Last Updated on 31 March, 2026 by Cara Sutra
I haven’t touched alcohol for 21 months. That’s almost two years without a drop of drink – aka the good stuff, a tipple, my favourite poison, a drop of fizz, a glass of vino, a bottle of bubbly. There is such a pervasive culture of fun surrounding alcohol that it’s easy to get swept into the positivity and social bonding of it all when in the midst of it. Now I’ve leapt off the booze merry-go-round, I see alcohol for what it really is, in the stark and sober light of day. Because going sober is such a monumental decision in our culture, I wanted to write about what led me to this decision at this juncture of my life, share the before, beginnings and where I’m at now in my sobriety, and the highs and lows of choosing the sober life when you’re not an alcoholic. Because no, you don’t have to be an alcoholic to decide to stop drinking. I don’t identify as an alcoholic, I simply decided I’d had enough – and stopped drinking forever.
My sober start date is 22nd February 2023. The night before I’d had an absolute bender with booze, not that I’d been out anywhere or that it was a special occasion – it wasn’t. I was simply at home, with bottles of wine in the fridge that as usual called my name, and I – as usual – answered eagerly. The next morning I woke in that cold-but-clammy daze after a heavy night on the sauce, the accusatory questions starting to ricochet around my pickled brain. “What happened last night? How much did you drink? What did you do? Do I need to feel ashamed about anything?”
This is commonly known as “the fear”, and I experienced it regularly the morning after drinking. My dehydrated brain cells struggling through the poisoned fog to remember details of the previous evening, from the excitement of that first chilled glug from a full glass up to when it all turned fuzzy and my memory sputtered and slowed down until it faded to black.
Usually, I’d done nothing to be worried about or ashamed of. Just drank and drank through the evening until either collapsing in bed in a drunken sleep, or falling asleep on the sofa to be gently roused by my husband and helped into bed. Sometimes my comments online got a little too assertive, spiky or otherwise “out there”; typos and unfinished conversations hinted at my less than sober state when stabbing dizzily at my phone screen the night before.
When I was younger, I didn’t seem to get quite as drunk with the same amount of drink. My ‘poison’ of choice was white wine, and in my 20s and 30s I would either have 4 or 5 glasses on a night out and go home still coherent but happily tipsy, or if at home I could have a bottle on a Friday or Saturday night and leave it at that.
In my 40s, though, something changed. It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact cause; it’s more likely that several things caused a perfect storm which led me to develop a toxic relationship with the booze. I turned 40 in 2020, a year when many people found themselves drinking more than usual, thanks to the stresses and enforced containment at home that COVID-19 brought. Being in my 40s meant that as 2020 turned into 2021 and so on, and my drinking didn’t lessen and neither did the stresses and strains of life, my body simply couldn’t handle the regular onslaught of alcohol as well as it used to. And it was often more alcohol than it had been used to in my 20s and 30s anyway. The start of my perimenopause in 2022 felt like my healthy body and good mood both coming to a screeching halt, causing a huge negative impact to my mental health, which in turn meant I sought the easy slip into the black numb abyss that alcohol brought much more often than before.
Society seems to encourage it. Of course, no-one else bought the alcohol and no-one else forced me to drink a drop of it. But there is such a hugely positive attitude towards booze especially here in the UK, with regular over-drinking and intoxication not just accepted but cheered, glorified, enabled. There are alcohol-related offers for every single celebratory event you can think of. Alcohol-related traditions to mark the sad moments of life such as the passing of a loved one, and happy moments such as ‘wetting the baby’s head’ when a child is born. Weddings descending into raucous drunken dancing, teenagers sneaking booze seen as a rite of passage, your first legal drink at 18 celebrated with official cards and gifts, wine and spirits gift sets the top choice for birthdays and every single gifting occasion. Facebook memes excitedly announcing “wine o’clock” shared between mums countless times throughout the week. PJs in the supermarket aimed at women glitter with booze-related slogans such as “let the fun be-Gin”, “be there in a Prosecco” and “it’s the most Wine-derful time of the year”. It’s absolutely relentless. It’s everywhere, threaded into every single aspect of adult life in UK society.
