The loneliness of being sort-of sober

I am sober* - so where do I belong?

I remember getting up at 4am on September 12, 2021, feeling shitty and stupid and so disappointed in myself because there I was, once again hungover.

I had been trying to moderate and eliminate my drinking for literal years. Ever since I read

Ruby Warrington

’s book Sober Curious and it set me down a path I found endlessly frustrating (my fault, not the author’s). I would bargain with myself about when and how much I would drink, and always get it wrong or spend the whole night obsessing over the “will I, won’t I” question. I had been sober curious for too long, and I finally knew I was ready to get sober.

I don’t know what finally clicked that morning in 2021, but I know that it changed me. I spent the next year working my way into the strange, sometimes ill-fitting box of sobriety. It was a year of wretchedly uncomfortable firsts, and a few which were surprisingly magical. I went camping sober. Attended weddings sober. Went to my friend group’s monthly wine nights sober. Sober holidays, sober birthdays, sober celebrations, and wine-free nights at home - even while eating charcuterie. I realized I was capable of living without alcohol. That I was free.

I don’t remember my first drink after that first year. It wasn’t particularly momentous. It might have been at dinner with friends. It might have been during a winter cooking class. I just knew it wasn’t the end of the world, and that it also wasn’t the end of what I considered my sobriety. 

I still count that cold September morning as my soberversary, and I don’t intend on resetting the clock anytime soon. I’m not perfectly sober, but I could certainly count on my hands the times I have drank over the past couple years (if I thought it was worth counting). I love being the designated driver so friends can celebrate without worry. I feel so at ease in the world knowing that my default is not drinking, and I don’t want to feel guilty when I make an intentional choice otherwise. 

But there’s a strange loneliness to being sober with an asterisk. During that first year of sobriety, I enmeshed myself in sober communities online. I found so much strength and inspiration and camaraderie in being among others who had rethought the role of alcohol in their lives. I wanted to keep sharing my days/months/years sober, but as soon as I took a sip of wine, it felt disingenuous to do so. I felt that loss keenly, and I still feel it today. 

While there is theoretically space for the sober curious in sober communities, that’s not really a label that fits me anymore. I’m not curious. I’m not reevaluating. I’m just, well, sober*

*except that I occasionally have a glass of wine with a nice meal, or that I raised an actual glass of champagne to toast my brother’s wedding

And it feels like there isn’t a place for me unless I am bowing down at the altar of eternal sobriety. That alcohol can play a small and reasonable role in someone’s life, especially after it loomed large as a problem, feels like blasphemy, but it’s also my experience. I am done with my boring battle with alcohol, and I didn’t have to banish it to the hinterlands in order to find peace. 

I know that’s not everyone’s experience. I know how life-changing and wonderful un-asterisked sobriety is for many. It’s a life raft. A safe-haven. A thing worth shouting about from the rooftops. But I sometimes feel like proselytizing about sobriety turns to gatekeeping - and it makes me more quiet about my own lived experience. 

I still want to talk about how freeing life without alcohol is, because it is. IT IS! I still want to celebrate my sobriety even if no one would give me an AA chip to commemorate today. I still want a community that understands and validates my experience, and I want to give that validation to others who have changed their relationship with drinking, even if they haven’t eliminated alcohol entirely. 

We need room for that kind of nuance. I need room for that kind of nuance. Because I want to welcome in the people who are sober for today. The ones who are soberish or sober-longing. Who want to turn down the drink but don’t know how to say so without lying or pledging themselves to a forever kind of sobriety. Who want to find the in-between because it’s what feels most authentic. 

I want us all to feel like we can belong. 

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Photo by Thalia Ruiz on Unsplash

This is the energy I’m bringing to our first Angry Woman Book Club.

Nuance. Challenge. A space where everyone’s experience is welcome. 

If you’re interested in joining me to discuss It’s Not About The Wine: The Loaded Truth Behind Mommy Wine Culture with Celeste Yvonne now’s the time to move to a paid subscription.

Paid subscribers to either of our newsletters receive access to a live book club on Wednesday, January 17th at 11:00am PT hosted on zoom. You can send in any questions before the meeting, or ask them during the live Q&A portion of the book club. A recording will be made available for anyone who can’t attend live.

You’ll also receive a book club bundle of resources, including questions and writing prompts for reflection, quit lit companion reads, accounts to follow to bolster your sober(ish) community, and our favorite NA beverage recommendations. 

I hope I get to welcome you there, whatever your experience with alcohol is, has been, or will be in the future.