By: Jenna Adams
Updated: September 27, 2023
Originally Published: January 28, 2014
It’s been ages since I last sipped on an alcoholic drink—Christmas was the final occasion, followed by Halloween, and before that, LAST summer. The longer I stay away from wine, the more it feels like a toxin rather than a treat. So, I’ve made the decision: I’m done drinking—completely.
My wine-loving friends probably just dropped their glasses in disbelief (but let’s not be too harsh; they’re good people!). Back in high school, while my classmates were chugging away at parties, I took on the role of the observer. Sure, the initial hours were filled with laughter and wild antics, but then the tears fell, fights erupted, and someone inevitably ended up face-first in a washing machine—a real eye-opener for the unsuspecting parents who thought they could trust their teen for the weekend.
Seeing all this made me wary of alcohol. I faced quite a bit of teasing for not joining in. “Why even show up?” they’d ask, as if my presence was a judgment on their choices. Towards the end of senior year, the pressure and curiosity finally got to me, and I climbed aboard the party train. I rode that wave into my twenties, indulging heavily and experiencing my fair share of unfortunate incidents.
I could regale you with tales of my wild escapades—like the time I flashed a bartender for free drinks or swam in gator-infested waters after dark. But I also encountered the darker side of drinking, primarily through a couple of alcoholic relationships. I tasted the bitter fruit of codependency and had to spit that poison out before it consumed me. With alcoholism lurking in my family history, I feel lucky that my flirtation with booze didn’t cost me more than it did. Once I was ready to move on, it was surprisingly easy to walk away.
As I transitioned into adulthood, I distanced myself from my party-hardy friends and gradually reduced my drinking to socially acceptable levels. Having kids further diminished my alcohol intake, and for years, my consumption consisted of a few glasses of wine here and there—mostly to celebrate surviving parenthood or at gatherings.
Then came my writing journey about two years ago. I realized that I couldn’t write effectively with a foggy brain, and those late nights spent crafting words were better savored without a drink in hand. Before I knew it, I’d lost my taste for wine and the effects it had on me.
I’ve discovered that I don’t enjoy intentionally dulling my senses. Life feels like a clumsy dance even without the aid of alcohol, and I prefer to keep my wits about me. As someone who often puts her foot in her mouth, it’s even tougher to navigate social situations when I’ve had a few too many. I’ve learned that speaking freely while drinking just doesn’t align with my goal of not coming off as rude.
Now, just the sight of a wine list can give me a headache. I’m not a fan of feeling miserable due to my own choices. Stopping drinking has significantly improved my mood stability. Instead of reaching for a glass of wine after a rough day, I find that simply putting my feet up is just as soothing—and it doesn’t come with a hangover.
Embracing my awkwardness at social events has been liberating. Instead of seeking comfort in a drink, I’m learning to navigate those moments on my own. Sure, peer pressure still exists at thirty-five, but it’s more subtle. At gatherings, everyone expects you to have a drink in hand, and when I politely decline, friends often think I’m joking. It’s a surprise when I say my drink is virgin, and I can sense their hesitation to drink as much in my presence. I find it challenging to assert my choice without feeling like I’m back in high school, where my sobriety was mistaken for judgment.
The biggest shift from my teen years to now is how I handle peer pressure. Back then, I craved acceptance. Now? I genuinely don’t care if someone thinks I’m uncool for not drinking. Plus, I’m fortunate to have relationships that don’t hinge on alcohol consumption.
In today’s world, the “mommy needs her sippy cup” culture is rampant, which I find amusing, and likely exaggerated for effect. On the flip side, there are those who abstain for religious reasons or due to alcoholism, which is widely respected. But what about those of us who simply prefer a sober lifestyle? Is there anyone else out there like me?
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In summary, my decision to stop drinking has not only transformed my social interactions but also my overall well-being. I’ve found joy in embracing my authentic self—awkwardness and all—without needing to mask it with alcohol.