Saturday, June 6th, 2020 — the day I decided to take a break from alcohol. I didn’t know it then, but that single decision would become a defining pivot point in my life.
The months leading up to that day had been unraveling slowly, quietly. Since the fall of 2019, the foundation of my life had been crumbling under the weight of emotional dissonance, internal conflict, and a deep sense of instability. I felt like I was drifting—existing in a haze, disconnected from my own purpose. Something had to change.
That Friday night, I did something I often did: I poured myself a drink, cooked dinner, and settled into the comfort of a familiar show. Nothing unusual. I even made a small plan for the next day—get up early, go for a walk before the heat kicked in, maybe even spend some time journaling. It was my attempt at regaining some structure.
But Saturday morning came and hit me like a wall. My alarm buzzed, but I couldn’t move. My body felt heavy, and my mind was covered in fog. The motivation I had the night before had evaporated. I felt paralyzed—emotionally and physically.
I lay in bed as shame crept over me. I had failed myself again. The walk I had promised to my dog, and to myself, didn’t happen. That minor disappointment cracked something deeper inside me. It wasn’t just about missing a walk—it was about the pattern. The promises made and broken. The dreams that faded before they had a chance to begin.
Eventually, I forced myself out of bed, not out of willpower but more from a place of desperation. I sat on the floor at the end of my bed, sunlight pouring over me like a silent witness. I meditated, but not in the peaceful, serene way you see in photos. I vented. I ranted. I asked the universe: What do I do? How do I fix this?
And then it came—quiet but clear. A single message, a directive from somewhere deep inside me or somewhere above me:
“No alcohol.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. I stood up, walked to the kitchen, and poured the rest of my Prosecco down the sink. I didn’t second guess it. I didn’t waver. I didn’t know what would come next, but I was done drinking—for a while.
At first, “a while” meant six months. That felt achievable and gave me a tangible milestone. I knew I needed time and space to reset my mind and body, to find some clarity in the fog.
The first few weeks were rough. The mornings were still cloudy, even without alcohol. It took about a month before I started waking up without that persistent heaviness. But even in the struggle, I knew I was on the right path. That message from the universe—or my guardian angels, or my higher self—kept echoing in my mind.
Now, it’s been four years. Four years of waking up clear-headed. Four years of learning who I really am when I’m not numbing myself. Four years of rebuilding my foundation from the ground up—this time, intentionally.
Here’s what I’ve learned over these four years—and what might help you if you’re feeling the way I was:
1. Listen to the Still Voice Inside You
That whisper might not come with fireworks or a grand revelation. It might feel like a passing thought. But when it comes from truth, you’ll know. Pay attention to it. Journal it. Act on it.
2. Don’t Wait for Rock Bottom
You don’t need to hit a catastrophic low to make a change. Sometimes it’s a quiet Saturday morning and a broken promise to your dog. Let small moments be enough of a reason to shift.
3. Create a Transition Ritual
Pouring out the Prosecco wasn’t just symbolic—it was an act of commitment. If you’re ready to make a shift, mark the moment. Light a candle. Write a letter. Say it out loud. Make it real.
4. Set Short-Term Goals That Lead to Long-Term Change
My first goal was six months. That gave me something to reach for without overwhelming me. When I got there, I didn’t feel like going back. Create milestones and celebrate them.
5. Expect the Fog—and Know It Will Lift
The first month, I still felt groggy, emotionally numb, and lost. That’s normal. Your body and mind need time to detox, recalibrate, and heal. Give it the grace it deserves.
6. Find New Ways to Cope
Alcohol had been my go-to for relaxing, numbing, and escaping. Without it, I had to find new tools—meditation, walking, journaling, therapy, long talks with trusted friends. Healing requires new strategies.
7. Recognize the Depth of Your Transformation
I’m not just “sober.” I’m alive in a way I didn’t know was possible before. Removing alcohol wasn’t the finish line—it was the beginning of everything good that followed.
Today, I stand on a foundation I rebuilt from scratch. It’s rooted in self-respect, clarity, and authenticity. My mind is no longer at war with itself. That dissonance I felt in 2019? It’s been replaced with resonance—my life and values finally aligning.
I don’t know if I’ll ever drink again. Right now, I don’t want to. What I do want is to keep choosing myself, every single day.
If you’re standing at your own breaking point, I hope my story reminds you: change is possible. The next chapter of your life is waiting—and it begins the moment you decide you’re worth saving.
Have you ever had a similar moment of clarity or change? I’d love to hear your story in the comments. Let’s support each other—because we all deserve a life that feels honest and whole.