Why I Stopped Drinking Alcohol

“Essentially the alcohol culture promotes letting loose and having a good time, but I was restricting my capacity without alcohol to have fun, feel good and put my mind at ease, because 'loosening up' required a muscle in my brain that I didn't know how to work without alcohol.”

In the beginning, after I decided to call it quits for the first time, I dreaded having to explain to my friends that I didn’t want to drink—or asking the bartender for yet another diet coke. Now, it’s a conversation starter. I even enjoy asking bartenders to test their skills with their favorite mocktail.

To be clear, I have no problem with people drinking alcohol. But I do have my reservations about heavy intoxication and belligerent behavior (I was a bouncer for a couple of years back in college—comes with the territory). Sure, my decision is partly health-related (blunts hormone levels, increases fat storage, etc.), but it cuts deeper than that.

Also, when I refer to the “alcohol culture,” I’m not talking about a glass of wine at dinner or a cocktail with a friend. This is more about how alcohol was introduced to me as a pre-requisite for having a good time.

A Party Drug, Not a Craft

When I was younger, there wasn’t much difference between a great night out and a blackout. I was programmed to believe that alcohol was the key to a good time. And that’s what separates the culture I’m addressing here from the craftsmanship of a great cocktail or a good bourbon.

I operated through the lens of alcohol as a party drug from day one of my adult social life. So the real question became: How could I possibly develop in social settings and put my mind at ease—without alcohol?

Discernment vs. Age

Many people think changing habits around alcohol is just a sign of getting older. I’d argue it’s actually about gaining discernment in what truly makes us happy.

Some people don’t even notice that as their alcohol tolerance drops, so does their ability to function socially. For me, I haven’t changed the types of social settings I go to. I’m still at the barbecue. I’m still on the dance floor. But many people drink hoping it’ll help them “get into it.” And if it doesn’t? Regret, a bigger credit card bill, and a painful hangover.

What About Just Getting Tipsy?

The common rebuttal is: “But what about being tipsy? It helps me loosen up and have more fun.”

But if all it takes is lowered inhibition, that means you’re already capable of engaging like that—you just need a dopamine trigger. We all experience stress, worry, tension, and anxiety. But imagine learning how to manage those things without entering a chemically altered state.

I get wanting a drink to take the edge off, but wouldn’t it be better to understand why you need it? If you could root out what’s keeping you from mentally freeing yourself, you wouldn’t have to wait for Friday night. You could loosen up any time. I had to realize that “loosening up” was a muscle in my brain I never learned to flex—because alcohol was doing it for me.

A Dependency You Don’t Always Notice

If you drink caffeine every day, you feel tired without it. Alcohol works the same way, just socially. Over time, if every outing includes drinking, your brain associates alcohol with fun—and its absence with discomfort.

Fortunately, I wasn’t a regular drinker in my younger years because of fitness competitions. I also worked as a bouncer and saw firsthand what people risk for a few hours of chemically induced freedom: marriages, reputations, jobs, even safety.

Maybe you think this doesn’t apply to you. That’s great. But the National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence reports that 1 in 12 adults suffers from alcohol abuse or dependency. That’s five people in a frat of 60. Ten in a bar of 120. And dependency can range from extreme addiction to simply needing alcohol to socialize or sleep.

It never made me resent alcohol itself—but I did begin to resent the state of being dependent or out of control. Unlike many addictive drugs, alcohol withdrawal can actually be lethal.

The One Beer Rule

Eventually, I began practicing what I called the “one beer rule.” I'd order one drink—then hold onto the bottle or can all night. That small act reduced the social pressure. Fewer awkward “Want another?” questions from bartenders or friends. Fewer raised eyebrows at the table.

Cancun Was My Test

Then came a turning point. I got hit with a brutal hangover and recurring tension headaches—right as I was prepping for a powerlifting meet and cutting water. Hydration was crucial, and alcohol had to go.

Shortly after, I went to Cancun for a close friend’s bachelor party. An all-you-can-drink resort for three days—what should’ve been my biggest challenge.

But it wasn’t.

The occasion itself allowed me to let go and have fun. And because I was comfortable with the group, I didn’t need anything extra to enjoy myself. That was powerful proof: I could get there on my own.

The Principle That Stuck

So yes, at first the headaches forced the issue. But what really made the change stick was the principle:

I don’t need alcohol to have fun.My friends don’t need me to be drunk to enjoy my company.I’m not doing this just because everyone else is.And let’s be honest—it gets kind of expensive.

So, What About My Social Life?

Most people assume I must go out less now. But truthfully, it’s the opposite. I go out more. No hangovers. No guilt. No $80 bar tabs.

Whether it’s fitness, self-discovery, or avoiding becoming a statistic—if you’ve ever thought about calling it quits with alcohol, take the plunge. Learn more about what truly makes you happy. Don’t wait for happy hour to address what’s going on in your head.