended up going to Mario’s. Another place that is steeped in time. The same old photos adorn the walls, the same crack is still in the tile floor near the table I often grabbed. The bar is slightly more patinated with age.

We ordered lattes and shared a panini. There, it hit me. This was the first time I had ever been to this spot sober. The place looks the same, the coffee was as delicious as always, and North Beach itself looks pretty much as it was, save for some stores gone, and some new joints reopened.

It’s me who’s different. It’s not just that I’d aged a lot since my last voyage there. Or that now I was wearing jeans and my new hat, which we had just scored for free at Grafeo Coffee, instead of something short and sparkly. It was that I was clear-headed and fully present. I was sober in North Beach, having a fabulous time in the light of day, completely and authentically. I wasn’t going to stumble home after this round or feel the need to climb a fire escape illegally to feel alive. I already felt alive. And the best part about the day is that the next day I’d wake up sober, and remember everything.

What’s it been like to revisit old places sober? We’d love to hear in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap the heart? It helps more people find this work and supports our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

Candi Cane Canncel is a creative from Miami Beach. She traveled the world working on cruise ships teaching cooking classes and hosting seminars on entertaining. Her writing has appeared in Club Sandwich and The Inquisitive Eater, and she’s been featured as an expert on TLC, HGTV, and the DIY Network. You can find her website here and her newsletter at Fab Living & Design.

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

My final Day One wouldn’t be for another three years, but through that solo trip to the ER, I caught a clear glimpse of who I really was, and it scared me. For decades, I had been able to assuage the nagging feeling that I was not okay. Even after passing out in my seat while attending an interactive dinner theatre on my 41st birthday in 2011, even after waking up to go for a run at 7:30 a.m. only to realize it was 7:30 p.m. after drinking all day and passing out in 2016, I could point to my seemingly successful life as evidence that I was okay.

I was a classic “high-functioning alcoholic.” I had raised three kids on my own, was admired at work, and ran ultramarathons. My outsides were so polished, you could see yourself in them. And because I simply reflected back what people wanted to see, no one could get close enough to see that the glass cage I had built was seriously cracked.

The day prior to that emergency room visit in 2019, I wrote in my bright orange journal:

“I hit a brick wall that woke me up. I basically was drunk for a day and a half straight and didn’t leave the house or shower. It’s horrible to behave so out of control and I had to face that is what alcohol does to me when I am using it to suppress my anxiety.”

I went on to write that I texted with my sisters that day about my struggles, hoping to gain support and accountability. I began Day One the following day, and ended up taking a ride share to the hospital because I thought I might be dying.

Alone again, without the help or accountability I hoped for, after a week alcohol free, I convinced myself I must have been imagining my alcohol problem. I went back to drinking, blacking out, and performing impressively in all aspects of life. On the inside, the anxiety, shame, and unhappiness ironically compelled me not to abstain, but to use the poison that was also their main source of fuel more excessively.

In November 2022, once again I found myself in urgent care, again feeling like I was dying. Life as a high-functioning alcoholic was wearing me down. I dreamed of getting sober and wished desperately that someone would stage an intervention, because no matter how many Day Ones I grasped onto, I just couldn’t do it by myself, and each one slipped from my shaky fingers. Despite moving from the city to the suburbs the year prior, the performance followed me, and I held it aloft and kept it moving like I imagine those people inside bright red Chinese New Year dragons hold their section of gigantic puppetry.

In my light blue paper hospital gown, seeing my twenty-six-year-old son sitting next to me looking so calm in the face of what felt like rock bottom to me, I knew in my bones I had to close up my little production. I knew I had to make my dream of living alcohol free become a reality.

Here’s what worked for me:

1. I told the right people about my struggle. I had to find people who would truly be in my corner, not those attached to the shiny version of me. My sisters were not those people. In our family, performance of being admirable is valued above anything else—even supporting the family member who direly needs help. I instead found help and accountability in recovery spaces.

2. I made it my mission to discover who I truly was. I had been performing for so many years, I didn’t know who I was or what I liked. I just knew I was someone who wanted to be free of alcohol for good. From that north star, I stepped out of spaces where the performance slipped on too easily, and pushed myself into areas where my credentials, appearance, and status meant nothing. For me, this meant taking classes in astrology, ballroom dance, herbal medicine, jiu jitsu, writing, and yoga. I found the things that ignited a spark and that kept me moving toward my future, and I nurtured my interest.

