“Sober curious” is a term that the 20-year-old me would have never understood. 

Drinking was still an occasional thing then, something I could take or leave.  If someone told me they were sober curious, I’d say they could sate their curiosity simply by putting the Shiner Bock down and having a Big Red instead.

But as the years went on, and being an adult became serious business, alcohol became a bigger part of life.  After a time, the proverbial clock striking 5pm became a broken one.

Exactly one year ago today, I quit drinking.  Here’s what it’s been like.

Hindsight 2020

We all handled the pandemic in different ways (and it handled us in kind). 

Career-wise, I was one of the lucky ones.  I’m in software development — with a body molded into the shape of a gaming chair to prove it — and my industry was largely fine during the whole thing.

However, on top of your standard pandemic-related struggles, I was going through an extremely difficult time in my personal life.  Details withheld to maintain both writer and reader sanity, but it was truly the worst time of my life.

Alcohol went from accent piece to emergency exit.  It worked for a spell, bringing some much-needed respite during a difficult time.  But after a while, the benefits ran out but the beer tap didn’t.

Booze works really well as an enhancer, and if you are in a bad place, it does a damn great job of enhancing the misery, even under the banner of providing a good time.

When alcohol becomes a crutch, you start doing mental gymnastics to find ways to justify it.  “Hey, people in the 1950s had three-martini lunches!  Surely the fact that I’m downing two 500mL 9% ABV Strong Zeros at lunch is normal.  They were functional, and so am I.”

So let’s just skip over the part where daily drinking turned to day drinking, compounded by a powerful (yet leather jacket and Porsche-free) midlife crisis, and get to the solution that worked for me.

Selecting Hard Mode

I was at a point where I had lost myself.  The Cellucci Sauce had run dry.  Especially after selling my company, I was going through the motions, leading a life with no mojo, and I had lost the one thing that had always driven me in the past:

A goal.

I’m not talking about a goal like, “fit into my old Z Cavariccis.”  I’m talking about an all-encompassing mission, something I can pour myself into, and I’d allow nothing to derail me from achieving.

It turns out that working toward goals is a core need of mine.  In fact, just recently, I was introduced to the concept of core needs, and after doing an exercise, it became pretty clear that setting goals and achieving them is one of my main driving forces.

This explains why I like single-player adventure games, and not ones with gachas, looksmaxxing a digital avatar, or power-washing things.  It also explains why I see a package of Fig Newtons as a challenge, and rationalize that a serving size really depends on who’s being served, now doesn’t it?

Enter Tempesta, my new startup.  Turns out I gotta do things the hard way — which building another startup very much is — in order to be happy.  Each day, I wake up super motivated, ready to tackle the day and take the steps I need to take.

The sobriety experiment began because of the startup.  September 29th was the day the Antler program started, and I challenged myself to take a break from the hooch while diving into this brave new world of VC-backed startuppery.  (A path that, strangely enough, has exposed me to more free alcohol than I’ve ever encountered in my life.  College me would have been over the moon.)

I cannot recommend this path!  Running a business is hard, but it’s the kind of hard that works for me, and the last thing I need is a problem getting in the way of things, especially the kind where one’s stomach wants to leap out of its host’s body.

Important note: this is simply what worked for me, and your mileage may vary.  I highly recommend looking into what your core needs are, and looking at your relationship with alcohol with those needs in mind.  It might just make quitting surprisingly easy, like it did for me.

Living The Dry Life

People always want to know what’s different when you are off the sauce for an extended period.  They usually want to hear about grand life changes, sweepingly inspirational in nature and suitable for framing.

That kind of stuff didn’t really happen.  Energy levels are higher, my skin is better, I don’t get sick as often,  and my wallet is happier.  But life didn’t dramatically change.  I’m still a 50-year-old man, with all the aches, pains, and cane-shaking that comes with it.

That said…

1. Sleep is amazing.  When it comes to sleep, I’ve always been Pro-Gear Spec, rarely struggling to enter the doors of sleep.  But when you cut out dehydration and bathroom breaks, sleep rocks even harder.  I fall asleep almost instantly, have some largely badass dreams, and wake up feeling ready to go. 
2. 365 consecutive days of no hangovers is something that comes highly recommended.  It’s nice to wake up and not have to take stock of my body, seeing if I’m “not that bad” or if I’m on track for a Kingsley Amis metaphysical hangover.

The two things above and The Big Goal made up the formula for making sobriety stick for me, and it’s not a struggle.  Any time I think about diving off the wagon and into a martini glass, thinking about the above quells the cravings pretty quickly.

Glass Half Empty

All that said, there’s a reason people drink.  It works.  It can be a warm hug on a sunny day, a wonderful complement to a nice meal, and a strong bonding agent between friends.  Go dry, and you lose some of those true highs that a pitcher of margaritas with your homies can bring.

Networking events, client dinners, mixers — all of these become noticeably more boring.  Being around drunk people becomes insufferable.  Going out becomes less enticing, and earlier bedtimes become the norm.

Health benefits are there, but in my case, any potential weight loss got counteracted by the fact that sweets taste incredible to me now.  When I was a drinking man, I wouldn’t touch the stuff.  Now, if you give me a cinnamon roll, I practically want to rub my face in it.

Last Call

Going dry is something I can recommend with reservations, depending on your relationship with alcohol.  If you have a good relationship with it, you should absolutely keep it, and have a drink on me.

Quitting isn’t a miracle cure.  Problems in my life were not instantly solved. I didn’t gain an amazing steel-trap memory or untapped wells of hidden energy.

But for me, it was the right move at the right time.  Life is great now, and I know it could be even better.  That’s where the goals come in. 

A day may come when I decide to drink again.  If I do, as long as I’m staying true to myself and my needs, alcohol could very well be something I enjoy on occasion.

But honestly, I’m just not thinking about it all that much anymore.

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Note: if anyone reading this is struggling with this sort of thing, feel free to reach out.  I am by no means an expert, but I can help point you to some resources that may help, or just lend an ear.