Sober curious? Things I wish I'd known before quitting alcohol

Mary Cate Smith says you don't owe anyone explanation as to why you don't drink alcohol

In my late teens, I dated a lovely little blue-haired boy who came to visit me for the weekend in Dean’s Hall, my college accommodation. I served him a miserly meal of dry pasta with value-pack ham. No sauce, no vegetables, not even a whiff of grated cheese. Why? I wanted to save my money for a naggin of Smirnoff vodka.

That was just my pre-drink drink. Binge drinking was completely normalized then, in the late 90s early 2000s. Going to the cinema? Lash a load of Buckfast in a plastic bag. Headed to a festival? Nab a slab of Dutch Gold and a 10-pack of Tayto. Sitting in a field? Sling a flagon of Strongbow into your Sporthouse schoolbag for fear of becoming a teenage golem.

It’s been over five years since I’ve had a drink. 

“You must feel so healthy,” is a phrase I am accustomed to hearing. No. I feel like a middle-aged woman who pants walking up the stairs and audibly groans when I bend over. But putting my drinking days behind me was the best decision I’ve ever made. However, there are some things I wish I’d known before quitting alcohol forever.

You don’t owe anyone an explanation

If you do happen to find yourself in a pub, club, or indeed any event with alcohol and everyone there is drinking, you absolutely do not, under any circumstance have to tell them your “why”. I’ve fabricated dozens of excuses in the vain hope that I won’t be pressured into, “Ah go, on, have one”. 

I’ve been on antibiotics, I’ve been abstaining for dietary reasons, I’ve mentioned that it affects my mental health, I’ve told people I’m allergic, I’ve blamed work in the morning, having the car, stomach issues, and allergies. I know people (plural) who have died from alcoholism (sadly, very true) which surprisingly doesn’t deter many potential drinking buddies from trying to twist my arm.

I know people (plural) who have died from alcoholism (sadly, very true) which surprisingly doesn’t deter many potential drinking buddies from trying to twist my arm.

In the past, I didn’t go to events because of the intense scrutiny I’d face over not drinking. I now realise that not drinking doesn’t make me less interesting or fun to be around. It’s simply a matter of personal choice and no matter how clipped it may sound to say, “Because I just don’t” to someone who inquires about your abstinence, it is the most honest answer you can use.

Quitting alcohol forces you to confront your relationships

In Ireland, it is perfectly acceptable to drink at a celebration. The same applies for a commiseration. Weddings, funerals, christenings, festivals, birthdays, retirement dos, breakups, job offers, cheeky-pint Fridays, wine not Saturdays, ease-the-pain-of-hangover-from-hell-Sundays. I’m not saying you have to reinvent yourself, but it’s interesting just to sit with the emotions that you once numbed or heightened. 

Mary Cate Smith: Not drinking doesn’t make me less interesting or fun to be around.

Instead of putting your feelings aside, left to deal with the next day, you are forced to process that emotion, be it pain, grief, elation — and to carry on regardless. I learned that there were ways to cope with anxiety that didn’t require a glass of wine with dinner.

You don’t have to hit rock bottom to give up drinking

If you’re sober curious, you may want to consult literature around the area. A lot of this is written by people in recovery and focused around 12-step programmes. Russell Brand used to joke that his addiction was “straight out of a government pamphlet”. 

One of his first experiences getting drunk was to take his top off in the school canteen and parade about wearing a sheepskin. This, he thought, was all he needed to change the world. He is now a vegan.

For me, giving up drinking reinforced my connection with myself, gave me more of a purpose in life, a sense of awareness of a spiritual connection. I still compare myself to others, I still sometimes view my worth in measurable, capitalist terms of productivity but I also spend more time tuning in to how I feel – good, bad, or indifferent.

What’s funny in your 20s is not cute in your 30s

In my early college days at University College Cork, it was commonplace to save up for a night out by doing clinical trials. Sampling gruel masquerading as food, faking a cough, and having someone in a white coat monitor your sleeping patterns were all deemed appropriate ways to pay for vodka.

In the past, I didn’t go to events because of the intense scrutiny I’d face over not drinking.

If you’ve ever been the sober one on a night out, you might recognise the phenomenon of “the drunk person’s joke”. It may involve singing ‘I’m Horny’ on repeat, pastiching Riverdance, or performing an entire rap song from start to finish. None of these things are great when you’re out with the board of management or a potential client.

You need a support system

Being sober makes you an outlier in Irish society. You will often be the only one in the room, on the trip, or at the party who isn’t drinking. Being surrounded by people who get that is half the battle. 

Whether it’s sticking with friends who are supportive, seeing a therapist, going to AA meetings or chatting to other people in the same boat, it’s really helpful to know that if you are going somewhere with alcohol, you won’t be hassled to have one. 

There are plenty of people who glow after a drink or two. They don’t get hangovers, they don’t feel sick the next day, and they don’t think everyone wants to hear their Tupac Shakur rendition.

However, if you are 100% that bitch, you owe it to yourself to do what’s right for you. And maybe, (don’t @ me) it wasn’t what you were looking for in the first place.