3. I let go of people who were not 100% aligned with my path to freedom. I know this is a tough one. Trust me, though. You may not even have to be dramatic about moving on, as some relationships will organically fall away as you grow toward your authentic self. Once you start being who you truly are, living aligned to your highest good, new people will show up. They will support your desire to live your best life and want to share it with you.

I was compelled to write this piece because someone I love didn’t survive the performance of the high-functioning alcoholic. My beloved younger brother, an accomplished lawyer, dapper dresser, superb grill master, and champion of the underdog died on June 22, 2026 at the age of fifty-four. He always encouraged me to write, and I know he will be extra proud if my writing helps anyone break free from whatever is holding them back from living their best life.

If you’re sober, what worked for you? We’d love to hear in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap the heart? It helps more people find this work and supports our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

helps others live freely and authentically, empowered by the wisdom of their soul and expressed through their unique energy. In 2024, she left a 29-year career in corporate pharma to begin a practice using spiritual modalities for healing and support. She writes the Substack newsletter Astrology, Alchemy, & Honest Recovery and hosts the podcast Conscious Curiosities. Her work has been featured in publications such as Story Circle Network and Sober App Substack. Her practice includes astrology, tarot, hypnosis, herbalism, dreamwork, and psychic mediumship.

Want to be published on Sober.com? If you’re sober and interested in contributing, we’d love to hear from you. Reach out to our newsletter manager here for submission guidelines. We welcome and celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

What that means in practice is that no two experiences look exactly the same. What supports one person might not resonate with another—and what works at one stage of sobriety may shift over time.

With that in mind, and recognizing that not every piece of advice will be for everyone (but might be exactly what someone else needs), we wanted to ask our sober community:

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

We ask this in the My Sobriety Story series and have pulled together some recent responses below. You can find the full stories here.

Whether you’re sober curious and looking for inspiration, navigating a tough stretch, or feeling steady in your sobriety and wanting to reflect and connect, we hope you’ll find this collective wisdom reassuring, encouraging, and a reminder that you’re not alone.

We’d love to hear from you, too. What advice would you offer someone who’s newly sober or thinking about it? Please share in the comments.

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“You don’t have to wait until alcohol has destroyed your life. And you don’t have to prove your problem is worse than anyone else’s. The line between this is fine and this is a problem is almost entirely internal, and only you can draw it for yourself. What are you drinking to avoid? What are you trying not to feel?

Also, you don’t have to solve forever today. Try one day. Then thirty. Then sixty. Once the fog of shame starts to lift, it will be much harder to go back to your old way of living.” —

“Getting sober sucks, staying sober is fucking awesome. Find people who are living their lives fully while sober. Don’t listen to anyone who says it makes life duller. And remind yourself, if alcohol actually fixed anything, you’d be somewhere else by now.” —

“There will still be good days and bad days, happy days and sad days. But overall, things improve. Relationships mend. Sleep gets better. Your body starts to recover.

Don’t rush the process or expect everything to be fixed right away. Enjoy the journey, notice the small changes, and look forward to even more good things ahead. Give yourself time—and let the good things happen.” —

“I remember being at meetings and hearing some of the old timers talk. One in particular would always say that being sober has given him a life beyond anything he could hope for. In the beginning, I didn’t understand what he meant. But I kept going to meetings and taking it one day at a time. I can say that I have a life beyond what I could have hoped for.

The journey hasn’t been a straight line. All I can say is you can keep moving forward one day at a time. If you choose AA, find a couple of meetings that resonate with you or move on. If you don’t think AA is for you, then find people who are on the same journey and keep them close. Don’t be afraid to get professional help; I have, and it has been so beneficial.” —

“Believe in the unbelievable. If you haven’t yet progressed to the physical addiction state, then you likely still see alcohol as an enabler. If you have, then you know that it’s not, but you can’t imagine a way out of the cycle. In either case, true sobriety will free you to accomplish and experience things you can’t currently imagine.

