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MENTAL HEALTH
I Want/Don’t Want to Drink
Our sobering reality is making it hard to be “good”
Author’s note: The following piece originally appeared in my Substack, Sherry Raw.
I’ve not had an alcoholic drink for two weeks now, perhaps longer as the days blend into one another and I often think it’s Thursday when it’s Monday. That type of thing. Especially since Brat Summer morphed into Felon Fall.
My abstinence has nothing to do with the recent proclamation by the Surgeon General that alcohol causes cancer as I was already aware. Nor, did I hop on the Dry January train.
Instead, I’ve come to grips with the fact that drinking daily is not a good look for a woman in my stage of life who doesn’t want to die.
For anyone who struggles with lifelong anxiety and other conditions like OCD, you know how grindingly difficult it is to kick one of your closest buddies to the curb and say “No mas.” To put a cap on that liquid crutch we rely on to settle us down in a world that’s mad as fuck.
As a world-class drinker my entire life, a propensity inherited from my parents and other family members, I admit to being “sober curious.” To want to know what it feels like to wake up early without a low-grade hangover and the sense that “Fuck me, I did…
