If you had asked me about my drinking habits before I gave it up, I would have said I was a moderate drinker. In fact, if you had asked anyone who knew me, I’m sure they would have agreed.

I never had a DUI, I never lost a job or even missed a day of work because of alcohol. I didn’t day drink or miss important events because of a hangover. And outwardly, I was successful. I owned a thriving business, taught part-time at a university, raised two amazing kids, and had an active social life.

I also drank two glasses of wine most nights. (Ok, all nights.)

That seemed perfectly normal because it was normal in my social circle. And saying “I’m a moderate drinker” gave me a sense of belonging because I fit right in with my friends and colleagues.

And the “moderate drinker” label allowed me to avoid asking whether alcohol was actually serving me.

The comfort of comparison

I grew up in a family deeply affected by alcoholism. Compared with them, my drinking barely seemed worth mentioning. I was responsible and high-functioning. I could easily stop at two glasses of wine. I wasn’t at rock bottom and likely never would be.

I finally realized this: I was giving myself far too much credit.

As long as I didn’t cross some arbitrary line, I could dismiss the fatigue, interrupted sleep, low-grade irritability, and promises to myself that I would drink water tonight and invariably end up drinking wine instead.

Comparison gave me permission to keep going.

If I had stopped looking at everyone else, I might have asked a more useful question much sooner: How is alcohol affecting my health and my life?

What does “moderate” actually mean?

When I told friends and family I had given up alcohol, their first response was usually a genuinely surprised “Why?”

The next question was: “How much were you drinking?”

When I would tell them, they were even more confused. Why would a moderate drinker give up drinking?

It’s a fair question since moderation seems like the ultimate, universal goal.

Except I wasn’t really a moderate drinker.

The CDC defines moderate drinking as no more than two drinks in a day for men and one for women. A standard drink is 12 ounces of beer, 5 ounces of wine, or 1.5 ounces of spirits.

This was the kicker for me: I always thought a bottle of wine had four glasses, so I was counting a half bottle as two glasses. A standard bottle of wine actually contains about five standard drinks, not four.

My seemingly innocuous two-glass habit was really two and a half drinks. For a woman, that was two and a half times the daily guideline (no more than one standard drink a day for women).

Then I looked at the weekly numbers. The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism defines heavy drinking for women as four or more drinks on any day or eight or more per week. For men, it’s five or more on any day or fifteen or more per week.

Crap! My two-glass-a-night habit put me squarely in the heavy-drinking category.

My friends and family still saw me as a moderate drinker. So did I. But we tend to define moderation in relation to our own habits and the habits of the people around us. If everyone at the table is pouring another glass, another glass looks perfectly normal.

The guidelines are a useful reality check but aren’t a magic dividing line between healthy and unhealthy because alcohol affects everyone differently. The World Health Organization says there is no form of alcohol consumption that is risk-free, and even low levels carry some risk.

Neither I nor the guidelines can tell you what decision to make. But this is important information to have so you can make that decision for yourself.

The gray area

The first time I heard the term “gray-area drinking,” I had an instant moment of recognition and a profound sense of relief.

The gray area is that wide space between an occasional drink and severe alcohol addiction. You may be functioning well, and you may never experience a dramatic consequence or any of the hallmarks of addiction. You may also suspect that alcohol is taking more than you want to admit.

Two glasses of wine a day may not seem like a drinking problem, and I almost always stopped at two. But for me, two glasses were enough.

Enough to relax me after a long day. Enough to help me fall asleep. Enough to keep me on the couch instead of doing something more fulfilling. Enough to interrupt my sleep. Enough to make me tired and groggy the next morning. Enough to feel disappointed that I hadn’t kept the promise I made to myself.

Then I would do it all over again the next day.

I accepted a general feeling of unwellness as the status quo. I assumed I was tired because I was getting older or working too hard. I didn’t see my drinking as serious enough to justify quitting, so I kept trying to make moderation work.

The label mattered more than the effect alcohol was having on me.

A better question

You don’t have to decide whether you qualify as a moderate drinker, a heavy drinker, a gray-area drinker, or anything else before becoming curious about your habits.

Drinking is something you do. It isn’t who you are.

Try setting aside the labels, the opinions of other people, and the comparisons. Then ask yourself:

Is alcohol taking more from my life than it’s giving?

Here are a few signs that it may be:

• You wake up at 2 or 3 a.m. after drinking.

• You spend more mental energy than you’d like making rules about when or how much you’ll drink.

• You’ve tried to cut back and found yourself back in the same routine.

• You simply wonder how much better you could feel without it.

You don’t need a rock bottom to pay attention to your inner voice. I just wish I had listened to mine sooner.

REFERENCES

• Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. “About Moderate Alcohol Use.” January 14, 2025. https://www.cdc.gov/alcohol/about-alcohol-use/moderate-alcohol-use.html

• National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism. “Understanding Alcohol Drinking Patterns.” National Institutes of Health. https://www.niaaa.nih.gov/alcohols-effects-health/alcohol-drinking-patterns

• World Health Organization. “Alcohol.” June 28, 2024. https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/alcohol

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When my stepmother passed away a few years ago, I had to clean out her apartment. It’s amazing how much stuff she could fit into a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. I counted five pairs of scissors — one in every room. She had not one, but two stepladders. She had enough linens for a family of eight. And it went on and on.

I remember thinking, What in the world did she need with all of this stuff?

Then I thought, Am I any better? Are my kids going to go through my stuff someday and wonder: why in the world did Mom own so many coats?

That experience sent me on a path to try to be a minimalist.

I’m a nomad. It’s the life I choose to lead. I have a home base in New Hampshire, but I spend a lot of time going from place to place. I love being able to spend several months near my kids and grandkids, visit friends in different places, experience different types of nature, explore other cultures, and escape to warmer climates in the winter. It’s certainly never boring.

The downside?

What do I do with all my stuff?

Minimalism helps me keep my home base from becoming just an expensive storage unit.

Benefits of Minimalism

My life may be an extreme example, but you don’t have to live out of a suitcase to benefit from minimalism. At its core, it means owning less of what you don’t need so you have more room for what matters to you, both physically and mentally.

Less stress and anxiety

Multiple studies have shown that cluttered living and working environments contribute to stress and anxiety. This makes sense to me. Think of how peaceful it would be to reach into a drawer and find exactly what you need.

You just need to remember which drawer you keep your one pair of scissors in.

Fewer decisions

I often look at my closet and start humming the tune from The Bangles’ Manic Monday:

And if I had an aeroplane, I still couldn’t make it on time. ‘Cause it takes me so long just to figure out what I’m gonna wear.

Fewer choices can make everyday decisions easier including things like what to wear, what to use, where to put something, and what needs replacing.

Better ability to focus

Even when a room is organized, lots of stuff in your visual field means more things are competing for your brain’s limited attention capabilities. A less cluttered environment can make it easier to focus on what’s important.

Like what to make for dinner.

Time

Think about all of your possessions that require storing, organizing, cleaning, maintaining, or repairing.

Have you ever spent an entire weekend day cleaning out your closet? Or your garage?

My biggest thing was the linen closet. Exactly how many lotions and potions and soaps and miracle wrinkle cures did I actually need?

Money

You don’t need a scientific study to realize that reducing consumption can save money.

When I was cleaning out my stepmom’s apartment, I couldn’t help but calculate in my head how much money she had spent on things she never used. She probably had $100 worth of greeting cards she’d bought for no one in particular.

One unnecessary purchase may not matter much, but repeated over decades, it adds up.

A Gift for Your Family

The Swedish have a term döstädning, or “death cleaning.”

It initially sounds depressing, but the idea is actually pretty practical: deal with your possessions while you’re still able to decide what matters and where things should go, and make things easier for your heirs.

Having cleaned out someone else’s home, I can tell you that it’s not just deciding what to keep. It’s sorting, donating, throwing things away, wondering whether something was important, and trying to figure out what the person would have wanted.

Owning less can eventually be a gift to the people you leave behind.

How to Be a Minimalist

At a certain stage in my life, I realized that experiences contributed more to my wellbeing than accumulating more things— unless those things helped create the experiences, like my pickup truck or stand-up paddleboard.

The high I got from buying that purse, watch, car, or bigger house never lasted. The memories of my experiences do.

Another word for minimalism is “intentional simplicity.” I like this because it’s not about deprivation, bare walls, or competing to see who can own the fewest possessions. It’s about keeping what adds value to your life and questioning the rest.

Here are some simple ways to get started.

Ask: “Would I Buy This Today?”

I am so guilty of holding on to something I no longer need because I paid good money for it.

But then I remind myself: I’ll never get that money back. Keeping the thing doesn’t change that.

If you’re debating whether to get rid of something, ask yourself:

If I didn’t already own this, would I pay money for it today?

If the answer is no, into the donation box it goes.

It also helps me remember this when I’m in a store and realize that I already have enough pairs of flip-flops, scarves, purses, or . . . well, this list could go on for pages.

Pretend You’re Moving

You don’t need to move a couple of times a year like I do.

Just ask yourself: If I were moving next month, would I bother packing this?

It’s surprisingly useful.

Ask Yourself: “What’s the Risk?”

We all keep things “just in case.”

But what actually happens if you get rid of something and discover later that you need it? Like this charging cord—I have no idea what it was supposed to charge.

If it would be inexpensive and easy to replace, borrow, or rent, maybe you don’t need to store it for the next ten years just in case.

Try the One-In, One-Out Rule

This works especially well for things that tend to multiply.

For me, it’s black sweaters.

My rule is that I can’t buy another one unless I get rid of one I already have. This stops me from buying something most of the time.

(Although I found a loophole with off-black sweaters.)

Get Rid of What You Don’t Wear in a Season

I have a friend who says that if she goes through an entire season and there’s something in her closet she hasn’t worn, she gets rid of it.

I made that rule for myself, but I found a loophole by wearing something inappropriate just so I don’t have to get rid of it.

The bell-bottom jeans with embroidery on the bottom might be out of place at the farmers market, but I don’t care.

A good way to see what you actually wear is to turn all your hangers backward. After you wear something, turn the hanger the right way. At the end of the season, you’ll know exactly what never left the closet.

Use a “Maybe” Box

If there’s anything you’re unsure about, put it in a “maybe” box and seal it.

If you haven’t gone looking for anything in it within three to six months, donate it.

Just don’t open the box on the way to the donation center.

Don’t Start With the Sentimental Stuff

If you’re new to decluttering, don’t start with Grandma’s letters or your child’s baby clothes. Start with expired toiletries, duplicate kitchen utensils, clothes you don’t wear, or the junk in your car.

The idea is to build your decluttering muscles before tackling the things with emotional baggage.

Donate While Things Are Still Useful

There are plenty of worthwhile charities that can use your items.

I recently donated some artwork to a thrift shop that benefits the local senior center by providing services like Meals on Wheels. Knowing it was a good cause helped me to let it go.

I also donated a lot of my stepmother’s things. I like to think there’s a school somewhere that’s grateful to have five pairs of scissors.

A good rule is to give something away while it’s still useful to someone else rather than letting it sit in your closet until it becomes obsolete.

Does anyone want my used VCR?

Rent Instead of Buy

I live in St. Pete, Florida for part of the year, where so much of the outdoor lifestyle revolves around the water.

I was considering buying a boat. Instead, I joined a boat club.

For things you’ll only use occasionally, think about access rather than ownership. Depending on what it is, you may be able to rent or borrow it instead of buying something you’ll have to store and maintain.

Perfect for a nomad.

Use the “Good” Stuff

Do you have things you only use for special occasions? Candles, dishes, towels, stationery?

If something is worth taking up space in your home, let it earn that space. Light the candle. Use the dishes. Write on the stationery.

This helps you live in the present, not some imaginary future life.

Come to think of it, tonight I think I’ll use the antique silverware my stepmother left me.

Be Careful About Organizers and Storage Containers

My stepmom also had a storage unit filled with neatly organized bins with labels on them.

Maybe that’s why she needed two stepladders.

As far as I know, she rarely retrieved anything from the storage unit.

Organizing your possessions isn’t necessarily the same thing as needing them. Before buying another storage bin, ask whether you could simply own less.

Take Photos of Sentimental Things

I recently found a dress that my daughter wore as a flower girl in my late brother’s wedding, and it made me smile.

I held onto it for a long time, but then realized that I have photos of her in the dress with my brother. Donating it wasn’t getting rid of the memory.

I like to think that another little girl is creating her own memories in that dress.

Declutter Your Car

Your car is a small place where you can really see an impact.

I decluttered my truck recently in preparation for my move, and it felt surprisingly good.

I still keep one bag with my just-in-case stuff. I keep a bathing suit in it, and I was very happy to have that yesterday when I decided to take an impromptu dip in the lake after a hike.

I repurposed a sweatshirt as a towel.

What I don’t need is four sweatshirts, three pairs of flip-flops, random condiment packets, old parking passes, expired coupons, and seasonal sports equipment.

Declutter Your Phone

Apps don’t take up physical space, but they still compete for your attention whenever you look at your phone.

We all have apps that sounded like a good idea at the time but that we no longer use.

Remember, if you delete an app, you can always reinstall it.

Pro tip: deleting an app doesn’t cancel the subscription, so make sure you unsubscribe too.

Declutter Your Email

I finally unsubscribed from promotional emails from my favorite stores.

This removes some of the temptation to buy something I don’t need just because it’s on sale.

If you don’t want to unsubscribe completely, create a folder for promotional emails so you can look at them when you actually need something instead of having temptation delivered to your inbox all day.

It also keeps your inbox from feeling overwhelming so you can focus on worthwhile updates.

Such as, ahem, this newsletter.

Stop the Stuff Before It Comes In

Decluttering won’t accomplish much if new things keep arriving at the same rate.

