I know what it’s like to feel stuck.
I never thought it would be possible lose my desire to drink. I really liked drinking. It was a recipe for a good time. An easy way to feel good. It was fun. Sophisticated. Pleasurable. I loved everything about it (except the next morning, lying in bed, feeling terrible, and wondering why I kept making the same mistakes).
Pouring a drink was my go-to solution to relax and quiet the nagging critic in my head.
I just needed a break. A little treat. What’s wrong with that? Sure, occasionally one glass of wine to “take the edge off” turned into three (or four), scouring the fridge and passing out on the couch, but no one’s perfect.
I certainly didn’t need to drink when I went out, but a buzz was so good at dissolving all those pesky insecurities that whispered in my ear. Otherwise, I was stuck in my head, worrying what people thought, scanning the room to see if I measured up. Having a couple of drinks just happened to be the fastest route to have fun and loosen up.
Of course, I hated the hangovers. Waking up the next day and wondering, was I too loud last night? Did I get too drunk? All the embarrassment and regrets. Relentlessly beating myself up. But you know what I hated even more? Not knowing why I couldn’t be more disciplined and always stick with my two-drink limit.
The truth was, I had a love-hate relationship with drinking. I spent years trying to moderate, drinking like I didn’t care, and quitting more times than I can count. I was unhappy when I drank too much and unhappy when I told myself I had to stop. With each failed attempt, I felt worse. I was stuck, and I started to doubt I would ever figure this out.
You don’t need to be stuck. You can stop worrying about why you sometimes drink too much and say goodbye to the stressed out, overly-critical version of yourself.
I know exactly what you’re going through and how painful it can be to feel like there isn’t a solution. But I promise you there is. I figured out the answer, and it has very little to do with alcohol. No labels, no life-long treatment, no admitting to being powerless or telling people you have a disease.
Once I understood what was behind my drinking, it all made perfect sense. All those years, I convinced myself my brain was missing an off-switch (it wasn’t). Turns out that your brain isn’t the problem; it’s the answer. If you want to change your drinking, you first have to radically change your thinking.
Turns out that your brain isn’t the problem; it’s the answer. If you want to change your drinking, you first have to radically change your thinking.
The best part? You can stop beating yourself up and get on with your life. All that time you waste dealing with the physical and emotional hangovers from drinking too much can be yours again. Imagine what you could do with it. Imagine what you could create.
You don’t need a glass in your hand to feel relaxed, confident, attractive, outgoing, and happy. The best version of yourself isn’t waiting at the bottom of a glass. She’s been there all along; you just need a different way to find her.
Learn more about me.
Here are some more details about who I am for those of you who are curious. I received my Master Coach certification from The Life Coach School, the best boutique coaching school in the country, and graduated with honors from Wellesley College. Before switching specializations, I spent over a decade coaching more than 1,500 human rights activists on how to confidently tell their stories.
You can catch me every Tuesday on the Take A Break podcast where I share the tools I use with my coaching clients or read my book, Why Can’t I Drink Like Everyone Else: A Step-By-Step Guide to Understanding Why You Drink and How to Take a Break.
My coaching practice is shaped by the stories—past and present—that inform women’s lives. For too long, I was an outspoken advocate of women’s voices, ideas, and contributions, only to turn around and judge my own self-worth based on what I saw in the mirror and the achievements that graced my resume. Teaching women how to let go of the narrative of “not being good enough” so that they can create a future they never dreamed possible is the best job in the world.