My Journey to Embracing ‘Dry January’ in Recovery: A Transformative Experience

If you’ve been active on social media in the last five years, there’s a high chance you’ve encountered the “sober curious movement.” On TikTok alone, the hashtag boasts hundreds of millions of views; on Instagram, nearly 800,000 videos feature the same label. 

As someone recovering from alcoholism, I’m somewhat embarrassed to confess that — until recently — I found the excitement surrounding the “sober curious movement” slightly irritating. My objection wasn’t with the idea itself — which promotes minimal or no alcohol consumption as a lifestyle choice and has been primarily embraced by Gen Z and millennials — but the trendiness of the term bothered me. It joined a plethora of similar expressions that have surged in popularity over the past decade: “Dry January,” “Sober October,” “soft sober” and “sober adjacent.” 

At the heart of these ideas lies a fundamentally positive notion: reassessing one’s connection with alcohol. Studies indicate that even small to moderate amounts of alcohol can lead to adverse health effects. As a society, we’ve normalized a great deal more than moderate alcohol consumption. It’s no coincidence that, in selecting months to pursue sobriety, individuals have opted for those surrounding the winter holidays: October and January. The Distilled Spirits Council of the United States states that a quarter of the $49 billion-a-year distilled spirits industry’s profits are derived from the period between Thanksgiving and the New Year.

So, what could potentially be my issue with this objectively positive, healthy occurrence? I might not have articulated it openly, but the reason these relatively new buzzwords gnawed at me is that they conveyed the impression that quitting drinking was, at best, simple, casual, and even enjoyable. At worst, it seemed performative, and when the predictable merger of influencers and sponsored mocktail marketing deals emerged, it felt too Goop-y for my inclinations. 

For me, striving for sobriety was as far from simple, casual, or enjoyable as one could imagine. 

I achieved sobriety on Jan. 24, 2008 — not because of a desperate attempt at Dry January, but because I was left with no alternative. The night before, I had been taken to the emergency room with a potentially lethal blood alcohol level, and within less than 24 hours, I was en route to the hospital’s psychiatric unit. There, a physician explained that I likely survived such a high BAC because — despite being only 23 years of age — I had a long-standing history of chronic alcohol consumption that enabled my body to acclimatize to what was essentially daily poisoning. 

Sobriety was a lengthy, challenging journey — one that required a near-death experience, a stay in the psychiatric ward, and a month in an inpatient treatment facility — all just to keep me away from alcohol for a month. Following that, there were 12-step groups, counseling, and the strenuous work of discovering who I was and how to exist as a sober individual. 

Through my limited viewpoint, I inadvertently categorized individuals into two distinct groups: The first was composed of people like me, who couldn’t manage their alcohol consumption and for whom maintaining sobriety necessitated discussions about sobriety and recovery, while the second consisted of “normal people,” who could drink alcohol whenever and however they wished, and it generally turned out just fine. 

Over the 16-plus years that ensued, my views on substance use, alcohol use disorder, and recovery transformed. They became more expansive, inclusive, and adaptable. Those two separate categories evolved into a Venn diagram: two significantly overlapping circles. I ceased viewing alcohol addiction as something one either possessed or didn’t possess and began recognizing it as one end of a very broad continuum. It was the side to which I belonged, certainly, but millions of individuals inhabited every other position along that spectrum, stretching all the way to the opposite end: those who have never consumed a drink. 

It wasn’t a revolutionary way to contemplate substance use, yet it was a perspective I felt was not discussed as frequently as I would have liked. Thus, I commenced writing about it, beginning with an advice column — initially for a recovery website and later for Paste Magazine. A few months ago, I revived the column as a Substack newsletter. I alternate between addressing inquiries about substance use and addiction and composing brief essays on recovery-related subjects. 

The themes of the newsletter can be summarized as follows: There’s no singular correct way to achieve sobriety, there are numerous pathways to recovery, it is personal and non-linear, and we each must find our way — ideally with a supportive community surrounding us. An inclusive recovery landscape is crucial because individuals aren’t receiving essential assistance. 

In the United States, fatalities linked to excessive alcohol consumption rose 29% in just five years. Physicians indicate that younger individuals, in particular, are witnessing a significant surge in alcohol-related liver disease. What could be more necessary than a broad, non-prescriptive movement advocating for the advantages of reducing or eliminating alcohol intake?

I was a month or so into creating the newsletter when someone inquired about my thoughts on “the whole sober curious thing.” I was midway through a Pavlovian eye roll when I recognized the absurdity of my reaction. The sober curious movement was generally addressing a different audience than I was: I was writing for individuals who felt they were struggling with alcohol; the sober curious seemed to concentrate on those who weren’t compulsively using alcohol but sought lifestyle or health adjustments. Yet, we were conveying the same message. Give it a try. Discover what works for you. Share your feelings with others. Don’t criticize yourself if you make a mistake; simply assess how you arrived there and try again if you choose to.

After viewing several “sober curious” videos, I came to realize I had made yet another error in judgment. While numerous individuals appeared to transition to the alcohol-free lifestyle quite effortlessly, others shared the challenges they encountered — many of which illustrated the kinds of struggles I was accustomed to discussing with people: cravings, relapse, and social withdrawal. The sober curious community was far more inclusive than I initially perceived.

Regarding the trendiness of the terminology? I now perceive it as a blessing, particularly during the holiday season. The fact that it is a widely recognized term has encouraged people to be mindful about their alcohol consumption. Individuals entering holiday gatherings and other occasions of heavy drinking now have a convenient expression ready to use should family and friends begin questioning why someone isn’t more actively participating in the holiday festivities. 

In certain circles, there has always existed an unspoken presumption that if you can drink (i.e., if you are not an alcoholic, pregnant, or otherwise have a condition that prevents you from doing so), you will drink. I wish individuals didn’t feel the necessity to provide a reason for abstaining from alcohol, but until that changes, I am exceedingly thankful that the sober curious movement — and the countless TikToks surrounding it — are present.