Try putting nonessential purchases on a 48-hour pause. If you still want it two days later, you can always buy it. Often, the urge passes.

Where to Go From Here

When Atomic Habits first came out, I saw an interview with James Clear, and something he said stuck with me.

To paraphrase, he said if your room is messy, don’t spend the day cleaning your room only to find it messy again in a few days.

Just pick up a pair of socks.

The idea is that it’s really about identity. It’s becoming the kind of person who does the small behavior consistently, rather than relying on one heroic burst of effort.

The way he puts it: “each action you take is a vote for the person you wish to become.”

Last year, I went on a four-month trip through Hawaii and five countries — New Zealand, Indonesia, Thailand, Bhutan, and Japan — spanning three very different climates.

I had nothing with me except a carry-on suitcase and a backpack.

That experience made me realize what was truly essential.

Did I really need a curling iron to go on a three-day hut-to-hut hike in New Zealand?

Am I perfect? Absolutely not.

I still have to resist buying that cute purse that will probably end up in the donation bin next year, and I still have plenty of family belongings to figure out what to do with.

But I’ve made progress.

So just start with one room, or one drawer.

Or maybe just pick up a pair of socks.

This article is dedicated to my dear stepmother Susan who we were lucky to have in our lives.

Seven years ago, I decided to take September off from alcohol.

I didn’t do it because I thought I had a serious drinking problem, or a drinking problem at all. I just knew on some level that I needed a break, and Sober September was a good excuse. At the time, I didn’t plan on quitting for good. I just thought a break would allow me to have a better relationship with alcohol.

After all, I loved alcohol, especially wine and I didn’t want to give up the benefits. It was like an unhappy marriage I was determined to fix.

That strategy works for some people (and some marriages), but for me, my relationship with alcohol turned out to be irreconcilable. Same with my marriage, but that’s a story for another time.

A thirty day break seemed manageable.

I was surprised by how much changed and how quickly I started to feel better.

I didn’t know how bad I was feeling until I started to feel good.

Within the first week, I began noticing real improvements. The most obvious was that my energy levels went through the roof and I began to feel more like myself again.

The improved energy came initially from sleeping better. And more energy made it easier to exercise and that gave me incentive to eat well. Those changes helped me feel even better, and that improved my energy levels even more.

It turned out to be the catalyst for what I call my upward spiral of wellness.

I decided that I wanted this feeling to last and I’ve never looked back because I’m absolutely a better version of myself now in so many ways. And nobody is more surprised than me that I don’t even miss my beloved wine.

What might YOU notice during Sober September?

Everyone’s experience is different, and results may vary, but here are some of the changes you might notice:

Better sleep

Alcohol can help you fall asleep, but it can also disrupt deep, restorative sleep and contribute to those frustrating middle-of-the-night wakeups.

When you take a break, you may notice that you sleep more deeply and wake up feeling more rested.

More energy

This was the game-changer for me.

When you sleep better and your body isn’t using energy to process alcohol, you may have more energy for exercise, relationships, hobbies, and all the things you keep saying you’ll do when you’re less tired. And all of those things lead to more energy which is a great positive feedback loop.

A calmer mood

Alcohol can temporarily make us feel relaxed, but there’s a rebound effect that can actually make anxiety worse.

When you take a break, you might begin to notice a steadier mood. Personally, I think that makes me a better person to be around.

Better mornings

You may think of a hangover as something from your college days, or picture Bradley Cooper in The Hangover waking up to a tiger in the hotel room.

I did too, but now I realize that my version of moderate drinking was leading to what I call moderate hangovers.

Giving it up for a month made me realize how good mornings could feel without a general sense of unwellness, or vague feeling of being disappointed in myself for not having more willpower to not open the wine.

More time and money

Alcohol is expensive in both money and time. Giving it up for a month can help you discover something more productive or fulfilling to do with your time, and more fun to do with your money.

A clearer sense of what you want

You don’t have to decide today whether or not you’ll drink again when the month is over. It’s better to think of it as an experiment to step outside the habit long enough to see it clearly and how it’s affecting your health and well-being.

At the end of the month, you can decide what role (if any) you want alcohol to have in your life based on your own experience instead of habit, societal expectations, or someone else’s label.

Taking a break isn’t always as simple as not drinking

The instructions for Sober September seem straightforward:

Don’t drink alcohol for 30 days.

But to get the most benefit, it helps to pay attention to what you learn and to be strategic about what you do instead.

• What will you do when you’re stressed?

• What will you order when everyone else is having wine or cocktails?

• How will you handle cravings, explain your choice, or create an evening ritual that you actually look forward to?

• And how will you keep going when the initial motivation wears off?

It’s possible to white-knuckle your way through a month and count the days until you can drink again, but that kind of misses a big opportunity.

It helps to think of it as an experiment in determining what place you want alcohol to have in your life.

How to get more from Sober September

A little preparation can make the month much easier, and a lot more enjoyable.

Remove alcohol from your immediate path

You don’t have to pour everything down the drain, but don’t keep your favorite bottle sitting on the counter staring at you.

Put it somewhere inconvenient, or give it to a friend to hold onto.

Stock up on drinks you actually like

Sparkling water is fine, but that might get boring.

Look up some recipes for few alcohol-free drinks, maybe something with citrus and herbs. This helps an evening drink that still feels like a ritual and you might not even miss the wine or cocktail.

Plan for your usual drinking time

If, like I did, you normally pour a glass of wine while cooking or at the end of the workday, decide a replacement activity in advance.

• Take a walk.

• Make some tea.

• Call someone.

• Put on music.

• Sit outside.

• Read a book.

• Try something new. Maybe find out what the pickle ball craze is all about.

Tell at least one person

Let someone know what you’re doing to hold you accountable so you don’t talk yourself out of it.

Bonus points if they’ll join you.

Make one social plan that doesn’t revolve around alcohol

Go for breakfast, take a hike, see a movie, visit a museum, plan picnic, or meet someone for coffee or brunch.

That helps train your brain that “social” doesn’t equal “drinking.”

Do something fun with the money you save

This is a fun one: calculate what you would normally spend on wine, cocktails, or drinks at dinner.

At the end of the month, splurge on something you’ll enjoy: a massage, a great meal, new hiking shoes, a weekend away, or anything that feels like a little reward.

Don’t just count the days. Make the days count.

Of course, you can do all of this on your own. But support can make it easier to follow through, navigate the tricky moments, and learn from others on the same path.

When I did Sober September, I felt so great and I had this thought: Do other people know about this? Why am I just learning this now?

Years later, after becoming a certified health and well-being coach and learning much more about alcohol and behavior change, I created The Alcohol-Free Wellness Path: Sober September to give other people the guidance and support I wish I’d had.

Sober September Program

It’s a four-week live program for moderate and gray area drinkers who want to take a meaningful break from alcohol in a supportive, judgment-free environment.

Together, we’ll explore:

• The beliefs about alcohol that may be keeping you stuck

• How to manage stress without automatically reaching for a drink

• Practical ways to improve healthy habits

• How to navigate social situations without alcohol

• How to create habits and rituals that make alcohol-free living more rewarding

• What you want your relationship with alcohol to look like after September

You’ll learn alongside a small group of people taking the same journey, with guidance, practical tools, accountability, and a confidential place to talk honestly about your experience.

You don’t need to promise yourself or anyone else that you’ll quit drinking forever. Just show up with curiosity.

Sober September changed my life—it was the single best thing I ever did for my health and well-being. I had no idea when I began that an 30 day experiment that would lead to better health, happiness, freedom, and eventually an entirely new direction for my life.

Your experience might be different.

But you deserve the opportunity to discover it for yourself.

Thinking about Sober September, or Sober October? Click on the links below to learn more.

Sober September Program

Sober October Program

When my son was in elementary school, the students didn’t get much time for lunch, so he got into the habit of eating really fast.

At home, I’d remind him, “Don’t shove food in your mouth so fast.”

One Thanksgiving, my son leaned back from the table, put his hands on his belly and announced, “Boy, I’m shoved.”

I think he invented a new word.

My advice to coaching clients is similar, although I usually phrase it more tactfully than “stop shoving food into your mouth.”

Mindful eating sounds almost too simple to matter. But this one small practice can help you recognize when you’ve had enough, enjoy food more, make healthier choices, and respond differently to stress. It can even cultivate habits of awareness and gratitude that carry into the rest of your life.

And you’re actually present for lunch instead of looking down and wondering who ate it.

Mindless eating can scramble the message

Eating and feeling satiated is about more than filling your stomach. It’s an ongoing conversation between your senses, digestive system, and brain.

Chewing and tasting give your brain sensory information about what you’re eating. Once food reaches your digestive system, the gut-brain axis (including the vagus nerve) helps communicate that food has arrived and fullness is developing.

When you eat quickly while answering emails, watching TV, or scrolling through your phone, you’re less tuned in to that conversation. Slowing down gives both your body and your attention time to register what’s happening, making it easier to notice fullness before you reach the “I’m shoved” stage.

The physical act of eating matters too. Foods like nuts require more chewing, which gives your brain more sensory information and naturally slows you down. Many ultra-processed foods, on the other hand, are engineered to be soft or dissolve quickly, making them easy to eat fast. Have you ever tried to stop halfway through a bag of cheese puffs?

You may enjoy your food more

Mindful eating is about slowing down enough to notice when you’re full, and it’s also about being present enough to enjoy what you’re eating.

Before you even take a bite, your brain is already gathering information from the color, shape, and aroma of the food. Then come the temperature, texture, and flavor. Is it creamy or crisp? Sweet, salty, spicy, or bright? Does the taste change as you chew?

When you’re distracted or eating quickly, you can miss much of that experience. You consume the food, but barely register it. Paying attention stretches out the pleasure: a few bites you truly taste may feel more satisfying than an entire plate you barely noticed.

It also turns appreciation into a practice. When you pay attention to the colors, aromas, textures, and flavors of your food, you’re cultivating a habit of gratitude.

That gratitude habit can travel beyond the table. The more often you pause to appreciate something ordinary, the more likely you are to notice other small pleasures throughout the day: sunlight through the window, a good conversation, or the fact that someone else made dinner.

And no, every meal doesn’t need to become a spiritual encounter with a lentil. It just helps to be there for it.

It can strengthen the brain’s decision-making muscles

Eating mindfully engages the prefrontal cortex, the CEO of your brain involved in attention, impulse control, and rational decision-making. In other words, your thinking brain comes online.

That can influence not only how much you eat, but also what you choose. When you’re running on autopilot, you’re more likely to grab whatever is easiest or most immediately rewarding and that’s not always the healthiest thing. Pausing creates enough space to ask, What would satisfy me and help me feel good afterward?

Mindful eating doesn’t mean you’ll suddenly lose all interest in cake and develop an overwhelming desire for kale. It simply makes it easier to choose intentionally instead of automatically.

Paying close attention to lunch won’t magically turn you into a Zen monk. But it does train you to pay attention. You may start noticing the tension in your shoulders, or even the flowers you normally walk past without seeing.

It may help interrupt the stress-eating cycle

Our old friend cortisol is back.

When you’re stressed, your body releases cortisol, which can increase appetite and cravings for high-calorie foods. You eat something rich or sugary, your brain releases dopamine, you feel temporary relief, and your brain learns the pattern:

Stress feels bad —> Food makes it better —> Let’s do that again.

During stress eating, the amygdala (a key player in your brain’s emotional processing) becomes more active, while the prefrontal cortex becomes less engaged. In other words, your fear center is activated and your logical brain takes a back seat.

You know you don’t really want the second piece of cake, but your thinking brain is temporarily offline, and the cake has apparently learned how to speak to you.

Mindful eating can interrupt that cycle by re-engaging the prefrontal cortex and helping calm the brain’s stress response. It also helps you become more aware of the difference between physical hunger and an emotional urge to eat. That gives you a better chance of making a conscious choice instead of automatically reacting.

How to practice mindful eating

Mindful eating is one of my favorite wellness tools because it’s simple, it’s free, and it doesn’t require adding another task to your calendar. And it has benefits that carry over into other areas of your life.

Start with one snack or meal each day. You don’t need candlelight, a silent retreat, or 45 uninterrupted minutes. Try these six steps.

1. Minimize distractions. Put away your phone, close your laptop, or turn off the TV. If you can’t stand the silence, play some music.

2. Pause. Before the first bite, take three slow, deep breaths. This helps shift your body toward its “rest and digest” state.

3. Pay attention to the first bite. Notice the temperature, texture, aroma, and flavors. How does the taste change as you chew? What do you genuinely enjoy about it?

4. Put it down. Place your fork or spoon down between bites. The pause interrupts the automatic hand-to-mouth rhythm and gives your brain time to receive the message that eating is happening and to register the feeling of fullness.

5. Check in. Ask yourself, “Am I physically hungry, or am I eating for another reason?” Then ask, “What would satisfy me and help me feel good afterward?” There’s no judgment involved. You’re just gathering information.

6. Practice gratitude. Close your eyes, appreciate the food, the fact that you have enough, and say a silent “thank you” to the people who helped it reach your plate.

You don’t have to do all six steps at every meal. Even one mindful bite counts.

As with any new habit, the key is consistency, not perfection. The brain changes through repetition, not through one spectacularly mindful salad followed by three weeks of eating over the kitchen sink.

A surprising benefit of alcohol-free living

When I gave up alcohol, one of the benefits I noticed was that food tasted better. I thought it was my imagination, but it turns out—it’s a thing. Alcohol can desensitize your taste buds (yes, even in moderate amounts), so when you give it up, many people find that flavors and aromas become more vivid.