Do the hard work—the really hard stuff. You’ll need to dismantle the worst of you to free the best of you. Be kind to your current self—you’re a work in progress.” —

“I speak at a lot of treatment centers in the area, and I always wear a hat that says ‘Keep going.’ Someone told me once, ‘If you’re going through hell, don’t stop,’ and that just really stuck with me. Life is full of ups and downs, but a drink will never make it better.” —

“If you’ve read this far and you are sober curious, this is what you need to know: you are worthy to give it a try. You are worthy of a big, beautiful life. Give yourself 30 days. If you can honestly say your life is worse after 30 days alcohol-free, then drinking will always be there for you to return to. It’s not going anywhere. It’s hard to drink, and it’s hard to stop drinking—pick your hard.” —

What’s one piece of advice that made a difference for you, or that you wish you had heard sooner?

Please share in the comments. And before you go, would you take a second to tap that little heart? It lets others know there’s something helpful here and grows our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community!

Knowing that I was no longer arranging any part of my life around alcohol brought tremendous relief physically, mentally, and spiritually. My body and mind felt lighter, clearer, more spacious. I experienced deeper, sounder sleep than I had for perhaps my whole life. I experienced significant, life-changing reduction in depression and anxiety. I experienced a deeper, more embodied connection to Nature, Source, intuition, and spirit.

Quitting alcohol entirely—without negotiation or moderation—was by far the most impactful thing I’ve done to boost my confidence and lessen my feelings of shame. This includes confidence in my core values, as well as confidence in my resilience and capacity to stand in life—to really be here without numbing out.

And yes, yes: my skin is brighter and less puffy, my perimenopausal symptoms have subsided, and my metabolism and immune system are far more robust.

Know what though? Those more-or-less expected changes aren’t even the whole of it—just as giving up an addictive substance isn’t the whole of sobriety.

For me, quitting alcohol was an essential first step. That alone changed my trajectory.

But then came the less expected part. Because only then did I massively expand my capacity to 1) see, name, and take accountability for my patterns and how I’m the common denominator across my life—regardless of what others “did to me,” and 2) forgive others and see their humanness even when our history holds hurt.

My biggest surprises—and greatest gifts in sobriety—live there.

I also discovered that in changing ourselves—in reaching a place of knowing and doing what we need to do to save the only life we can save—a surprising thing happens: some of our nearest and dearest do change. When we change, so does every single relationship in our life.

Some of this is other people actually changing—including in ways we most welcome and least expect. Some of it is that our experience of them changes. In changing ourselves, it couldn’t be otherwise. Together, this births a new “we” into being.

Of course, everyone’s experience of sobriety is different. And one of the things I love most about this space is that we welcome and honor this difference, even as we celebrate all that we share.

With that in mind, I wanted to ask our sober community:

What surprised you about getting sober?

We ask this in the My Sobriety Story series, so I’ve pulled together some recent responses below. You can find the full stories here.

We’d love to hear from you, too. Did quitting alcohol come with surprises, whether early on or years into sobriety? Please share in the comments.

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“The real surprise is that my life feels so much fuller now. When I was contemplating getting sober, I expected it to drain the color out of things—that I’d be doomed to a boring, sterile existence. This hasn’t happened. If anything, I feel more alive than I did when I was drinking.

I also feel like I’m finally walking a path that’s actually mine. I show up as more myself now—less performance, less anticipating what someone wants from me, more honesty about what I feel and who I actually am. People tend to meet that authenticity with the same energy. I’m not spending so much time managing what I reveal. I’m just there.” —

“That the grayscale does not last forever. I had tried getting sober before but really struggled with the lack of depth and connection I experienced. I was certain that sobriety was dull. The people I was exposed to early in my life who were sober had a certain ache about them that I really couldn’t stomach. Thankfully, the year I got sober I had met some really wild, funny people that had some years of sobriety, and that really did change my belief about what sobriety actually is.

We really do not know what twists and turns life will take, yet I convinced myself I knew how sobriety looked and felt. I couldn’t even conceive that it would be joyful or freeing. But it is ABSOLUTELY both those things and much more.” —

“When I first got sober, I was amazed at the range of human emotions. I had numbed myself for so long that I truly didn’t experience much beyond fear and depression. Hook my emotions up to some sort of electrocardiogram, and I was basically flatlining. Remove the drugs and alcohol, and I began to feel again. First, I relearned what it was like to experience loneliness (despite the fellowship of recovery), confusion, and, yes, anger. Now, though, it was without resorting to drink to manage those emotions.