There is also the prevailing myth that if you don’t drink alcohol, you’re either a full-blown alcoholic (with the common attitude towards the person of “oh no, they ruined their drinking by going too far”) or you’re simply weird. Who doesn’t drink alcohol? What on earth do you do for fun? How do you socialise? Weird. As I’ve heard many times in the sober-verse and strongly agree, alcohol is the only drug you have to justify not using. It is so true. If you’re out with a bunch of people and announce you’re not drinking, certain assumptions will follow. You’re instantly either an alcoholic (and this potential shared future worries many regular drinkers, you see the flicker of fear pass over their faces), pregnant or driving. For all of the above, you can almost hear the chorus of “oh fuck, why did we invite them?” in their minds. If you don’t drink, you’re no fun. If you don’t drink, what are you even doing here? If you don’t drink, stay at home. Drink is socialising. It’s more than social lubricant, it’s bonding.
These are just a few of the insights I’ve gained since going totally sober. A big worry for people who are sober curious, dabbling with the idea of giving up the drink, is the potential effect on their social life and friend circle. What people will think, how they will explain it – and what they will do to relax, for fun. How will special moments be marked, if not with alcohol? What do you do at the end of a working week, to wind down, if you don’t drink? How do you perk up a boring evening without a few tipples – or a working lunch, without a few glasses of wine? And – dear god – what about Christmas? And so it just seems easier to carry on, less scary, just go with the boozy flow, don’t climb out of the river, stay with your friends getting swept downstream and goodness knows where we’ll all end up. But hey, at least it’ll be fun, right? No, don’t worry about your health, what all this alcohol is doing to your insides, about all the wasted nights blacked out and the wasted days hung over and the gradual but relentless deterioration to your health metrics every time you go to the doctor’s for a check-up, silence that voice when you’re alone at night that says “this isn’t healthy” and queries “do I have a problem?” and visualises decades chopped off your life due to the onset of liver disease caused by such fun Friday nights and weekends out on the lash. But it’s all so fun so stop worrying and get back to the party.
This is the crossroads I found myself at on the morning of 22nd February 2023. It was strange but right, one of those epiphany moments I’ve read about but wasn’t sure actually ever happened to anyone. And it was happening to me. I felt like I was at an actual crossroads in my life, it’s the only way to describe it. Two choices: I could carry on my drinking habit the way it was, socially acceptable, personally unhealthy and gaining traction with every passing year and which I believed would lead to my eventual early demise due to misuse – or I could get the hell off this merry-go-round and society, culture, social circle and other people’s opinions of my decision be absolutely damned.
Faced with such a stark and dramatic choice, I’m pleased to say I chose the latter. My decision was no doubt helped by the fact that I felt absolutely fucking awful and the prospect of never having to suffer through another hangover – which lasted not just a day anymore but days, plural – was hugely appealing. I was already struggling to deal with my perimenopause as you can read plenty about elsewhere on the blog, I just couldn’t carry on with this unnecessary, self-inflicted damage on top. The negatives of drinking alcohol were far outweighing any positives, and the negatives were long-lasting too, compared with the all too brief high of that first sip of drink after a hard day or week, and the fast descent into tipsiness then total numbness. Sure, it was fun at the time. But what a short time it was. And what far-reaching, negative consequences it held. It wasn’t worth it anymore. The price was too high. I was opting out, for good.