That renewed appreciation changed more than how much I enjoyed food. The more attention I paid to how food tasted and how it made me feel, the more naturally I gravitated toward foods that nourished me. It became part of what I call the upward spiral of wellness: one healthy change leading to the next.

As someone once said to me, “There are a finite number of meals you’ll have in your lifetime. You should enjoy them all.”

That doesn’t mean every meal has to be fabulous. Sometimes lunch is whatever you found in the refrigerator. But even an ordinary meal can be more satisfying when you’re present enough to taste it.

So try it with one meal, one snack, or even one bite today.

Notice it. Taste it. And above all, enjoy it!

For years, whenever I heard that red wine might be good for my heart, I was happy to believe it.

I wasn’t exactly demanding to see the research.

A glass of red wine with dinner was a lovely indulgence. And I kept hearing it was good for my heart, so who was I to argue?

This idea of red wine being heart healthy became famous in 1991, when 60 Minutes aired a segment about what was known as the “French Paradox.”

The paradox was this: although the traditional French diet appeared to contain plenty of saturated fat (lots of cheese, butter, and croissants), France had historically lower rates of coronary heart disease than the United States and some other countries.

Researchers offered several possible explanations, but the one that captured the public imagination was red wine.

Perhaps something in red wine was protecting French hearts.

And just like that, wine gained a health halo.

The theory we wanted to believe

One proposed explanation of heart healthy red wine involved polyphenols which are plant compounds found in the skins of red grapes.

Polyphenols have antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties and some research suggested that compounds in red wine could affect blood vessels or reduce the tendency of platelets to clump together, potentially lowering the risk of blood clots.

That possibility quickly became something much simpler in the public conversation:

Red wine is good for your heart.

But that statement skipped over several important questions.

• Were the amounts used in lab experiments comparable to what someone would consume in a glass of wine?

• Were any potential benefits caused by wine itself, or by compounds found in grapes and many other plant foods?

• And even if one component of wine had a potentially helpful effect, did that outweigh the known effects of the alcohol surrounding it?

In many lab studies, the concentrations needed to produce a meaningful biological effect were much higher than what someone would get from ordinary wine consumption.

In other words, you might have to drink an absurd amount of red wine to obtain the theoretical benefit—and by then, the alcohol would pose far greater health risks than the polyphenols could offest.

Fortunately, you don’t need alcohol to get polyphenols.

You can just eat the grapes.

Polyphenols are also found in berries, apples, cocoa, tea, olive oil, nuts, herbs, and vegetables.

A country is not a controlled experiment

The bigger problem with the French Paradox is that an entire country’s health can’t be explained by one item on the dinner table.

When researchers compare populations, countless differences may affect the results:

• portion sizes

• meal patterns

• physical activity

• smoking rates

• socioeconomic conditions

• access to healthcare

• stress

• food quality

• reporting and diagnostic practices

The traditional French diet wasn’t simply an American diet with a glass of Bordeaux added.

French meals tend to be more structured with smaller portions and people often eat more slowly and snack less. Traditional eating patterns include vegetables, legumes, fish, fruit, and meals prepared from basic ingredients rather than the same quantity of ultra-processed food found in the standard American diet.

So the explanation was far more complicated than one factor. France has also had one of the highest smoking rates among OECD countries—yet no one would conclude that smoking protects the French from heart disease.

But this doesn’t make a particularly irresistible headline:

Eat smaller portions, cook more meals, consume less ultra-processed food, move regularly, maintain strong social connections.

This one does:

Drink red wine. It’s good for you.

The message outlived the evidence

The French Paradox became culturally powerful because it gave us permission to believe something we really wanted to believe:

Alcohol isn’t merely pleasurable, it’s protective and part of a healthy lifestyle.

And the phrase “in moderation” makes it feel responsible.

I bought into that message for years. It gave me one more reason not to question my own drinking. Why would I give up something that helped me relax, made dinner more enjoyable, and might even help me live longer?

But today, the evidence doesn’t support drinking alcohol for better health.

That doesn’t mean every glass of wine will cause disease or that someone who occasionally drinks red wine is making a catastrophic decision.

It simply means wine is not a health food.

You can get the same polyphenols from foods and beverages that don’t also contain ethanol. Just eat the grapes!

Keep the pleasure. Question the promise.

The French Paradox gave alcohol one of the most successful wellness makeovers in modern history. A complicated population-level observation became a reassuring prescription: drink red wine for your heart.

File that under Convenient Theories for You.

So, if you drink wine, be honest about why. Maybe you enjoy the taste, or you like the ritual, or it makes you feel relaxed or helps you feel part of the occasion.

But don’t drink it because you think your heart needs it.

It doesn’t.

When we were kids, my brother Adrian would walk around the house rehearsing this line from Macbeth spoken after he learns of Lady Macbeth’s death:

Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

To Adrian, it meant to not waste your life fretting. But I always found it depressing—Macbeth seems to be saying that our lives are temporary and meaningless.

I was reminded of this recently when I read this quote:

I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations. — George Bernard Shaw

Much better.

It’s a deeply human desire to feel that our lives matter—to burn our splendid torch brightly so our lives have meaning beyond our brief hour upon the stage.

Yet modern life seems to direct us towards seeking pleasure and acquiring things rather than seeking meaning.

Human motivation evolved in environments where seeking food, security, status and opportunity was important for survival. In an environment of abundance, those same reward systems can keep us pursuing the next thing without producing lasting satisfaction.

And we’re living in an unprecedented age of abundance. Many of us living in relative comfort are no longer occupied primarily with survival.

And yet we’re experiencing the ever-increasing rates of anxiety and depression, even in materially prosperous societies.

Pleasure is part of a good life, but it may not be enough to sustain a fulfilling one.

In this time of abundance, searching for pleasures can sometimes feel hollow. We end up on the hedonic treadmill—adapting to what we have and always reaching for the next thing. A bigger house. A bigger bank account. A more luxurious vehicle. More power. More prestige. More ice cream.

Maybe pleasure is only part of the story.

Meaning and Purpose

Recent research consistently finds that a stronger sense of purpose is associated with lower rates of depression and anxiety, better physical health, and longevity.

Purpose doesn’t guarantee happiness or health. But it can give us direction, help us make sense of our lives, and connect our daily choices to something larger than ourselves.

Still, the pressure to search for some grand purpose can create its own sort of existential crisis.

But what if our purpose in this life wasn’t something grand? What if it lives in the day-to-day? In the small acts of kindness, creation, courage, and connecting with our fellow human beings in small but meaningful ways?

We feel alive when we care deeply, contribute, create, help, learn, love, and become absorbed in something beyond our own comfort and grievances.

You don’t have to become a doctor; you can bandage a child’s wound.

You don’t have to become a monk; you can practice loving-kindness.

You don’t have to save the planet; you can care for the patch of earth around you.

You don’t have to build a school; you can teach someone what you know.

You don’t have to lead a movement; you can stand up for something that matters to you.

You don’t have to solve someone’s grief; you can simply sit beside them.

You don’t have to change the whole community; you can make one person feel like they belong.

You don’t have to solve homelessness; you can let a friend sleep on your couch.

Using the Life You Have

As Shaw also wrote:

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live.

Much of modern life is organized around comfort: avoiding stress, inconvenience, boredom, discomfort, or uncertainty. Yet the experiences that make us feel most alive often require effort, vulnerability, courage, and commitment.

Maybe the goal is not to arrive at the end of life perfectly rested, unbothered, and untouched. Maybe it’s to have loved, contributed, attempted, risked, learned, and participated—to be thoroughly used up.

When did you last feel completely awake, absorbed, curious, useful, moved, or connected?

What Alcohol-Free Living Made Possible for Me

A friend once me that she doesn’t drink because alcohol isn’t part of her culture. Her community’s philosophy is that they always want to be available, present, and clear-headed in case someone needs them.

I didn’t quit drinking for some magnanimous reason. But always being fully available for my loved ones has turned out to be more meaningful than I ever imagined. It was an unexpected gift of the alcohol-free lifestyle.

And sharing what I’ve learned from my experience with gray area drinking brings me more fulfillment than any luxury vehicle ever could.

If this article helped you see the world a little differently, then writing it has added meaning to mine. So, thank you for reading.

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REFERENCES:

Boreham, I. D., & Schutte, N. S. (2023). The relationship between purpose in life and depression and anxiety: A meta-analysis. Journal of Clinical Psychology, 79(12), 2736–2767.

Czekierda, K., Banik, A., Park, C. L., & Luszczynska, A. (2017). Meaning in life and physical health: Systematic review and meta-analysis. Health Psychology Review, 11(4), 387–418.

Cohen, R., Bavishi, C., & Rozanski, A. (2016). Purpose in life and its relationship to all-cause mortality and cardiovascular events: A meta-analysis. Psychosomatic Medicine, 78(2), 122–133.

So much of human behavior is subconscious and we don’t even know why we do some of the things we do.

Like our response to everyday stressors.

Many people use alcohol as a stress coping mechanism—I know I did. But most people don’t reach for a glass of wine the moment they get a tense email at work.

If they do, their boss may have some follow-up questions.

For many gray-area drinkers, the wine habit is more subtle than that. It’s not one dramatic stressor but the accumulation of a hundred tiny moments: the email, the meeting, the traffic, the family logistics, the decision fatigue, the unfinished task, the news alert, the thing you forgot, the thing you remembered too late.

By the end of the day, your nervous system isn’t reacting to one thing, it’s a million little things. Reaching for a glass of wine or beer or cocktail starts to feel automatic and it becomes the way to exhale.

That was my ritual and even though I knew it was only relief in the moment that I would eventually regret, it was hard to resist because my subconscious brain had learned a loop:

Long day → wine → relief.

Or more specifically:

Work mode → transition cue → couch → wine → exhale.

One reason people reach for a cocktail at the end of the day is that by then, their decision-making abilities are already depleted by a million tiny decisions they had to make during the day from what to have for breakfast to how to prepare for a work meeting to where to go on vacation.

That’s when the subconscious mind takes over and willpower fades.

If you’re trying to break the habit, it helps to understand the subconscious loop. And spoiler alert: it’s not because you’re weak and have no willpower.

The problem with “just do yoga instead”

Before I stopped drinking, my after-work ritual would be: come home, kick off my shoes, get into my yoga clothes, pour a glass of wine, and plop down on the couch.

Please appreciate the comedy here: I was wearing yoga clothes.

The yoga was implied.

The wine was actual.

At the time, I would have said wine helped me relax, and it did. Not in a lasting, restorative way, but in a fast, reliable, brain-learned way. It marked the end of the day and told my body, “You’re done now.” It created a transition from work mode to home mode.

The transition was what I needed.

The mistake would have been to simply remove the wine and leave everything else the same.

Same long day.
Same stress load.
Same yoga clothes.
Same couch.
Same restless body.
Same brain saying, “Ahem. Aren’t we forgetting something?”

This is why so much wellness advice often doesn’t work. It tells us what to do without understanding what the old habit was doing for us.

“Don’t drink.”
“Do yoga.”
“Take a bath.”
“Go for a walk.”
“Practice breathwork.”
“Journal.”
“Make tea.”

All good suggestions. I give them myself.

But they’re still just suggestions unless we understand the loop.

The missing piece

I recently read Jud Brewer’s Substack article “Doing Everything Right and Still Anxious,” and it helped clarify something I’ve been trying to articulate in my own work.

Brewer writes that a lot of wellness and lifestyle advice relies on a familiar model: prescription, education, and willpower. We tell people what to do, explain why it matters, and then expect them to follow through.

But that model is incomplete because it doesn’t account for how the brain actually learns—through reward-based loops:

Trigger.
Behavior.
Reward.
Repeat.

That’s true for anxiety, worry, smoking, scrolling, and overeating.

This is why simply telling someone to “manage stress” can fall flat. As a health & well-being coach, I’ve been guilty of this—giving clients stress management techniques like a menu: breathing, yoga, journaling, meditation, nature, exercise. All good things, but if the technique doesn’t break the loop, it may not help much.

Brewer gives the example of a patient who practiced box breathing for months and found it did nothing for their 3 a.m. worry spirals. That doesn’t mean box breathing isn’t highly effective for anxiety, it just means that it wasn’t what that particular client needed.

When a technique doesn’t work, many people assume they failed. But maybe they didn’t fail, it was just that the technique didn’t match the loop.

Wine wasn’t just a drink, it was a transition.

For me, and so many gray-area drinkers, the evening cocktail isn’t just about taste and it’s not even only about alcohol. It’s a ritual that says:

The workday is over.
I can stop being productive now.
I can take off the armor.
Nobody gets anything else from me for a few minutes.
Relief has arrived!

That’s a powerful reward.

So if you remove the wine but don’t replace the transition, your brain may still feel unfinished. It may still be waiting for the cue that says the day is done.

This is why the question isn’t simply, “What should I do instead of drinking?”

The better question is: “What was alcohol doing for me, and how can I meet that need in a way that actually makes my life better?”

That question changes everything.

Choose your own after-work ritual

The goal isn’t to copy someone else’s relaxation routine. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all prescription. I’m not telling you that you’re one breathwork practice, magnesium mocktail, or gratitude journal away from inner peace.

Some people need quiet.
Some people need movement.
Some people need connection.
Some people need solitude.
Some people need music.
Some people need a walk.
Some people need to lie on the floor, breathe, and do absolutely nothing for a few minutes.

The point isn’t the specific activity but to create a new loop that gives your brain a better reward.

For me, the cue stayed the same.

I still came home.
I still kicked off my shoes.
I still put on my yoga clothes.

But instead of pouring a glass of wine and plopping on the couch, I actually did yoga.

Revolutionary, I know.

At first, it required intention because my brain still associated that time of day with wine. But over time, the new loop became familiar:

Long day → yoga clothes → yoga → real relief.