I began to develop those deep friendships that I denied I even needed—the friendships that happen when you show up honestly, authentically, willing to both talk and listen. I felt a renewed joy, happiness, and pride in my work, and found the beauty again in experiencing nature (backpacking trips, deep-sea fishing, skiing), art (the Whitney in NYC, the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, the de Young in San Francisco), theater, and literature—all without needing to drink. After a few years of sobriety, I had new inspiration and energy in pursuing my own creativity, particularly in writing.” —

“Getting sober was hard. It was hard to walk away from the only life I knew. It was hard to break up with my most trusted confidante, to end it with my best friend and biggest cheerleader. The thing that consumed all my thoughts and time. The one there for me through the good moments and the bad nights.

I began to fear the future more than ever before: How will I experience my wedding without a champagne toast? How can I ever experience a music event again? How can I be an alcoholic at this age? How will I ever stay sober?

But let me tell you, the latter is beyond anything I could have imagined. I never expected my life to be and feel like it is today. I have a purpose. Every day, I feel more and more like my true self. Alcohol was my escape and muse, but I am learning to love myself and to feel the feelings I muted. I attend AA meetings and remember my why. I do not need to hide anymore.” —

“Honestly, I thought life would magically become easier once I got sober. I assumed that if alcohol was the problem, removing it would solve everything.

What surprised me was realizing that life is still hard. Grief still comes. Stress still comes. Conflict still comes. The difference is that now I face those things clearly instead of numbing or avoiding them. Sobriety didn’t remove hardship, but it did give me the capacity to move through it.” —

“I was most surprised by how quickly serenity started to show up. Drinking was my way of trying to control my feelings, ignore frustrations, and numb pain. But when I got sober, a shift happened. I realized pretty quickly what I could control and what I couldn’t.

I have control over the decisions I make, the people I connect with, and my attitude. I do not have control over how others feel, what they do, or the emotions they carry.

Knowing what ‘power’ I actually have in my life helps me move through each day on purpose. It makes every day more manageable, because I know what I can affect—and what I can’t.” —

“The biggest surprise has been the community. For so long, I always thought I was the only one with the issues I had.

Both of my parents died when I was in my early 30s, and my brother is in prison for DUI manslaughter. I had no one around me that could relate. None of my friends had lost parents or had family in prison. But as soon as I entered the rooms of AA, I found people who had experienced all of that. There’s even a woman who has a sister serving nearly the exact same sentence as my brother down to the day.

There’s a placard at the clubhouse I attend that says ‘You are NOT alone.’ I needed to know that. I needed to hear how other people have coped without picking up a drink. I still need that today after almost two years.” —

“My biggest surprise was discovering that a lot of people don’t drink. In my drinking days, I felt everyone drank. I couldn’t believe that life would be worth living without it.

After getting sober, I couldn’t believe all of the joys I had missed while drinking. Suddenly, the joys were just everywhere! The depressive cloak of alcohol in my system was lifted!

I’m also surprised that now alcohol is no longer an option for coping. The craving is GONE, ABSENT, NADA. I am aware, however, that one drink would set me right back down that dark and dreary path. I have no interest in challenging that belief. I’m surprised at the people who left my life, and I’m surprised at the beautiful souls who entered. I’ve learned the language of letting go. Letting go is a key act in maintaining sobriety.” —

“I was amazed that the 12-Step process had worked and that this entirely new guy emerged from the darkness. I was fit, clear-headed, and wide open to life.

And by how much I’d missed by being unavailable to the opportunities that life is constantly offering.” —

What surprised you about getting sober?

Please share in the comments. And before you go, would you take a second to tap that little heart? It lets others know there’s something helpful here and grows our sober community.

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We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community!

is a Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine offering heart-sourced guidance on body-mind-spirit wellness. She manages Sober App Substack and writes PERFECT HUNGER, a newsletter devoted to living a more beautiful, nourishing life.

Below, you’ll find accounts of what had to change when getting sober, including the stories we tell ourselves. You’ll also find reflections from the first 90 days, two years, and even decades into sobriety, along with reminders that there are many reasons not to drink—and all are equally valid.

Finally, seeing as it’s peak summer, we’ve thrown in some inspiration for celebrating and savouring—whether that means sparkling mocktails, a sober girls’ trip, deep rest, or reclaiming your weekends.