In this decision I must recognise my privilege. My husband doesn’t drink alcohol – not really a deliberate choice as much as the fact he doesn’t really like the taste, and would only ever have half a glass of something before setting it aside to go back to his Pepsi Max. Having a partner who doesn’t drink has made the decision to stop drinking myself all the easier. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be if he were an enthusiastic or heavy drinker, or if our relationship hinged on shared drinking sessions. Also, I don’t have a job in an office or other away-from-home environment where I’m part of a team which chooses to celebrate events, or bond at the end of a working week, by drinking together. I work by myself, from home – so there’s no ‘team’ pressure to head out with the girls on a Friday night for drinks at the bar, or to ‘have a cheeky one, or five! hahahahaha’ on a Friday lunchtime before staggering back to the office to pretend to work until the clock finally relents and shows 5pm. I have been in both of those situations in the past – with partners who drank heavily and expected me to join them*, and part of an office team which bonded through alcohol. My sobriety and choosing the sober life has definitely been easier without having to navigate those circumstances.
Was it hard to go sober? To be honest, as I’m not an alcoholic, it wasn’t that difficult for me. Once the decision was made, it was like a weight had lifted. What I find difficult, to the point of impossibility as it turns out, is moderation. I can have absolutely no alcohol and that’s fine with me. I’ve done it plenty of times in the past, having been pregnant three times in my life. I’ve been on nights out and pregnant and not drinking and still had a great time. The problems arise when I try to have that magical and elusive ‘one or two’. “I’ll just have one drink to relax” is the greatest lie I ever told myself, and I sold myself that lie on so many occasions. The end of that drink comes so fast, that it wasn’t like I really had it at all, right? I can barely feel I’ve drank anything. It wasn’t even that big a drink. The wine isn’t even the strongest type. I’ll just pour another, then I’ll be done… Oh wow, I’ve finished that one too. Hey, that warm fuzzy feeling is lovely. I’m so confident now! Ah, doesn’t the world seem a lot softer. My problems have all floated away. More of that, please! Another glass? Don’t mind if I do. Oh fuck, I’ve finished the bottle. Looks like it’s a drinking night then! May as well do it properly and open another.
Like I say, I can’t do moderation. Sobriety is much, much easier.
What about social events? Friends? Christmas?
Yeah, I was worried about these when I made the decision to stop drinking forever. I had to consider what was really important to me. People’s opinions or my ongoing mental & physical health? Put in such plain terms, the answer is obvious. I feel lucky that I’m quite an assertive person anyway, and I wear my heart on my sleeve. Instead of slowly telling people about my sobriety, only when I had to on nights out for example or when offered a drink, I put it on Facebook. It’s a simple way to instantly let all my friends and contacts know that I’m totally sober. No need to state why, just that I don’t drink anymore. I think I waited until I had a month of sobriety under my belt, then shared the achievement on my profile from the counter app I use (I Am Sober). Because the decision is out there, for all Facebook contacts to see, it also means no easy backing out of the decision. Accountability is important, and sharing the decision with friends and family cements the decision and helps to recognise it as the unchangeable truth of life from now on.
I have learned a lot from choosing the sober life. Experiencing the full range of human emotion is normal, works to inform you of important aspects of life and it isn’t helpful or healthy to instantly drown emotions with alcohol. The numbness and escape hatch out of reality is certainly appealing, but it’s temporary, it’s fake, and it doesn’t solve anything. Problems and reality will still exist the next day, and may even be worse due to yesterday’s drinking. I’ve learned to sit with my feelings. As a result, I have gained so many valuable insights about life in general, myself, and my social circle. I really feel like I’ve woken up from the trance of constantly self-medicating and numbing with drink, and that life off the booze isn’t unbearably cold and stark, it’s colourful, varied, rich and vibrant. Life without alcohol isn’t boring or joyless, it enables me to be fully present in each and every moment, throughout every single occasion and event. I enjoy every second with full clarity, and I remember everything in vivid detail and rich colour.