The relief was better without numbing or escaping or making me tired the next morning. It took time but I started noticing that my body felt better, my mind felt clearer and I even slept better. I woke up proud of myself instead of disappointed that I had broken another promise I made to myself.

The research on neuroplasticity shows that you’re never too old to rewire your brain and set healthier trigger → behavior → reward loops.

And you don’t have to beat yourself up to be more disciplined or feel ashamed that you don’t have enough willpower. Neuroplasticity works by giving your brain a new experience often enough that it starts to believe you and it becomes automatic.

Full confession: I don’t do yoga every evening or even most evenings anymore.

The point is that yoga helped me break the association between “end of workday” and “wine.” Once that loop loosened, other possibilities opened up: taking a walk or a bike ride, learning Spanish, calling a friend, reading a book, learning a new recipe, going to the sauna at the Y, or going to the beach to watch the sunset.

I’ve discovered so many things that are much more fulfilling and life-giving than vegging out on the couch every evening. And yes, sometimes I simply order a pizza and plop down on the couch with a cup of tea and binge watch Shrinking because I’m too tired to do anything else. But I’ve created enough habit loops that I honestly don’t even think about wine anymore.

What kind of relief do YOU actually need?

Before you choose your after-work ritual, pause and ask what you’re really craving at the end of the day.

Is it calm?
Then maybe your ritual is yoga, stretching, a bath, gentle music, meditation, breath exercises, or simply a quiet moment with a cup of tea.

Is it release?
Then maybe it’s a brisk walk, a bike ride, dancing in your kitchen, some somatic breathwork, journaling, or shaking off the day like a golden retriever.

Is it comfort?
Then maybe it’s soft clothes, soup, a weighted blanket, a book, or a cozy show you actually enjoy.

Is it transition?
Then maybe it’s changing clothes, lighting a candle, taking a shower, going outside, or closing your laptop and saying out loud, “Work is done.”

Is it connection?
Then maybe it’s calling a friend, sitting with your partner without multitasking, playing with your kids or grandkids, or texting someone, “Tell me something good.”

Is it space?
Then maybe it’s ten minutes alone before you start the next shift of dinner, dishes, caregiving, or family life.

I thought I’d be missing out if I gave up my nightly wine ritual. But it turns out, I’m doing the things I never would have done if I hadn’t given up the wine.

Those were the things I was actually missing out on.

The upward spiral starts with one redesigned moment

My work is about showing people that alcohol-free wellness isn’t just about removing alcohol and it’s not about deprivation. A full, happy alcohol-free life is about redesigning the moments alcohol used to occupy with something even better.

The end of the workday is one of those opportunities to fill your life with rituals that support your journey and train your brain to associate relief with something other than alcohol.

That’s the practical application of habit-loop change.

Not “try this one technique.”
Not “use more willpower.”
Not “become the kind of person who relaxes perfectly.”

It’s simply this:

Notice the loop.
Understand the reward.
Create a better ritual.
Repeat it until your brain learns.

That is how the upward spiral begins.

One cue.
One better ritual.
One better reward.

And eventually, you may find yourself doing the thing you were dressed for all along.

REFERENCES

This piece was inspired by Jud Brewer’s article on why stress-management advice often fails when it doesn’t address how your brain learns.

This weekend is a celebration.

The 4th of July means cookouts, beach days, fireworks, boats, music, sparklers, burgers on the grill, and gathering with people we love.

And for a lot of people, it also means alcohol.

So if you’re questioning whether sobriety is for you, newly alcohol-free, taking a break, or just trying to cut back, you might be wondering:

Will this still feel fun without drinking?

I get that question.

There’s a classic study where researchers watched children draw. At first, the kids drew because they liked drawing. Then the researchers promised them a reward for drawing. They wanted to see what the children would do when the reward was removed. Those same children who loved to draw became less interested in drawing without the reward.

The reward had changed the meaning of the activity.

I think alcohol can work the same way.

If wine is always part of dinner, cocktails are always part of Friday night, champagne is always part of celebration, and beer is always part of 4^th of July, your brain can start to link the pleasure of the moment with the alcohol.

So when you remove the alcohol, the celebration may feel flatter at first.

Not because the meal isn’t good.

Or the music isn’t fun.

Or the people aren’t interesting.

Or because fireworks are suddenly boring.

But because your brain got used to the extra reward.

That doesn’t mean alcohol-free celebration is less joyful. It means your brain may need a little time to remember where the real joy was coming from.

The food.
The music.
The conversation.
The laughter.
The water.
The sunset.
The feeling of being fully present for your own life.

One of the gifts of alcohol-free living is realizing the real reward was still there all along.

You just have to keep picking up the pencil and drawing.

So if you want to make this weekend better, don’t just “not drink.” Give your brain something else to look forward to.

1. Bring something you actually want to drink: sparkling water, kombucha, iced tea, a fun mocktail, or anything that feels festive in your hand.

2. Plan the part of the day you’re most excited about: swimming, a walk, watching fireworks, making the best potato salad of your life, taking photos, playing with the kids, getting up early the next morning, or driving home clear-headed and peaceful.

3. Decide ahead of time what you’ll say if someone offers you a drink. Something simple is enough: “I’m good for now,” “I’m taking a break,” or “I feel better without it,” or just “no thanks.”

And then pay attention.

Notice what’s better.

Notice how good it feels to remember the whole day, to have real conversations, to laugh without wondering if you said too much. Or to wake up without the 3 a.m. anxiety, the headache, the regret, or the vague sense that the weekend somehow slipped away from you.

This 4th of July, I’ll be doing something I never would have done when I was drinking.

I got my boat captain’s license and joined a boat club, so I’m taking friends out in Newburyport. We’ll eat fabulous food, connect, laugh, swim, and enjoy the scenery and wonders of nature.

Some people will have sparkling water. Some may have a cocktail.

And they can, because I’ll be driving the boat.

Will I feel like I’m missing out because I’m not drinking?

Not even a little bit.

That’s the part I wish I could hand to anyone who is still in the “Will this be sad?” stage.

At first, alcohol-free celebration can feel like something is missing.

But eventually, it can feel like something has been returned to you.

Your presence.
Your energy.
Your peace.
Your next morning.
Your freedom.

And that is absolutely worth celebrating.

Happy 4^th of July!

You may have seen a headline something like this: Couples Who Drink Together Are Happier Together.

Helpful. Just what every sober-curious person needs to hear while wondering whether taking a break from alcohol will make them boring, difficult, or suddenly incompatible with the person they love.

And you may think:
What if this creates distance in my relationship?
What if we don’t have as much fun?
What if my partner thinks I’m judging them?

A couple of studies have looked at whether couples with similar drinking patterns report better relationship quality than couples whose habits don’t match.

The headlines made it sound like alcohol was the secret ingredient in happy relationships.

But that’s not quite what the research says.

What the Studies Actually Found

In 2016, a study by Birditt and colleagues looked at older married couples and whether their drinking patterns were associated with marital quality over time.

The finding that made the headlines: couples with concordant drinking habits reported better relationship quality than couples whose habits were discordant.

In other words, drinkers were generally happier with drinkers, and non-drinkers were generally happier with non-drinkers.

Another study from New Zealand looked more closely at drinking frequency and quantity — not just whether people drank, but how often and how much they drank. That study also found that couples were less happy when their drinking patterns were more mismatched.

Of course, that makes sense.

A non-drinker paired with a heavy drinker is not simply dealing with a different beverage choice. They may be living in a different rhythm altogether: one person wants a quiet evening and the other wants another round. One person is thinking about sleep, health, emotional clarity, or what they want their life to feel like. The other is planning the next night out.

That’s not just a drinking difference.

That’s a lifestyle difference.

Why the Headlines Miss the Point

Headlines like Couples Who Drink Together are Happier Together makes it sound like it’s the alcohol that makes couples happy.

But what the authors of the Birditt study highlight is that shared drinking can represent shared leisure, shared routines, more time together, or similar lifestyle expectations. In other words, the alcohol may not be the magic ingredient. The similarity and shared rituals may be doing the heavy lifting.

It’s not the alcohol that binds, it’s the lifestyle.

Why Quitting Can Feel Threatening In a Relationship

If you’re sober-curious and your partner isn’t, it’s normal to wonder whether your relationship will change.

It probably will, at least a little.

But change doesn’t automatically mean disconnection. It may simply mean you need to become more intentional about connection.

For many couples, alcohol is woven into the small rituals of everyday life: dinner out, vacations, holidays, parties, weekends, sex, stress relief, and celebrations.

So when one person removes alcohol, the other person may feel like something shared will be lost.

And they may have questions they don’t know how to ask:

Does this mean you think I drink too much?
Are you judging me?
Will you still want to go out?
Will we still have fun?
Are you changing and leaving me behind?

The decision to go alcohol-free or even experiment with the lifestyle is very personal. But your partner may still experience it as a relationship change.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.

It just means it’s worth talking about.

What to Do when You Quit and Your Partner Doesn’t

When one partner quits drinking and the other doesn’t, the real issue may not be the drink itself. It may be the sudden mismatch: how you socialize, unwind, celebrate, spend weekends, handle stress, become intimate, and connect.

Deciding to go alcohol-free, or even taking a temporary break, doesn’t mean your partner has to do the same.

It also doesn’t mean you’re doomed to become one of those unhappy mismatched couples from the studies.

But it does mean you may need to be more intentional about your routines, your communication, and the ways you connect.

Here are a few places to start.

Have the conversation.
Communication is the cornerstone to any successful relationship.

It doesn’t have to be dramatic. It doesn’t need to start with “we need to talk,” which is possibly one of the most triggering sentences in the English language.

You might simply say:

“I’m going to take a break from alcohol for a while. I’m not asking you to stop, but I’d love your support while I figure out what place I want alcohol to have in my life.”

Or:

“I’ve noticed I feel better when I don’t drink, so I’m going to experiment with alcohol-free living for a bit. I still want us to have fun and do things together. I just want to try doing them without alcohol.”

This reassures your partner that your decision is not automatically a referendum on them.

Make it about your well-being, not their drinking.
Use “I” language:

“I want to see how I feel.”
“I sleep better without it.”
“I feel calmer.”

That lands differently than:

“Alcohol is bad.”
“We drink too much.”
“You should try this too.”

This can go a long way in assuring your partner that this is something you’re doing for yourself and you aren’t judging them.

Even if your partner is supportive, your change may still feel like a mirror. The less you make it about their drinking, the safer the conversation becomes.

Be specific about what support looks like.
Asking for concrete support can help your partner know how to help: not refilling your glass, not teasing you, keeping non-alcoholic drink options at home, checking in before suggesting drinks, or being willing to try a few alcohol-free activities.

You may or may not suggest that your partner try it with you, but remember that this is something you’re doing for yourself.

Keep some familiar rituals, but change the drink.
Friday night on the porch doesn’t have to disappear. Dinner out doesn’t have to disappear. Vacation doesn’t have to disappear. The ritual can stay while the beverage changes.

Create new shared leisure.
If alcohol was equivalent to shared leisure with your partner, then experiment with new patterns: morning coffee, walks, cooking, hiking, movies, live music, pickleball, beach days, yoga, trivia night with non-alcoholic beer, weekend breakfast dates, or travel that isn’t centered around bars. You may find that this opens up opportunities to connect on a new level.

Decide what you can tolerate and what you can’t.
For me personally, I don’t care if my partner drinks. Everyone has their own path and my decision to quit drinking was something I did for myself and my own well-being, not for anyone else. And I believe that it’s healthy to have interests that you don’t share with your partner. But there’s a difference between being with someone who enjoys a drink and being with someone whose life revolves around alcohol.

You may be completely fine with your partner drinking moderately. Or you may discover that certain situations are harder than you expected: alcohol in the house, every weekend centered around bars, or being the only sober person in every social setting.

It’s not healthy to expect your partner to change just because you changed. But it is fair to decide what you need in order to feel healthy, grounded, respected, and connected in your relationship.

When it’s more than a mismatch.
I want to be clear that I’m referring to moderate, social or gray area drinking, not harmful drinking. If your partner’s drinking creates chaos, fear, emotional harm, financial problems, unsafe situations, or repeated broken trust, that’s a different situation.

That might require more than a better conversation or a new date-night plan.

Organizations like Al-Anon have helped millions of people who are worried about a loved one’s drinking. Therapy, support groups, and trusted friends can also help you think clearly about what you need.

The Real Lesson
The research didn’t prove that alcohol improves relationships.

It suggests that couples do better when their habits, rituals, and expectations are aligned.

So if you decide to go alcohol-free and your partner doesn’t, the goal is to be intentional and keep the relationship a priority. It’s to become intentional about staying connected while making a healthy change.

To ask: What do we still enjoy together? What new rituals can we create? What kind of life are we building? What supports the healthiest version of us?

Because alcohol may have been part of the ritual. But it wasn’t supposed to define the relationship.

REFERENCES

Birditt, K. S., Cranford, J. A., Manalel, J. A., & Antonucci, T. C. “Drinking Patterns Among Older Couples: Longitudinal Associations With Negative Marital Quality.”

Meiklejohn, J., Connor, J. L., & Kypri, K. “Drinking Concordance and Relationship Satisfaction in New Zealand Couples.”

You may have heard the headlines about the World Health Organization declaring that “no level of alcohol is safe.” Or the new study in the Journal of Studies on Alcohol and Drugs that found “no protective effect from low levels of alcohol.”

Wait a minute.

That flies in the face of what we were told for years: people who drink in moderation are healthier than people who abstain.

Studies that tracked health outcomes for drinkers and non-drinkers supposedly proved that. Results of the studies are depicted in the “J curve” and it looks something like this:

From this curve, it appeared that people who drank “moderately” had the lowest health risk. So the logical conclusion was: alcohol must have some protective health benefit.

