16 Years Sober: What I've Learned About Life, Patriarchy, and Not Giving a Damn
So here we are. Sixteen freaking years without a drop of alcohol. That's 5,844 days of facing life's bullshit head-on without liquid courage. If you'd told me back then I'd make it this far, I'd have laughed in your face before ordering another round.
The Early Days Were Pure Hell
Let's not sugarcoat this journey, shall we? I didn't just decide to quit drinking because I wanted better Instagram photos - OMFG - thankfully I quit before Instagram was a big deal. I quit because I hit rock bottom—a failed suicide attempt that woke me up to the harsh reality that alcohol and I had a relationship that could only end one way if I didn't get out.
To say the first year was difficult would be a big fucking understatement. Navigating social pressure, "one won’t hurt" to “if you drink again I’ll never forgive you” I was frequently white-knuckling it through life. Having to explain why I wasn't drinking, when I wanted to hide that I had to...I was full of shame. Thankfully, my neighbor took me to my first couple of AA meetings, which saved my life. Community is everything.
Sobriety in a World That Can't Handle It
Sixteen years later, I'm still constantly amazed at how uncomfortable my sobriety makes other people. Like somehow MY choice not to drink is a referendum on THEIR drinking habits. Newsflash: it's not about you.
The number of times I've heard "I could never do that" or "You must have amazing willpower" is enough to fill a memoir. What I want to say is: "Actually, what takes willpower is continuing to poison yourself because society has convinced you that's normal." But I usually just smile and order another sparkling water with lime. Sidenote, I have the willpower of a gnat.
What No One Tells You About Getting Sober
Here's what no one mentions when you quit drinking:
Your bullshit detector gets frighteningly accurate. Without alcohol dulling your senses, you see through people's facades like they're made of cellophane.
Relationships change fundamentally—especially romantic ones. When your drinking buddy is your partner, sobriety forces a reckoning. My husband and I built our early relationship around shared bottles and bar tabs. His continued drinking (though significantly reduced) has created tension at times. We've had to learn a whole new dance, and he is my biggest cheerleader.
You realize how much of women's alcohol culture is just repackaged patriarchy. "Wine mom" culture isn't female empowerment—it's a way to keep us sedated while still handling all the emotional and domestic labor.
You save a ridiculous amount of money. Sixteen years of no bar tabs and zero trips to the liquor store have saved me roughly $70,000.
Your time expands. Turns out, hangovers were stealing entire days of my life. Who knew?
The Feminist Angle of Sobriety
Let's talk about how alcohol is marketed to women versus men. Men drink whiskey to conquer the world. Women drink rosé to survive it. Men get "craft beer." We get "skinny cocktails." The messaging is clear: men drink for pleasure and power; women drink to cope and conform.
Getting sober forced me to confront how many of my "choices" were actually just me following a script written by a society that profits from women being just tipsy enough to buy more stuff but not so empowered that we start demanding equal pay.
What 16 Years Have Taught Me
After sixteen years, here's what I know for sure:
The problems you think you're drinking to escape will still be there in the morning, plus a headache.
The friends who only liked you when you were drinking weren't actually your friends.
Patriarchy loves a drunk woman—she's easier to dismiss, control, and underestimate.
Nothing tastes as good as waking up clear-headed feels.
The best revenge against everyone who said you couldn't do it is to keep doing it, one day at a time.
Looking Forward
Would I change anything about these sixteen years? Hell no. Even the rough days sober were better than my best days drinking. Because I was actually present for them, actually living them instead of numbing through them.
So here's to sixteen years of radical clarity. To facing life's joys and sorrows with eyes wide open. To not needing liquid courage because it turns out, the real courage was inside me all along.
And if you're reading this wondering if you could ever make it sixteen years without a drink, let me tell you something: I'm nothing special. I just decided that I deserved better than what alcohol was offering me. And so do you. And if you need support, I’m here to help.
Here's to sixteen more years of not giving a damn about society's expectations and living life on my own terms. Sparkling water cheers to that.
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