I’m going to go a bit personal here. I haven’t done that in a while. The internet’s changed a lot since the last time I shared something like this—people get a little too judgy these days. But I wanted to talk about something I’m sort of proud of… and also a little confused by.
So, around August of last year, I gave up drinking.
No, really—I mean it. I’ve had maybe one or two beers in the last few months, but even those felt like a chore to finish. I don’t even remember if I got through the whole glass. That’s unlike me.
I was never a party animal. If anything, I was more of a lone wolf drinker, and yeah—that’s not great. Drinking alone isn’t glamorous. It didn’t make me depressed or angry or anything like that, but it started to feel… pointless.
I didn’t quit for health reasons—though I’ll admit, the health benefits I’ve noticed have been pretty great. I quit because I wanted to. Because I felt bored. Because as I’m getting into my 40s, alcohol just doesn’t hit the same. It hurts now. If you’re around my age, you know what I mean—the throbbing headache after just a couple glasses of wine, the dragging feeling the next morning. I think back to my 20s, when I could polish off a bottle without flinching. But now? No thanks.
Am I proud of that old version of me? Not really. So, yeah—this whole “not drinking” thing seems to be catching on. I’m not saying I’m a trendsetter, but maybe I’m part of a quiet movement. It seems like a lot of people are phasing alcohol out of their lives—not in a puritanical way, just… choosing different paths.
Of course, the recreational marijuana and gummy industry is booming, so we’re all trading one vice for another. But alcohol—man, that stuff can really hurt. It’s literally a toxic liquid. And I’ll tell you this: I feel better without it.
I’m not going to sit here and claim I lost a bunch of weight or feel like a million bucks. I’m still aging. I still get tired. I still have muscle aches. But I don’t feel that little liver throb I used to. My heart doesn’t feel as taxed. My body feels like it can breathe again.
And here’s the best part: I haven’t had a hangover in nearly a year.
That’s worth celebrating.
I’ve had water with lime at the few functions I’ve attended (I’m not much of a social butterfly anymore, sadly). If nobody hears your drink order, they won’t know what you’re sipping. I’ve heard people say quitting alcohol made them lose friends. I didn’t lose any—though, to be fair, you’d have to have a bunch of friends to lose them. The close ones I do have? They don’t care. So, we’re good.
I’m good.
I’m not swearing off alcohol forever. I’m not setting some hard rule that I’ll never drink again, because if I break that rule, I’ll feel like a failure. Instead, I just say, “No thanks.” And maybe someday, if I want a drink—wine, beer, whatever—I’ll say “Sure.” And that’ll be that. No big deal. I think making it a big deal is what makes it harder than it needs to be.
Now here’s the kicker.
Here’s the big one.
I’ve been drinking coffee longer than I’ve been drinking alcohol. And for the past 10 days… I’ve been coffee sober.
Yes, you read that right. No caffeine. No coffee. Cold turkey.
And let me tell you—those horror stories you hear? They’re true. The headaches were brutal the first few days. Your body begs for it. But around day four, the storm started to pass. And now, on days 7 through 10, I’m in this sort of hazy malaise. Like my body’s still adjusting, but I’m not falling apart anymore.
This morning’s drink of choice? A large iced decaf from Dunkin’.
Ironically, that’s what made me want to quit. I realized I was having close to 1,000mg of caffeine—multiple times a week. Sometimes even in the evening. I’d actually drink coffee to fall asleep because, somehow, the stimulant was making me tired. That’s how far gone I was. Maybe it’s a medical anomaly, maybe not, but it was weird and I didn’t like it.
And honestly, I didn’t want to be that person—someone who needs coffee to function. I didn’t want to need it first thing in the morning. I didn’t want to be defined by it.
I’ve tried quitting before. I’ve gone cold turkey and lasted about four days, then came crawling back—and drank even more. But this time feels different.
While I’m not ready to say caffeine-free living is giving me some great mental edge, I do feel a longer-term clarity. Less jittery. Calmer. I’m more even. I think things through instead of reacting instantly. And that, to me, is progress.
I don’t know what the long-term benefits will be. Who does? I could get hit by a car tomorrow and none of this will matter. But if it matters—if I’m lucky enough to live a long, healthy life—then the idea of never having a hangover or a caffeine crash again? That’s sounding better and better.
Now that I’ve dropped two somewhat toxic things in my life—alcohol and caffeine—I’m starting to wonder: what else can I do?
Because honestly, the best self-help advice is simple: just do something.
Be careful though–I still have not decided if decaf can be a gateway drug..
Take one small thing and tackle it.
Now… giving up sugar?
I don’t know if I’m ready for that conversation yet.
But it might just be next.