Red wine received special attention for its supposed health benefits.

The theory goes something like this: the French eat plenty of cheese, butter and other rich foods, yet historically seemed to have lower rates of heart disease than expected. This became known as the “French Paradox.” It was thought that red wine had some protective effect.

Researchers thought there might be two things going on.

1. Red wine contains the polyphenols, the antioxidants found in the skin of red grapes. These compounds were thought to protect blood vessels, reduce inflammation, prevent blood clots, and lower LDL oxidation.

2. Some studies suggested that alcohol might raise HDL, the so-called “good cholesterol.”

So the message many of us heard was not just that moderate drinking was okay, but a glass of red wine could be good for us.

That’s a very appealing story, and I certainly bought into it. But appealing stories are not the same as good science.

Turns out, the amount of antioxidants in red wine is so tiny that you’d have to drink an absurd amount of wine to get any benefits—at which point the alcohol would be doing more harm than the antioxidants could possibly offset.

Pro tip: just eat the grapes.

The Flaw in the Studies: The “Sick Quitter” Problem

Not all scientific studies are created equal.

One major problem in the older studies was how participants were classified. Some people in the abstinence group were former drinkers who had stopped drinking because of health problems.

This is known as the “sick quitter” problem.

If people who quit drinking because they were already sick are grouped together with people who never drank, that makes the abstinence group look less healthy. And it makes the moderate drinkers look healthier by comparison.

Consider this analogy: someone who quit smoking because they have lung disease may be sicker than someone who only smokes occasionally. Does that mean smoking occasionally is healthy for you? Of course not.

When researchers correct for this problem and only include people in the zero alcohol consumption group who never drank alcohol, the supposed health benefit is nowhere to be found. The graph actually looks more like this:

Alcohol is Not Healthy in Any Amount

Here’s a fact that we’ve known for decades, yet is not yet common knowledge:

In 1988, the International Agency for Research on Cancer, an agency of the World Organization, classified alcohol a Group 1 carcinogen. That’s the same category as tobacco and asbestos.

That doesn’t mean every drink will cause disease; it means that alcohol is a known human carcinogen, and no level of consumption is risk-free. It also means that nobody should drink because of any perceived health benefits.

Some people can drink regularly and never have any obvious health consequences. My friend’s mother has a glass of white zinfandel every day at 4:00. She’s 96.

Other people experience consequences from amounts most people would consider moderate.

We don’t need scare tactics; we just need accurate information.

If you understand the risks, you can decide which risks you’re willing to take. But nobody should drink because they believe alcohol is good for their health.

Confusing Guidelines

The 2025-2030 Dietary Guidelines in the U.S. moved away from the prior recommendation of no more than one drink a day for women and two for men. The new guidelines use broad, vague language: drinking less is better for your health.

Drinking less than what, they didn’t say.

Public health groups, including the American Association for the Study of Liver Diseases, criticized the omission of specific alcohol limits and the lack of gender-specific guidance. (Sorry ladies, I know it’s not fair, but women metabolize alcohol differently than men.)

Reuters reported that a study commissioned to help inform the U.S. Dietary Guidelines about alcohol’s health effects was not used in the final 2025-2030 guidance.

Wait, what?

The U.S. Government commissioned a study to help them decide on public policy and then ignored it?

Why?

Follow the Money

The alcohol industry is a $300 billion industry. It accounts for more than 1.6% of the entire U.S. economy and generates nearly $70 billion in annual tax revenue.

The alcohol industry wants everyone to keep drinking, and they have a powerful lobby to influence public policy.

According to reporting by Reuters and the Associated Press, the alcohol industry pushed back hard against the study and worked to discredit it. And in the end, the study was left out of the final guidance — a result that certainly worked in the industry’s favor.

I’m not saying that proves industry pressure was the only reason. But when a federally commissioned study raises concerns about alcohol, the alcohol industry lobbies against it, and the final public guidance leaves the study out, it’s fair to ask:

Whose interests are being protected?

What the Sidelined Study Actually Found

Since this study wasn’t used in determining the final Dietary Guidelines, let’s look at what it actually said.

The Alcohol Intake and Health Study found no net protective effect from drinking, even at low levels. It estimated that around seven drinks per week was linked to roughly one alcohol-attributable death per 1,000 people over a lifetime. At 14 drinks per week — the former upper limit for men in the U.S. Dietary Guidelines — the estimated risk rose to 1 in 25, or 4%.

That doesn’t mean one glass of wine is going to cause disease. It means the risks are measurable, and people deserve to know what they are.

The link to the study is below.

What Do We Do With This Information?

My goal is to empower you with information, not to shame, blame, or judge.

“No amount of alcohol is healthy” doesn’t mean that every drop of alcohol will cause disease, it means that no level of alcohol consumption is without risks.

If you understand the risks, you can decide that for yourself and make an informed decision.

Don’t let the alcohol industry make that decision for you.

So if you drink, drink because you like it—not because you think it’s healthy.

And if you’re wondering whether alcohol is taking more than it’s giving, you can take our free assessment here.

No judgment, no labels, just information.

Reference

George et al., Alcohol Intake and Health Study, Journal of Studies on Alcohol and Drugs, 2026

Maybe you’ve heard the usual sleep advice: no screens before bed, cool, dark room, no caffeine after noon, breathwork, meditation, no late-night meals. I tried them all. Even the hard stuff like going to bed and waking up at the same time every day.

Sometimes the routines worked, but many nights I woke up at 3 am and was awake for hours.

The sleep routines started to feel like an exercise in futility, so I gave up trying.

Then in 2019, when I took a break from drinking, I realized something that should have been obvious: no bedtime ritual had a chance when I was sabotaging my sleep with alcohol.

It’s hard for a bedtime routine to do its job when alcohol is working the night shift.

The myth – alcohol helps me sleep

One of the sneakiest things about alcohol is that it tricks you into thinking that it helps you sleep.

And in one way, it does. Alcohol is sedating and that feels really good, especially if you’ve had a stressful day when your nervous system is buzzing and your brain refuses to close its 47 open tabs.

But falling asleep and sleeping well are not the same thing.

As alcohol wears off, sleep becomes lighter and more fragmented. It can disrupt REM sleep, blood sugar, stress hormones, temperature regulation, and the natural rhythm of your sleep cycles. That’s why the classic alcohol wake-up tends to be around 3 a.m.

So if you tried all the sleep advice while alcohol was still in the picture, maybe the habits didn’t fail.

Maybe they never got a fair shot.

The clean slate

Better sleep is one of the promises of sobriety, but it doesn’t always happen instantly or perfectly.

Once alcohol is removed, you’re not necessarily back to your untouched pre-drinking baseline. If you’re like me, that was somewhere around middle school.

Alcohol-free sleep isn’t just the absence of alcohol. It’s learning what your body needs now—adapting to your new normal.

A few habits to try again

It’s always mind boggling to me that insomnia is so common. It should be the most natural thing in the world, but modern life gives our nervous systems a lot to process. If you’re struggling, you’re not alone.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because my sleep tracker has been telling me I’ve been knocking it out of the park. To be clear, I’m not recommending that everyone should be ruled by a sleep tracker, but for me, it’s useful to see what works and what doesn’t.

These are the habits that have made a huge difference for me.

1. Get morning sunlight.

This one is so simple that it’s hard to believe it can work.

Morning light tells your body, “It’s daytime.” That signal helps set your circadian rhythm, which is your internal clock for sleep, energy, hunger, alertness, and mood.

Light, especially sunlight in the morning starts the circadian clock so your brain knows when to start winding down at the end of the day. It’s about a 16-hour clock, so getting sunlight first thing in the morning is ideal for winding down for an 8-hour sleep window.

It doesn’t have to be complicated. Step outside for a few minutes, or drink your coffee or tea near an open window. Better yet, take a short walk. Let your eyeballs tell your brain the day has begun.

2. Keep the bedroom boring.

Your bedroom is not a second living room.

Your brain is an association machine. If your bed is where you scroll, work, watch tv, answer emails, and worry about the future of civilization, your brain won’t see it as a sleep cue. It may see it as a command center.

Keeping the bedroom boring helps teach your brain: this is where we sleep. That’s it. No plot twists, no drama.

3. Try a weighted blanket.

I don’t usually like to recommend things that cost money, but this one made such a huge difference for me that I have to mention it.

The idea is that gentle pressure can calm the nervous system, almost like a steady, full-body exhale. It’s sometimes described as deep pressure stimulation, but the non-scientific explanation is: it can make your body feel safe enough to stop bracing.

It may not work for everyone, and it’s not for babies or anyone who would have trouble moving under the weight. But for some people, it creates a feeling of safety and stillness that makes it easier to settle.

4. Protect your wake-up time

We’ve all heard that you should go to bed at the same time every night and wake up at the same time every morning, but that sounds easier than it is in real life.

What worked better for me was protecting my wake-up time first.

No matter what time I went to bed, I tried to wake up around the same time. Eventually, bedtime started to naturally move earlier on its own because I was tired at the appropriate time and it was easier to sleep.

Think of wake-up time as the anchor, and once that’s steady, the rest of the rhythm has something to organize around.

Now, I don’t even set an alarm on most days, which still feels like a tiny miracle.

5. Make your evening “smaller”

You don’t have to focus on doing everything perfectly, and your evening doesn’t have to become like a spa commercial.

But if your evenings are overstimulating with too much news, emotional problem solving, and work emails, it can tell your brain that the day isn’t over yet and that can disrupt your peace.

Your brain doesn’t go from stimulation straight into deep sleep just because you put on pajamas. It needs a ramp down.

So try fewer decisions, fewer open tabs, less doomscrolling.

6. Use red light bulbs

Seriously. Red light bulbs.

In the grand scheme of human history, the light bulb is a relatively modern invention. Bright lights at night can confuse your primitive brain and disrupt your circadian rhythm because light is one of the main signals your brain uses to decide whether it’s day or night.

Red light is much less likely to send the “rise and shine” signal. It gives you enough light to move around without making your bedroom feel like a convenience store at midnight.

I even use a red light bulb in my nightlights so if I wake up during the night, I don’t inadvertently turn a bathroom trip into a full wake up.

7. Have a middle of the night plan, including a bathroom plan

The 3 a.m. wake-up is familiar to a lot of people who drink alcohol. But some of us, especially those of us of a certain age, wake up for another reason: we have to pee.

Very glamorous. Very human.

If this happens regularly, it can help to look at the timing of your liquid intake. Many of us under-hydrate during the day and then try to make up for it at night, which is basically sending your bladder a calendar invite for 2:48 a.m.

Try hydrating more earlier in the day and going lighter on fluids in the last couple of hours before bed.

If you do still need to get up, try not to make the bathroom trip a full wake-up event. Don’t look at your phone, check the time, or turn on lights.

It’s worth noting that if you’re getting up multiple times during the night, it’s worth checking with your doctor.

(For more tips to try, see my article on 10 Lessons From Our Ancestors on Sleep and Insomnia.)

Try it like an experiment

Instead of following sleep rules like a perfect wellness robot, notice what works for you.

Some people are sensitive to late exercise because it takes a longer time for their core body temperature to cool down. Some people can drink coffee after dinner and sleep like a house cat. Others, like yours truly, can’t even look at a cappuccino after noon. Not even decaf.

The best sleep routine is partly detective work.

What wakes up your brain? What settles your body? What have you tried before and given up on? And the big question: was alcohol still in the picture when you tried it?

Pick one habit and try it for a week or two.

Ask yourself:

• Which sleep habit have I tried before and given up on?

• Was alcohol still in the picture when I tried it?

• What would I be willing to test again for one week?

• What does my body seem to need now?

I can’t promise that any one habit will work for you.

But I can promise you this: the effort is worth it.

Better sleep doesn’t just make you less tired. It changes the whole next day. It makes movement easier, cravings calmer, patience more available, and healthy choices more of a default.

That’s the upward spiral.

Not one dramatic transformation, but one small improvement making the next one easier.

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I participated in a sober month three times.

The first time, I caved halfway through and went right back to my old patterns almost immediately. The second time, I “cheated” while on vacation. Pro tip: don’t start a sober month when you’re planning a trip to Mexico.

The third time was the charm.

But here’s the thing: I had absolutely no intention of quitting forever. I loved alcohol, especially wine. I didn’t want to break up, I just wanted a better relationship with it.

That’s the phrase we use, isn’t it?

“My relationship with alcohol.”

I’ve used it plenty of times myself, so I’m not judging the phrase. But lately I’ve been wondering if calling it a relationship gives alcohol a little more power than it deserves.

Because alcohol isn’t a person. It doesn’t care about us or miss us when we leave, and it certainly doesn’t sit around wondering how it could have treated us better.

And yet, for years, I treated alcohol like a bad marriage I was determined to fix.

I thought if I tried harder, communicated better, set better boundaries, made clearer rules, and stopped overreacting, maybe things would improve. Maybe we could still have fun together and stop fighting. When nothing worked, I thought maybe we just needed a little space.

A sober month would be like a trial separation, and afterward we’d come back together in a healthier, happier way.

Spoiler alert: that’s not how it worked for me.

And I want to be really clear here: this is my story. I’m not saying everyone who drinks, or everyone who has trouble moderating, needs to quit. We all know people who can moderate successfully, they drink occasionally and don’t think about it very much.

Some marriages can be fixed.

Mine was irreconcilable.

For me, moderation wasn’t freedom because it required constant negotiation. Not because I was weak, or because I lacked discipline, or because I was secretly a terrible person pretending to have her life together. Moderation became exhausting because I was asking my brain and body to manage an addictive substance.

That’s a big ask.