Join the conversation by sharing your favorite alcohol-free writers and resources in the comments. If you’re sober, feel free to include a link to your own publication or website. We celebrate all paths to getting and staying alcohol free.

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Summer sober

• Red, White + Bruised: Reclaiming My Freedom from Alcohol,

• The Sober Hostess: Easy Summer Mocktails,

• Your First Sober Girls’ Trip,

• I won’t sacrifice my weekend for alcohol,

• The Rest Alcohol Never Gave Me,

Changing the story

• The Not Drinking Thing,

• “I’m not that bad.” The lie that kept me drinking,

• I Drank to Feel Better. It Made Me Feel Worse.

• No One Saw,

Living alcohol-free

• Somatics of Sobriety,

• Waking Up Two Years Sober,

• Going with the flow,

• The Only Sober Party Girl in The World,

Do you have any sober reads, resources, or recommendations to share? We’d love to hear from you in the comments.

And before you go, would you take a second to tap that little heart? It lets others know there’s something helpful here and grows our sober community.

Leave a comment

We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.

When and how did you get sober?

I’ve known I had a drinking problem since my early 20s, even if academic and professional success made it easy to disguise. Unfortunately, knowing and quitting turned out to be two very different things. Over almost two decades, I managed an embarrassing number of false starts: a dry January here, a “no drinking on weeknights” rule there, a few stretches of thirty days, and two full term pregnancies.

Part of what made quitting so difficult was that I’d always been susceptible to the siren song of a wild night out. I viewed alcohol as a portal to magic. A glass of wine would reliably turn off the part of my brain that was cataloging people’s reactions, tallying the shoulds, and managing how I moved through a room. I believed drinking made me funnier and more relaxed, able to talk to a stranger at a party like we were lifelong pals.

Unfortunately, the portal only opened one way. I could get in, but I couldn’t get out on my own terms. One drink became three, five, whatever, which often summoned a demon version of myself I didn’t recognize. The “fun” nights started costing more than they were worth.

I stopped for good in February 2025. My last drink was a double rum punch at an airport bar in Turks and Caicos, which I slurped down like water. It wasn’t exactly a gritty rock bottom, though I’d had plenty of those over the years. The trip had unraveled on its own: I had to deal with legal stress from the sale of my PR company, my four-year-old daughter got very sick with tonsillitis, and what was supposed to be a vacation turned into an expensive nervous breakdown with an ocean view.

But something was different this time. I was so, so sick of myself. Sick of the excuses, the headaches, the negotiating, the sense that my husband and kids weren’t getting the best of me. I decided I was done, once and for all.

It finally stuck. I’m still a little in awe that I, of all people, really don’t drink.

What was the turning point in your decision to get sober?

Since college, when I was already burning the candle at both ends, I’d nursed a fantasy that one day a friend or family member would show up at my apartment, inform me that my life had been paused, and dispatch me to rehab. The logistics would already be handled, the hard conversations out of the way.

I owned the Sandra Bullock B-movie 28 Days on DVD and watched it at least a hundred times. Sandra plays a sarcastic writer who hijacks her sister’s wedding, is smacked with a DUI, and is sent to rehab as part of her court sentence. She rails against her fate, but eventually admits she’s a mess, does the inner work, and gets sober. I’m sure I was the only person in America who envied her character. Not the crash out necessarily, but the forced hand. The clarity that comes when someone makes an impossible decision for you.

I spent years waiting for a fuckup dramatic enough to make quitting nonnegotiable. But I’d gotten skilled at pulling myself together at the last possible moment. Every disastrous night became a solitary incident, and every stretch of moderation was proof that I really could drink like a normal person. Instead of a true rock bottom, the final years of my drinking were more sad than showy. There was nothing cataclysmic, but more than enough to make me wince repeatedly at the gap between the person I knew I was and the person who kept showing up at open bars.

What finally broke the pattern wasn’t dramatic, either. I attended a handful of helpful AA meetings. Later, I committed to psychedelic work with a guide and sound healer—the kind of experience I approached skeptically at first, fully expecting to feel silly. Instead, I remember thinking, with an embodied clarity that felt almost humiliating in its simplicity: I am allowed to take care of myself. Drinking is the opposite of taking care of myself. In order to fully love my family, I need to love myself.