Sobriety has been transformative in every single aspect of life. My mental health has never been better. I am physically much healthier. I don’t waste days being ill with the after-effects of alcohol. I can workout whenever I want to. I have gained so much time – seriously, you don’t realise how much time is wasted in drinking sessions until you’re out of the booze culture. I don’t have the daily voice debating if today is a drinking day, or when I can start drinking, or should I drink tonight as I have plans tomorrow, and the struggle of moderation to allay sickness or be able to drive the next day, or the fear from drinking too much and potentially damaging my friendships, my reputation, my relationships with my husband and children. It has all dissipated. There is no worry. Just the anticipation of daily life, with all its natural highs and lows, the boring days and nights (embrace boredom, it’s a privilege) as well as the joyful parties and celebratory events, the confidence that comes from showing up for myself in every moment and interaction as well as being a reliable friend, mother, wife.
Going sober is the best decision I’ve ever made; I just wish I’d made it years ago. I would wholeheartedly recommend sobriety to absolutely everyone. Alcohol has nothing good to offer, it’s literally poison. There is no safe level to consume. You do you of course, all I can say is that I finally feel free of alcohol’s grip on my life and I’ve never been happier. Cheers to life in all its glorious vibrancy, seen through clear eyes with a clear head that will remember it all come morning.
“Quit Lit” Books I Read & Loved
Glorious Rock Bottom – Bryony Gordon Amazon.com / Amazon UK (she also has a brilliant weekly podcast)
The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober – Catherine Gray Amazon.com / Amazon UK
Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget – Sarah Hepola Amazon.com / Amazon UK
The Sober Diaries: How one woman stopped drinking and started living – Clare Pooley Amazon.com / Amazon UK
We Are the Luckiest: The Surprising Magic of a Sober Life – Laura McKowen Amazon.com / Amazon UK
Dry – Augusten Burroughs Amazon.com / Amazon UK (I then read his other book: Running With Scissors, which isn’t about sobriety but is just as brilliant)
Current Fave Tipples
I’ve stopped relying on alcohol-free ‘fake booze’ to mark the end of the week or to celebrate a special occasion, but they’re still nice once in a while. In the early weeks and months I relied on them quite heavily to get through the peak habit/ritual times; you know, Friday & Saturday nights, celebrating little wins, a treat after a hard day or once the kids are in bed, that sort of thing. For this I like Captain Morgan’s alcohol-free rum with a diet coke, or Gordon’s alcohol-free gin (normal or pink), or there are various fruity-flavour alcohol-free ciders available.
Note: I have never tasted an alcohol-free wine which comes close to ‘the real thing’, whether it’s a white, red, rose or sparkling. They’ve all been naff and I just had to go cold turkey on the wine. Apparently the thing I liked most about wine was that it’s alcoholic. But the cons most definitely outweigh the pros. So it’s gone.
My main gripe with alcohol-free spirits and drinks (other than the lack of any decent alcohol-free wine) is the price. I realise that many alcohol-free spirits are still brewed or distilled in the same way as their alcoholic counterparts, then the alcohol is removed, therefore the price tag remains around the same as the alcoholic version. But when I drank, I paid the higher price tags mainly because alcohol is a drug, plus there are taxes levied on alcohol, and for those reasons the price was more acceptable. It got more acceptable the more drinks I had, naturally. When I want a lovely drink but to remain sober, I do balk a bit (ok, a lot) at paying between £15-£25 for a bottle of lovely tasting but totally alcohol-free ‘spirit’.
Instead, I’m at the point where I buy delicious cordials instead, and put some diet tonic water with them, much like a gin & tonic, with cordial or fruit juice replacing the gin element. It still tastes quite bitter and therefore like a ‘grown up’ drink, but for a fraction of the price. Robinsons here in the UK make a fantastic mint & lime cordial which, when topped up with tonic water, tastes something like a mojito (my previous favourite cocktail). Elderflower cordial is another fave with tonic (I love Belvoir Farm’s cordials & premixed cans).
For the most part though, I’ve stopped reaching for beverages to give me that relaxing effect, or celebratory rush, or just due to habit or ritual association. Breaking the connection between drink & emotions/events has been a huge revelation since I chose to go sober. A big slice of cake, however, now that’s a different story…
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*some time after deciding to go sober forever, I learned that an ex-partner had recently died from multi organ failure as a result of her alcohol abuse.