Why moderation seems like the obvious goal

The alcohol industry tells us to “drink responsibly,” which sounds reasonable enough. Just be normal. If you drink too much, stop doing that. Have “just one” and don’t make a big dramatic thing out of it. And worst of all, don’t become one of those people who “can’t” drink.

Just learn how to drink like a responsible adult.

It sounds like something a mature, disciplined, health-conscious, successful person should be able to do. And that was part of what made it so frustrating for me.

I had done plenty of hard things in my life. I put myself through college, built a career, raised kids, built a business, solved problems, pushed through difficult seasons, and generally prided myself on being someone who could figure things out.

So why couldn’t I figure this out? Why couldn’t I just have a glass of wine once in a while?

Why did “I’m only drinking on weekends” turn into Thursday because Thursday was basically the weekend? Why did “I’m not drinking at home” turn into “Well, this bottle is already open”? Why did “I’m not drinking during the week” turn into “It was a stressful day and I deserve this”?

Why did every rule seem perfectly reasonable in the morning and completely negotiable by 5 p.m.?

That’s the part I don’t think we talk about enough. The problem wasn’t only the drinking.

The problem was thinking about drinking.

The hidden mental load of moderation

For me, moderation came with a lot of rules.

Only on weekends.
Only one.
Not at home.
Not alone.
Not during the week.
Only after 5 p.m.
Not before an early meeting.
Only wine or beer, not cocktails.

Only if it was a “special occasion,” which, as it turns out, can include birthdays, vacations, holidays, dinners out, dinners in, stressful days, boring days, sunny days, rainy days, and Tuesdays.

The rules weren’t the problem in theory. But the necessity of rules was actually evidence that alcohol had power over me because if it didn’t, I wouldn’t have needed so many rules around it. I don’t need rules about how much broccoli I’m allowed to eat on a Tuesday night.

But every time I broke one of my own drinking rules, I woke up feeling like a person who couldn’t keep the promises I made to myself. And that felt awful.

That’s the shame spiral alcohol can create:

Set rules. Break rules. Feel shame. Promise to do better. Go back to step one.

It’s like being in a relationship where you keep saying, “This time will be different,” while all your friends are secretly wondering when you’re going to see what they see.

Except in this case, the friend is usually your own inner wisdom, and she’s been trying to get your attention for years.

It’s not a moral failing

One of the most freeing things I learned is that struggling to moderate alcohol is not a character defect.

Alcohol is a drug. It affects the brain, nervous system, sleep, stress chemistry, cravings, mood, energy, and decision-making. It is a psychoactive, addictive substance, even when it comes in a beautiful glass, paired with a cheese board, and described as having notes of blackberry and leather.

Wanting more of an addictive substance doesn’t mean you’re broken. It usually means that your brain and body are responding exactly the way human brains and bodies respond to an addictive substance.

Alcohol gives the brain a temporary reward and that can create a short-term feeling of relief, ease, connection, or escape. The brain remembers that.

Had a stressful day? Wine helps.
Feeling socially awkward? A drink helps.
Want to celebrate? Champagne helps.

Feeling bored, lonely, anxious, tired, overstimulated, underwhelmed, or just vaguely itchy in your own skin? Alcohol starts raising its hand like an overeager student in the front row.

Pick me! Pick me! I can help.

This is not a willpower problem. It’s a learning problem.

Your brain learns that alcohol equals relief. Your body learns that alcohol is part of how you unwind. Your habits learn that this is what you do at 5 p.m., on Fridays, at dinner, on vacation, after hard days, at parties, when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re stressed, and when you’re bored.

Once that habit loop is established, moderation can become difficult not because you’re doing something wrong, but because your brain and body are doing exactly what they were designed to do: learn from repetition.

Your conscious brain is trying to say “don’t drink,” but sometimes your subconscious brain calls the shots. (Excuse the pun.)

The alcohol-use continuum

Another thing that helped me understand my own drinking was seeing alcohol use as a continuum.

It’s not as simple as “normal drinker” on one side and “alcoholic” on the other. That thinking misses a huge middle ground, which is where a lot of gray area drinkers live.

On one end of the continuum, someone may drink occasionally, enjoy it, and not drink again for weeks. They don’t think about it much, make rules around it, or wake up regretting it.

Everyone wants to be that person.

Then there’s the rest of us in the middle—the gray area.

This is where drinking may still look pretty normal from the outside, but inside, something starts to shift. A glass of wine becomes the way to transition from work to evening. A drink becomes the reward for surviving the day. Drinking becomes less about celebration and more about relief.

The rules start. The negotiations start. The “I really should cut back” starts. The “I’ll be better next week” starts.

The tricky thing is that the change usually happens slowly. We may keep trying to get back to some earlier version of drinking that may not really exist anymore: the version that felt easy, carefree, and uncomplicated. Like when you first met and he always brought you flowers and held the door for you.

Moving down the continuum can feel almost effortless, while trying to climb back up can feel like walking uphill on ice. Barefoot. In the rain.

This is why “just go back to moderate drinking” may not be as simple as it sounds.

For some people, it’s possible. For others, the effort required to stay in that moderate zone becomes so exhausting that it stops feeling like freedom.

And if that’s you, it doesn’t mean you failed.

It may simply mean alcohol is doing what alcohol does.

When moderation stops feeling like freedom

Here’s where I want to be careful, because I don’t think people should give up on moderation at the first sign of trouble. You don’t walk out of a marriage because you had one bad week. You try to communicate, set boundaries, maybe go to counseling.

In the same way, some people may need to honestly try moderation before they know whether it works for them. That might mean setting clear limits, tracking how they feel, taking a break, reading books about drinking less, or experimenting with different strategies. There’s value in giving it a real shot, not as a way to beat yourself into submission, but as a way to gather honest information.

But if you keep trying, and it still feels like constant negotiation, that’s worth noticing.

For me, the most powerful shift was realizing I didn’t have anything to prove. I didn’t have to keep auditioning for the role of “person who can just drink occasionally.” I didn’t have to keep trying to become someone for whom alcohol was easy, casual, and uncomplicated.

Because for me, it wasn’t and never would be.

And when I stopped trying to fix the relationship, I felt at peace.

No more rules. No more negotiations. No more waking up at 3 a.m. with wine anxiety. No more wondering why I said yes when I had promised myself I would say no. No more trying to make alcohol into something it was never going to be for me.

The exhausting conversation was finally over.

And there was so much relief in that. True freedom.

That’s what I wish I had understood sooner.

Some relationships just run their course. Alcohol and I had some good times, and I have fond memories, but we just weren’t right for each other.

Again, that doesn’t mean this is the answer for everyone. But it was the answer for me.

You don’t have to go straight to the divorce lawyer at the first sign of problems. But if you’ve tried the boundaries, the counseling, the rules, and the fresh starts, and the relationship still leaves you feeling smaller, more anxious, and less free, maybe it’s okay to ask whether the relationship is worth saving.

Apparently, I’m the divorce lawyer.

But that doesn’t mean I think everyone needs a divorce.

A simple experiment

If you’re wondering about your own drinking, you don’t have to make a grand declaration, use a label, announce your plans, or decide anything forever.

Just get curious.

For one week, try this, and keep a journal if it helps:

1. Notice the mental space.
   Don’t focus only on how much you drink. Notice how much you think about drinking.

2. Pay attention to the rules.
   What rules do you make for yourself? Do you keep them? How do you feel when you don’t?

3. Track the tradeoff.
   After you drink, notice how you feel later that night and the next morning. Did drinking give you what you hoped it would give you? Did it cost you anything?

4. Notice where you feel freer.
   Do you feel more free when you drink, or more free when you don’t?

At the end of the week, ask yourself:

Is moderation helping me feel healthier, calmer, and more free?

Or is it keeping me in constant negotiation?

These questions are not a verdict. They’re useful information.

Shame says, “What is wrong with me?”

Curiosity says, “What is this trying to show me?”

Curiosity is much more helpful.

Also, less bossy.

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When I told one of my closest friends that I decided to quit drinking, she was incredulous. “Why??” was all she said.

And I understood the confusion. I wasn’t at rock bottom. I wasn’t drinking in the morning. I wasn’t hiding bottles or blowing up my life. From the outside, I looked like a perfectly “normal” moderate drinker.

I didn’t know how to answer her. Not because I didn’t know the reason, but because the answer was so big that I couldn’t even articulate it.

That was six and a half years ago. Here’s my “why”:

• My sleep improved. Drastically.

• I have more energy. Actually, that’s an understatement. I have a crazy amount of energy. Sometimes I can hardly contain it.

• I started wanting to exercise more.

• I had the desire to fuel my body and brain with nutritious food so my diet got a big upgrade.

• I lost weight without trying. No more empty calories, sluggish mornings, or couch potato evenings.

• My mood became more steady.

• My relationships improved. I no longer have that simmering underlying irritability and (you’d have to confirm with my loved ones) I believe that I became a better person to be around.

• Notice what’s not on the list is a rock bottom moment.

Sobriety is my superpower. Every single area of my health and mental well-being improved when I gave up “moderate drinking.”

It was the catalyst for what I call my upward spiral of wellness.

And I think that’s what gets missed in so many conversations about sobriety. We tend to frame alcohol-free living as subtraction: no wine, no cocktails, no happy hour, no fun. But for many of us, it becomes addition. More energy. More clarity. More patience. More self-trust. More mornings that actually feel good.

If someone asks me today why I went alcohol-free, I reply:

“Because I believe that I show up in the world as a better version of myself.”

I became so passionate about human flourishing that I changed careers and became a health and wellness coach. I find it much more fulfilling than accounting. (No shade to all the accountants out there.)

Many of these improvements just happened naturally as the result of removing alcohol. But many of them required some intention. Giving up drinking is a great start, but your life doesn’t magically return to what it was before you ever picked up a glass.

If you drink to manage stress, you need tools that help you regulate stress naturally. If you use alcohol as a social lubricant, you need strategies to navigate events with confidence. If alcohol has become a crutch for difficult feelings, you need other ways to support your well-being. If you drink to fit in, you may need to rethink the environments that make drinking feel obligatory.

If you’re rethinking your relationship with alcohol, you don’t have to start by declaring forever. You can start by getting curious. What would change if you slept better? What would you do with more energy? How would your mood, food choices, movement, confidence, or relationships shift if alcohol wasn’t quietly working against you?

That’s why I help people incorporate wellness habits into their lives—because quitting drinking is often just the beginning of feeling better.

Sobriety is a great wellness strategy, and wellness is a great sobriety strategy.

That’s the real promise of alcohol-free wellness: not a smaller life, but a bigger one.

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May is mental health awareness month. It got me to thinking, what’s something affecting my mental health that I can actually do something about?

For me, it’s the news.

I took a break from the news a few months ago and I felt better. But then I went to brunch with a few friends and I felt like an idiot because I wasn’t aware of something major that had happened.

So a complete news ban isn’t the answer.

There’s a lot to be anxious about. War. Inflation. Political chaos. Climate disasters. AI changing the workplace faster than most of us can process. It makes sense that we keep reaching for our phones and remotes. We’re trying to understand what’s happening, feel prepared, and not to be blindsided.

This desire to doomscroll is instinctual. Our brains are wired to scan for danger. The amygdala, the brain’s fear center, helps us detect threats in the envoirnment. If our ancestors heard a rustle in the grass, it made sense to look. Maybe it was nothing, or maybe it was a lion. The brain that paid attention survived.

Today’s problem is that “rustle in the grass” is now constant. It’s breaking news, alerts, comments, videos, headlines, and a glowing rectangle with an infinite feed. To our brain’s primitive fear center, everything feels like a lion is chasing us.

And the way many platforms are designed with outrage, comparison, alerts, and algorithmic rabbit holes can be rough on mental well-being.

Doomscrolling gives the illusion of control. We think, “If I know more, I’ll feel better.”

But often, each new headline adds another threat without giving us anything useful to do. And that can leave us feeling helpless, angry, afraid, and exhausted.

And yet, not keeping up can create its own anxiety. We fear missing the next crisis, the next warning, the next thing everyone is talking about, the next thing we’re supposed to have an opinion about.

FOMO, Fear of Missing Out has become FOBO, Fear of Being Oblivious.

We don’t have to look away to protect our mental health. But we also don’t have to marinate in it all day long to be good citizens.

I have a friend who sends me news clips and wants to engage in a discussion about the latest terrible thing happening in the world. I finally said this:

“I need to compartmentalize this stuff. If there’s something you want me to do, send it to me. If there’s a protest you want me to join, a cause you want me to donate to, a candidate you believe I should vote for, or an event where I can volunteer, I’m all ears. Otherwise, I need to protect my sanity.”

I don’t need more outrage, I need more agency. If information helps me take meaningful action, I want it. If it only leaves me swearing at my phone, I need a boundary.

Here are some tips to create boundaries and keep your sanity.

Choose windows, not drip-feeds.
Check news once or twice a day instead of letting alerts interrupt your whole nervous system. Turn off your alerts.

Use real sources, not algorithm soup.
Go directly to a few credible news sources instead of letting social media decide what’s most emotionally activating.

Ask: “Is this helping me act, or is it just making me spiral?”
If it leads to action, great. If it only leads to dread, pause.

Pair information with agency.
Donate, call a representative, help a neighbor, volunteer, check on a friend, support a food pantry, learn a useful skill.

End with something regulating.
After reading hard news, take a walk, breathe, stretch, make tea, or step outside. Better yet, look for something that reminds your nervous system the world is bigger than the headlines: the sky, the trees, the mountains, the steam rising from your tea.

Protect the first and last hour of the day.
No war, layoffs, politics, or comment-section cage fights before your feet hit the floor or before you try to sleep.