In the end, I didn’t stop drinking because I finally hated my life enough. I stopped because I’d begun to forgive myself—and to believe I might actually deserve a life with less chaos and shame.

What surprised you about getting sober?

The real surprise is that my life feels so much fuller now. When I was contemplating getting sober, I expected it to drain the color out of things—that I’d be doomed to a boring, sterile existence. This hasn’t happened. If anything, I feel more alive than I did when I was drinking.

I also feel like I’m finally walking a path that’s actually mine. I show up as more myself now—less performance, less anticipating what someone wants from me, more honesty about what I feel and who I actually am. People tend to meet that authenticity with the same energy. I’m not spending so much time managing what I reveal. I’m just there.

That said, I still struggle at cocktail parties. Not long ago I was at one where everyone around me seemed to be letting loose and having a great time, and I felt genuinely tempted to have a drink—not for the first time, and probably not the last. I left earlier than I might have otherwise, and woke up the next day with zero regrets, which was its own kind of proof.

I’m more rooted in the decision now than I used to be, but rooted doesn’t mean immune. If I’m having a bad day and don’t feel up to an event with alcohol around, I try not to go.

What’s the biggest challenge you’ve encountered on your alcohol-free journey?

There was one night, early on, when I looked at my husband during dinner, started angry crying, and told him I was fucking done with this. That it was too hard to be alone in my own mind at that hour, with two demanding kids underfoot, without a drink to take the edge off.

In that moment, the alcohol-induced haze felt so much more familiar than sitting with my own feelings. Why was I doing this to myself? Was I seriously expected to white knuckle my way through life from now on?

Ethan gave me space, but also some tough love. He’d been on his own sober journey, so he knew firsthand that the early days are the hardest, and he told me I owed it to myself to get through them before deciding anything. He reminded me that I was one of the most stubborn, disciplined people he knew—and suggested this might finally be a productive use for those qualities.

So I kept going. And he was right. The first thirty days were by far the hardest for me. After that, the benefits started to compound. I committed to a new workout routine, set better boundaries at work, and continued to integrate the lessons from my psychedelic experiences. Eventually, my alcohol-free identity became more solid.

What are the biggest benefits or gifts of sobriety?

Self-trust, self-love, and self-respect. My mornings are so much clearer. I no longer wake up conducting an investigation into what I said, whether I hurt anyone’s feelings, or if Ethan is still angry at me. I still wake up tired—I have two young children, and forty does not guarantee a luminous dawn—but I don’t wake up ashamed.

I’m also calmer and more present with my kids. Not all the time, because they remain committed to testing the outer limits of my nervous system, but much more often. I feel like I’m giving them the best of me now, rather than whatever scraps were left over.

And with the brain space sobriety has given me back, I’ve finally started pursuing something I’ve wanted since elementary school: writing. Not journaling or occasionally starting a draft I’d abandon after a few pages, but actually finishing things. Since I stopped drinking, I’ve written a novel and a half and started publishing personal essays. I never would have had the nerve for that kind of exposure when I was still so preoccupied with everyone else’s perception of me.

I’m no longer spending my creative energy maintaining a persona. I get to spend it making something.

What words of advice would you give someone who’s considering sobriety or newly sober?

You don’t have to wait until alcohol has destroyed your life. And you don’t have to prove your problem is worse than anyone else’s. The line between this is fine and this is a problem is almost entirely internal, and only you can draw it for yourself. What are you drinking to avoid? What are you trying not to feel?

Also, you don’t have to solve forever today. Try one day. Then thirty. Then sixty. Once the fog of shame starts to lift, it will be much harder to go back to your old way of living.

And forgive yourself in advance for however many attempts it takes. I had two decades of false starts before one finally stuck. Every one of those failed tries felt like proof I couldn’t do it. In hindsight, they were actually the opposite. Each one gave me new clues about what I was running from, which made it harder to lie to myself the next time. If you slip, that doesn’t mean you’re back at zero. You know more than you did before—and you’re still paying attention.

Please say hello in the comments, and consider sharing your sobriety story.

Thank you for sharing, Rachel! We look forward to connecting with you in the comments.

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We know that sharing about recovery and sobriety can feel vulnerable. Like in recovery groups, we ask that commenters in this space refrain from giving unsolicited advice or spreading hate and division. Thank you for helping us foster a kind and inclusive community.