This week, try noticing how you feel before and after you scroll. Not with judgment, but with curiosity. Does your body feel calmer or more activated? Do you feel clearer or more helpless? More connected or more alone?

The goal isn’t to stop caring or to stop taking action.

The goal is to stop confusing constant exposure with compassion.

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Have you ever met someone who’s like Eeyore?

“Has anyone seen my tail?”

You know the type. Nothing is ever quite right. The weather is too cold, then too hot. The coffee is too weak, then too strong. If they won the lottery, they’d probably complain about the taxes.

And then there’s the opposite: the Pollyanna type. The person who somehow finds a silver lining in everything. The person who can get stuck in traffic and say, “Well, at least I get to listen to my podcast.”

Depending on your mood, that person is either inspiring or just plain annoying.

But I think Pollyanna was onto something.

When you’re hunting for the glad things, you sort of forget the other kind.

That doesn’t mean pretending everything is wonderful when it isn’t. It doesn’t mean toxic positivity or denial. Life is hard sometimes. People get sick. Jobs are stressful. Families are complicated. Cars break. Someone may even clip your side mirror while you’re parked and minding your own business. (Ask me how I know about that one.)

But our experience of life is shaped not only by what happens to us, but by what our attention keeps feeding.

And that’s where gratitude journaling comes in.

Your brain is always scanning for what’s wrong

Our brains evolved to keep us alive, not necessarily happy.

That means we’re naturally wired to notice threats, problems, risks, and annoyances. From a survival perspective, this makes sense. If our ancestors missed the beautiful sunset, no big deal. If they missed the saber-toothed tiger, bigger problem.

But in modern life, our primitive brain’s negativity bias can leave us constantly scanning for what’s wrong, what’s missing, what’s unfair, what’s annoying, and what might fall apart next.

And because life always gives us something to worry about, complain about, or obsess over, our brains can get very good at finding the bad stuff.

Gratitude journaling helps counterbalance that.

It trains your brain to notice what’s good.

Gratitude journaling isn’t about grand, dramatic gratitude

When people hear “gratitude practice,” they may think they’re supposed to come up with things like:

I am grateful for the miracle of existence and the infinite beauty of the cosmos.

And sure, that’s lovely.

But sometimes gratitude sounds more like:

Trader Joe’s got my favorite chocolate bar back in stock.

And yes, I have actually written that in my journal.

It counts. In fact, the small stuff is sometimes the most impactful.

A text from a friend checking in on you. A beautiful meal. Clean sheets. A good hair day. A walk outside. A sunny day for your picnic. The baby smiling at you in the grocery store. Finding a parking spot. Remembering there are leftovers in the fridge. Getting to bed early at the end of a long day.

These little moments are easy to miss.

Gratitude journaling helps you catch them.

The magic is in the noticing

The powerful thing about gratitude journaling is that it doesn’t just work when you’re writing in the journal.

It starts to work during the day.

When your subconscious brain knows there will be homework at the end of the day, you naturally stat looking for the positive.

You notice the good moment while it’s happening.

The person who held the door for you. The sun coming through the window. The fact that the car only got a clipped mirror instead of sideswiped.

That’s the real magic. Gratitude journaling trains your brain to “hunt for the glad things.”

And once you start hunting for them, you start finding them everywhere.

Science backs this up

This isn’t just a cute idea from Pollyanna.

In a classic study by Robert Emmons and Michael McCullough, people who kept gratitude journals felt better about their lives, were more optimistic, had fewer physical symptoms, and exercised more than people who focused on hassles or neutral life events.

So yes, the Pollyannas were happier than the Eeyores.

Who would have guessed?

The point isn’t that grateful people have perfect lives. They don’t. The point is that gratitude helps shift the spotlight. It reminds the brain that stress, irritation, and fear are not the only things worth noticing.

Gratitude is not a replacement for real change

Gratitude journaling doesn’t mean you should be grateful for everything.

You don’t need to be grateful for toxic relationships, burnout, injustice, grief, chronic stress, or someone behaving badly.

Gratitude isn’t a spiritual bypass. It’s not a way to talk yourself out of your own feelings. It’s not a reason to stay in situations that need to change.

It’s simply a way to make sure your brain isn’t only feeding on what’s wrong.

You can be grateful for your morning coffee and still know you need a new job.

You can appreciate a beautiful sunset and still be grieving.

You can write down three good things and still have a hard day.

Both can be true.

A simple gratitude journal practice

The best thing about this practice is how simple it is.

Basically, it’s therapy for the cost of a spiral notebook and a pen.

Here’s how to start:

Keep a journal and pen where you’ll see them.
If you want to write before bed, put them on your nightstand. If mornings are better, keep them near your coffee maker.

Don’t worry about spelling or grammar.
This is not for publication. No one is grading your gratitude journal. Thankfully.

List five things you’re grateful for.
They can be big, small, meaningful, ordinary, ridiculous, or chocolate-related. They can be as detailed or as brief as you want.

Include the small stuff.
Sometimes the more mundane, the better. Gratitude doesn’t have to be profound to be powerful.

Be consistent.
You’re training your subconscious brain to look for what’s good and that takes repetition.

Make it contagious.
You can also invite your family to join you. At dinner, in the car, or before bed, ask: “What’s one good thing from today?” They may roll their eyes. But keep going.

Gratitude can be contagious in a good way. It can change the tone of a conversation. It can help everyone remember that even on hard days, there were still small moments of goodness tucked inside.

And sometimes that’s enough to shift the whole day.

Tonight, try writing down five things you’re grateful for.

They don’t have to be impressive.

They don’t have to be deep.

They just have to be true.

What’s one small, ordinary thing you’re grateful for today? Leave a comment — I’d love to know what glad things you’re hunting for.

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Reference

Emmons, R. A., & McCullough, M. E. (2003). Counting blessings versus burdens: An experimental investigation of gratitude and subjective well-being in daily life. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 84(2), 377–389.

A friend once told me she doesn’t like it when I say that I’m sober.

“It makes it sound like you were a falling-down drunk,” she said. “And I know that’s not true.”

I understood what she meant. But it also made me think about how much baggage we attach to the words we use around alcohol.

Just as society tends to judge people who drink too much, society also judges people who don’t drink at all. It reminds me of this skit:

“Have you ever noticed that anyone driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone driving faster than you is a maniac?” — George Carlin

That same kind of judgment shows up around alcohol, too, and it gives the word “sobriety” a stigma.

I don’t share that negative association. I know people who’ve overcome alcohol addiction, and I have enormous respect for the courage it takes to change your life. There is no shame in recovery. Sobriety is something to be proud of.

But language has a way of collecting meaning over time. For many people, “sobriety” has come to mean recovery from addiction.

So if I’m not “sober”, what am I?

That brings up an interesting question for me. Drinking is something you do or don’t do, it’s not who you are. But we have a lot of language to describe drinking habits as identity. Fill in the blank: I am sober, a teetotaler, a social drinker, a moderate drinker, a problem drinker, an alcoholic.

Identifying ourselves around our drinking habits gives alcohol way more power than it deserves.

We don’t have identifiers for other things we ingest. I eat broccoli. Does that make me a social broccoli ingestor? A moderate broccoli consumer? A broccoholic?

Just like I might say “I eat broccoli,” I simply say “I don’t drink.”

Power to the broccoli.

Sometimes people assume that I don’t drink because I “can’t” drink, but I don’t concern myself with their opinion. I don’t judge someone who says, “I don’t eat broccoli.” (Well, maybe just a little.)

Another assumption is that people who don’t drink are somehow missing out. They assume that we go out to dinner and longingly look at a glass of wine that we “can’t” have or go to a wedding and feel sad that we have to toast with club soda instead of champagne. I can tell you from personal experience that when you’re intentional about building a life full of joy and meaning, alcohol simply becomes irrelevant.

Alcohol isn’t something I can’t have, it’s something I don’t want.

If you’re trying to decide what place alcohol should have in your life, putting aside labels and stigmas can give you the breathing room to be honest with yourself.

You don’t have to decide whether you’re sober, a moderate drinker, a problem drinker, or anything else before you’re allowed to question alcohol. You can simply ask: Is this adding to my life? Or is it taking more than it gives?

And if you’re worried about what other people will think, remember this bit of wisdom:

“You’ll worry less about what people think about you when you realize how seldom they do.” — David Foster Wallace

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For years, I drank wine to relax.

It took the edge off. It helped me exhale. It quieted the noise in my head at the end of a long day.

At least, that’s what I thought it was doing.

What I didn’t understand was that alcohol was not relieving my stress. It was creating a cycle: temporary relief, followed by rebound stress, followed by the urge to drink again the next day.

I didn’t know I was caught in it until I stepped out of it.

The Part That Didn’t Make Sense

I started drinking in my teens. (Hey, it was the 80’s, a time of sex, drugs and rock & roll.) I didn’t drink because I was stressed, but because I liked how it made me feel. It made me less inhibited, more comfortable, more socially at ease. It worked. Not that I condone teenage drinking, but my friends and I had a blast in high school and college.

Later, I went through the most stressful years of my life: raising kids, running a home daycare, finishing college, navigating the end of a marriage, and trying to hold everything together.

And during that time, I barely drank.

Not because I made some noble decision. I just didn’t have the bandwidth. I was too busy adulting.

Then life got easier.

I had more freedom, more of a social life, more reasons to drink. It started innocently enough: a glass of wine out to dinner, drinks with friends, a toast at a celebration, a work event.

But over time, something shifted.

I went from enjoying a drink to wanting one every night.

Then needing one.

That’s what confused me for years: why didn’t I “need” alcohol when life was hardest, but later — when life was objectively easier — I did?

The answer was both simple and unsettling:

the alcohol itself was making me more stressed.

The Alcohol-Stress Cycle

Alcohol is a sedative. In the short term, it slows things down and creates a relaxing effect.

You feel calmer.
Less tense.
Less keyed up.
A mild sense of euphoria.

That’s the buzz.

But it’s only half of the story.

Alcohol changes brain chemistry quickly. It boosts calming signals, activates reward pathways, and suppresses alertness. That’s why the first drink can feel like such a relief.

But your brain is always trying to maintain balance.

So when alcohol pushes things in one direction, your brain compensates by pushing back in the other.

As the alcohol wears off, calming signals drop. Alertness rises. Reward chemicals dip. Stress can come back stronger than before.

That’s the rebound effect.

So the same drink that relaxed you at night can leave you feeling more anxious, irritable, edgy, or emotionally fragile the next day.

And what sounds good when you feel that way?

A drink!

This is how the alcohol-stress cycle works:

Drink → feel relief → rebound stress → drink again

It doesn’t always look dramatic. In fact, for many people it looks incredibly normal.

A glass of wine after work.
Cocktails on the weekend.
A drink to take the edge off.
A drink because you’ve “earned it.”

But if alcohol is increasing your baseline stress in between drinks, then what feels like relief may actually be temporary relief from alcohol-induced discomfort.

That’s the trap.

It’s Not Just in Your Head

Alcohol affects more than mood. It also activates the body’s stress system and releases cortisol, your body’s main stress hormone.

As it wears off, it can contribute to:

• feeling on edge

• increased heart rate

• restless sleep

• irritability

• next-day anxiety

Over time, this can make your whole system more reactive.

Which means the drink that once felt relaxing can slowly make you less resilient, not more.

Even Moderate Drinking Can Do This

You don’t have to be a heavy drinker for alcohol to affect your stress levels.

This is one reason gray area drinking can be so hard to recognize. Nothing looks obviously wrong. You’re functioning. You’re doing what everyone else is doing. You may even consider yourself a moderate drinker.

I did.

But looking back, I can see that alcohol was affecting my mood far more than I realized. I had a low-grade irritability that I thought was just age, or being overextended.

Maybe some of it was.

But maybe some of it was alcohol keeping me stuck in a cycle I didn’t know existed.

What Changed When I Stopped

When I stepped out of that cycle, I found something I wasn’t expecting:

peace.

Not every second of every day, obviously. I’m still a human being with a nervous system and a life. But the background static faded. I felt steadier. Less reactive. More like myself.

It turned out I didn’t need alcohol to manage stress.

I needed to stop using the thing that was making it worse.

A Question Worth Asking Yourself

If you feel more anxious, irritable, overwhelmed, or emotionally reactive than you used to…
if you keep reaching for a drink to relax…
if you’ve started to wonder why life feels harder than it should…

it may be worth asking:

Is alcohol actually helping me cope — or is it just recycling my stress?

Sometimes the peace you’re looking for isn’t at the bottom of the glass.

It’s on the other side of the cycle.

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I went to the grocery store last weekend and I had a bit of sticker shock at checkout.

I couldn’t help but think of people who are trying to feed their families on a tight budget. Inflation is hitting us all. And with rising prices of gas and fertilizer, it may not be getting better any time soon.

At the same time, we’re told that we should be eating healthier.

The Big Misconception

I was reminded of a conversation I had with a friend a few years ago about eating a healthy diet.

We were talking about the merits of a whole-food plant-based diet, and he said something that a lot of people believe:

Eating healthy is expensive.

I understand where that comes from. But eating healthy doesn’t necessarily mean shopping at high-end grocery stores or buying only organic.

Healthy food can be expensive—but it doesn’t have to be.

What Healthy Actually Means

The key to any healthy diet is simple: eat real food.

Not ultra-processed products. Not foods with long ingredient lists and packaging with misleading health claims.

Real food.

And some of the most affordable foods out there fall into that category:

Beans, rice, oats, potatoes, and frozen or canned fruits & vegetables.

Not protein bars, vegan packaged snacks, or trendy superfoods.

Packaged foods are marketed as healthy with slick branding and big advertising budgets. Real food doesn’t need that.

When was the last time you saw an ad for lentils?

The Truth About Cost

In a previous article, I wrote about protein and how it doesn’t only come from meat and dairy. Plants are not only rich in protein—they’re some of the most nutrient-dense and affordable foods on the planet.

Meat is one of the most expensive foods per calorie that you can buy.

Beans and lentils are some of the cheapest.

And they’re incredibly versatile. You can make chili, tacos, soup, burgers, curry, pasta dishes, salads… you name it.

Other inexpensive nutritional powerhouses:

• Beans (so many varieties!)

• Lentils

• Oats

• Potatoes

• Bananas

• Frozen spinach

• Rice

• Peanut butter

• Carrots

• Apples

Ultra-processed foods may have low price tags, but they aren’t actually cheap.

They’re designed to be less filling, so you eat more, and buy more. And over time, a diet high in ultra-processed foods can lead to health issues which makes them far more expensive in the long run.

What it Actually Costs

Cooking healthy doesn’t have to be complicated.

I have a few go-to meals that I cook in batches, which saves time and money. I always have some great leftovers in the fridge and it reduces the temptation to order takeout on a busy day.

Here’s what a simple, healthy meal costs:

Beans, brown rice, stewed tomatoes and broccoli. $1.35 per serving.

If you’re looking for more ideas, here are some sites with recipes for simple, inexpensive meals.

Good and Cheap: Eat Well on $4/Day

Plant-Based on a Budget

Budget Bytes

How to Eat Healthy on a Budget

A few simple strategies can make a big difference.

Buy in bulk. You’re not paying for fancy packaging.

Buy frozen. Frozen fruits and vegetables are just as nutritious as fresh. And they’re cheaper because there’s less waste.

Buy in season. Produce is always more affordable when it’s abundant.

Buy store brands. Lower cost. Similar quality.

Cook in batches. This saves money, time, and reduces the temptation to order takeout.

Accessibility and Food Insecurity

My friend and I also talked about something important—access.

In some areas, especially lower-income neighborhoods, dollar stores have replaced grocery stores, limiting access to fresh food and increasing reliance on ultra-processed options. That’s a real issue.

It’s also important to acknowledge that for many people, it’s about access to resources.

In recent years, pandemic-era increases in SNAP (food assistance) benefits have expired, so many households saw a significant drop in support while food prices were still rising. And food banks across the country are seeing increased demand and stretched resources.

If you’re in a position to do so, donating to your local food pantry can make a real difference.

Alcohol

If you think about how much money you save (or could save) by not drinking alcohol, it adds up quickly.

And when that money starts going toward food that actually fuels you, it becomes part of the upward spiral: more energy, better choices, and momentum that builds on itself.

Healthy eating doesn’t have to be perfect or expensive. It just has to be more intentional. Small choices add up over time.

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My uncle has been sober for more than 40 years.

When I was in my 20s, I asked him what he did for fun.

His eyes lit up as he started listing everything he loved including playing cards with his buddies, working in his workshop…
Then he gave me a sly smile and said, “I chase your aunt around the house… and sometimes she lets me catch her.”

I always loved his sense of humor.

And I never forgot the real lesson from that conversation:
You don’t need alcohol to have fun.
Or to have a full, connected life.

And over time, I realized that it works the other way too.

When your life is full—when you have things you care about and people you genuinely enjoy—you don’t sit around wishing you were drinking.

You don’t feel like you’re missing anything.

There’s actually research that points to this.

In the 1970s, Canadian psychologist Bruce Alexander ran a series of experiments that became known as the “Rat Park” studies.

They placed rats isolated in small cages with a bottle of plain and a bottle of drug-laced water and they could drink whichever they wanted. The rats invariably chose the drug-laced water to the point of overdose and death.

Alexander had a theory: maybe it was boredom and loneliness that made them choose the drugged water. So he and his colleagues created a Rat Park where the rats were able to play with toys, socialize with other rats, and mate.

When they had space, connection, and things to do, they lost interest in the drug.

Male rats were 19 times less likely to drink the drugged water. They still tried it occasionally, but not obsessively.

Of course, humans aren’t rats, but it makes you think.

What does your environment look like?
What are you reaching for when you’re bored and lonely?

If your life feels a little flat, a little repetitive, it makes sense that a drink would fill that space.

But maybe the goal isn’t just to remove the drink, but to build something better around it.

Your own version of Rat Park.

I’d love to hear… What does yours look like?

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If you listen to food marketing today, you would think protein deficiency is a national crisis.

It isn’t.

And just to be clear — I’m not here to stir up any protein controversy. Protein needs vary depending on your age, activity level, and personal goals.

This isn’t about how much protein you should eat.

It’s about two things:

· clearing up a common misconception about where protein comes from, and
· bringing attention to the nutrient most Americans are actually missing

Large analyses of national nutrition surveys show that about 90% of Americans already get enough protein. Even with newer guidelines suggesting higher intakes, true protein deficiency remains exceedingly rare in the general population.

Meanwhile, about 95% of Americans don’t get enough fiber.

The nutrient we obsess about isn’t the one we’re missing.

The Question Every Plant-Based Eater Hears

I was at a breakfast meeting with a colleague a couple of years ago. I ordered oatmeal.

My colleague Ryan ordered sausage and eggs.

He looked at my bowl and asked the question that every vegan, vegetarian, or plant-based eater hears sooner or later:

“Where do you get your protein?”

I said: “There’s protein in oatmeal.”

He didn’t believe me.

And honestly, I understand why.

For decades, messaging from the meat and dairy industries, along with the new dietary guidance, has reinforced the idea that protein is lacking in our diets and that animal foods are the best (or only) way to do that.

At the same time, food companies have capitalized on the trend by adding protein to highly processed foods.

You can now buy:

• protein cereal

• protein cookies

• protein ice cream

• protein chips

But adding protein to ultra-processed food doesn’t automatically make it healthy.

The Nutrient Americans Are Actually Missing

If you believed the marketing, you’d think protein deficiency was an epidemic.

But the data tell a different story.

What’s missing is the very unsexy nutrient: fiber.

Fiber does much more than support digestion. It helps regulate blood sugar, lowers cholesterol, supports a healthy gut microbiome, and is linked to a lower risk of heart disease, diabetes, and certain cancers. When fiber is missing from the diet, we lose those protective effects which helps explain why low-fiber diets are linked to higher rates of chronic disease and overall mortality.

According to the Dietary Guidelines for Americans, about 95% of Americans fail to meet recommended fiber intake.

The average American consumes only about 15 grams per day, roughly half the recommended amount.

Fiber is so under-consumed that the U.S. Dietary Guidelines for Americans classify it as a “dietary component of public health concern.”

One major reason is the “Standard American Diet” (the apt acronym SAD).

Research analyzing national nutrition surveys shows that about 57% of calories consumed in the United States come from ultra-processed foods.

These foods are typically high in sodium, sugar, and saturated fat — and low in fiber.

Fiber is found exclusively in plant foods.

Plants Have Protein Too

Ryan’s question, “Where do you get your protein?” assumes that protein primarily comes from meat and dairy.

It doesn’t.

Plants contain protein. That’s where it starts.

In fact, the animals we eat get their protein from plants.

Another common misconception is that plant protein is inferior to animal protein.

The truth is that all plant foods contain protein and ALL 9 essential amino acids — the building blocks of protein. What varies is the proportion of those amino acids, which is why eating a variety of plant foods over the course of the day easily provides everything the body needs.

So you don’t need to eat meat or dairy (unless you want to) in order to get your protein. Plants high in protein like beans, legumes, nuts, and whole grains in a variety throughout the day can provide all you need.

Putting Breakfast to the Test

Let’s go back to breakfast with Ryan.

Ryan’s breakfast:

• 3 eggs

• 2 sausage patties

My breakfast:

• steel-cut oatmeal

• flax meal

• walnuts

• pumpkin seeds

• blueberries

• cinnamon

I eat oatmeal almost every morning. I genuinely love it and somehow never get tired of it. It’s less of a bowl of oatmeal and more of a bowl of toppings with just enough oatmeal to hold everything together.

I entered both meals into Cronometer. Here are the results of the

Breakfast Showdown:

Protein

Ryan: 29 g
Alicia: 25 g

Ryan technically wins the protein contest. By four grams.

Add ½ cup of soy milk to my breakfast and that difference disappears.

Fiber

Ryan: 0 g
Alicia: 19 g / 67% of the RDA

That’s roughly two-thirds of the daily recommended intake of fiber in one meal.

Ryan could add two slices of whole-grain toast and reach about 15% of the daily recommendation.

Saturated Fat

Ryan: 16 g / 79% of RDA
Alicia: 5 g / 26% of RDA

High intake of saturated fat is associated with increased cardiovascular risk, which makes it difficult to consume large amounts of animal-based protein without exceeding recommended limits.

Cholesterol

Ryan: 676 mg / 225% of RDA
Alicia: 0 mg

Ryan’s breakfast had more than double the amount of recommended cholesterol limit. Plant foods do not contain cholesterol.

Sodium

Ryan: 1,735 mg / 75% of RDA
Alicia: 329 mg / 14% of RDA

Sodium is essential, but excess intake is associated with hypertension and cardiovascular disease.

Vitamin B12

Ryan: ~4 mcg / 157% of RDA
Alicia: 0 mcg

Ryan’s breakfast is the clear winner here. Vitamin B12 is essential for nerve function and red blood cell production, and deficiency can have serious health consequences.

B12 is naturally found in animal foods, so people who don’t consume them need to get it from fortified foods or a supplement.

This is sometimes used as an argument against plant-based diets, but it’s not a flaw. Vitamin B12 is produced by microorganisms, and in the past humans likely obtained it from plants and untreated water. Today, modern sanitation and farming practices remove those sources, which is why supplementation is recommended.

Like any way of eating, a plant-based diet requires some intentionality.

Vitamin D

Ryan: 185 IU / 23% of RDA
Alicia: 0 IU

Ryan’s breakfast provides some vitamin D, which is important for bone health and immune function.

While vitamin D is found in some animal foods, the body can also produce it through sun exposure. In practice, many people don’t get enough from sunlight alone, so vitamin D often requires supplements.

Antioxidants

Ryan: <1
Alicia: 79

(source: The Antioxidant Food Table, Carlsen, et. al., 2010 measured in antioxidant content in mmol/100 g)

Antioxidants help protect the body from oxidative stress, a process that contributes to aging and many chronic diseases including heart disease, cancer, and neurodegenerative conditions.

Antioxidants are found primarily in plant foods — fruits, vegetables, whole grains, nuts, seeds, herbs, and spices.

Cinnamon provides a majority of the antioxidants in my breakfast, but even if we remove the cinnamon, the oatmeal, blueberries, walnuts, flax, and pumpkin seeds together still provide more than four times the antioxidant content of Ryan’s breakfast.

Oats Do Something Else Interesting

Oats contain a special type of soluble fiber called beta-glucan.

Research published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition shows that about 3 grams of beta-glucan per day can reduce LDL (“bad”) cholesterol by roughly 5–10%.

That’s why oats carry an FDA-approved heart health claim.

The Bigger Picture

Ryan’s breakfast had four more grams of protein than mine.

But it also had:

• zero fiber

• far fewer antioxidants

• significantly more saturated fat

• far more sodium and cholesterol

This is the problem with focusing on a single nutrient.

Nutrition doesn’t work that way.

Food is a complex system, and isolating one nutrient can distract us from the bigger picture.

Hopefully Ryan evened things out at lunch with a big salad with whole grains, beans, nuts, and a low sodium dressing to get some fiber, vitamins, and antioxidants back in the mix. Turns out, you can get plenty of protein without the extra saturated fat.

A Note on Diet Labels

I believe that it’s not about choosing a label or adhering to a strict diet. It’s about choosing foods that actually nourish you.

There are many different ways to eat including vegan, vegetarian, omnivore, whole-food plant-based. And this isn’t a criticism of any of them.

As I mentioned in last week’s article on the difference between vegan and whole-food plant-based diets, what matters most from a health perspective is not just what you don’t eat, but what you do eat.

It’s perfectly healthy to exclude animal products if you’re eating nutrient-dense, whole plant foods. That requires some intentionality including getting enough protein and key nutrients like vitamin B12.

The same is true with other diets.

Simply including animal foods doesn’t automatically create a healthy diet. It still requires intention to get enough fiber, vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants — nutrients that many Americans fall short on.

There are many “healthy” diets.

What matters most is the overall pattern: whole, nutrient-dense foods that support your health.

The Bottom Line

I’m not suggesting that you obsessively calculate the nutrition content of every meal. Just be aware of the bigger picture and try to incorporate more fiber-rich foods and plant proteins.

Protein deficiency is not the epidemic people think it is.

Fiber deficiency is.

And when you focus on eating more whole plant foods, something interesting happens:

You naturally get

• protein

• fiber

• antioxidants

• vitamins

• minerals

All at the same time.

Alcohol and Nutrition

When I stopped drinking alcohol, food seemed to taste better. I thought it might have been my imagination, but it turns out — it’s a thing.

Alcohol can dull both taste and smell, and when those senses sharpen again, real food suddenly becomes much more satisfying. Fruit tastes sweeter. Spices are more vibrant. Even something simple like oatmeal with blueberries, walnuts, and cinnamon feels like a treat instead of “health food.”

Highly processed foods rely on lots of salt, sugar, and fat to stimulate dulled taste buds. When your senses come back to life, those foods often lose some of their appeal and whole foods start to shine.

It’s a nice reminder that healthy habits tend to reinforce each other. A positive change in one area can make other changes easier, and more joyful.

As I said in last week’s post, there are a finite number of meals you’ll have in your lifetime — and they should all be fabulous. Choose foods that nourish you, and you might even extend that number.

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