Editor’s note: This article is part of a four-part series on the author’s relationship with alcohol, with all three articles scheduled for release in “Dry January” 2023. If you haven’t yet, consider reading the first post in this series.

It was late 2019 the first time it occurred to me that I might want to stop drinking. I was in Hawaii with three of my girlfriends, and we were planning to write and share our intentions for the new year on our trip. I remember sitting down to have a hard think about the last time I’d gone more than a few days without drinking. I was considering whether I would try “dry January” for the first time in my life. I was 26, and I could not recall a stretch of more than 3-4 days in the last five years where I had not consumed alcohol.

I decided to try it. I looked at January as a challenge, as a chance to tell my parents I was “totally cool” without the substance. I was excited, but mostly because I hoped it would help me lose the few pounds that come with a holiday season well-celebrated. Surprise, surprise; I didn’t stay dry that whole January. To go from a life suffused with alcohol to quitting cold turkey is no easy feat, and I had none of the intrinsic motivation to make it possible.

Why even try to stop drinking alcohol? From my first post on drinking, you can see that my habits had started to affect my health and happiness. Part of me was just so damn tired of being on the treadmill of binge drink/calorie restriction/binge drink. But it wasn’t until I was hit with the trifecta of drinking deities - Andrew Huberman, Holly Whittaker, and Will Ahmed - that I started to form my own, genuine interest in cutting back.

Why stop drinking alcohol?

An important question requires guides, so allow me to introduce mine: Andrew Huberman is neuroscientist & professor of neurology at Stanford; his podcast on alcohol shook me to my core. Holly Whittaker is an ex-corporate entrepreneur and author; her book “Quit Like a Woman” resonated with my lived experience and put a name to the cultural influences around alcohol that I’d sensed for a decade. Will Ahmed is the founder and CEO of WHOOP; his podcast on alcohol used WHOOP data from hundreds of thousands of people all over the world to validate just how much damage alcohol is causing our bodies. Here’s what what the guides will tell you:

There are virtually zero positive health benefits to drinking

I am loath to share this, but it needs to be said: No amount of drinking is considered safe anymore. Scientists agree on this.

You may be thinking: “But I heard about this study on wine and antioxidants,” or “Blue Zones swear by a drink a day!” The bummer truth is that the amount of red wine you’d have to drink to see any benefit from its antioxidant potential is so vast that the negative effects significantly outweigh the benefit. And the Blue Zones website actually published an article that echoed: “Any level of alcohol is dangerous to your health for the simple reason that alcohol is alcohol.”

In fact, new research shows that chronic alcohol intake, as low as 1 drink per day or 7 per week, can disrupt the brain and significantly increase your overall risk of mortality. Even moderate drinkers should consider cutting back or trying to wean off their alcohol habits if they are at all interested in health and longevity. To keep things in perspective, the same can be said of driving your car or indulging in dessert. “No amount” is considered the safest amount, just like with alcohol. There are other reasons to drive (get somewhere) or have dessert (experience pleasure), and there may be some for alcohol. But let’s stop pretending that health is one of them.

Alcohol is terrible for individual health and happiness

We all know that alcohol is bad for us, but most of us don’t really know why. Let’s start with the fundamental science: Alcohol is a neurotoxin, akin to snake venom and tear gas, that wreaks havoc on our bodies and our minds. It’s also one of the most prevalent mental health disorders on the planet, according to the World Health Organization (WHO).

Alcohol:

Robs you of your focus & productivity. A study published in Nature Communications found that heavy drinking is associated with “brain atrophy, neuronal loss, and poorer white matter fiber integrity.” White matter is important stuff that contributes to your attention, memory, and decision-making and helps keep you from developing psychiatric disorders like depression or Alziemers. The negative associations show up after just 1-2 drinks and become stronger the more you consume.
Makes you anxious & depressed. According to a study published in the Journal of Anxiety Disorders, "alcohol is a central nervous system depressant, which can lead to feelings of anxiety and depression. Furthermore, alcohol disrupts the balance of chemicals in the brain, leading to long-term changes in mood and behavior." The less you drink, the more calm, confident, and vibrant you’ll feel.
Makes you less attractive. Alcohol dehydrates you and inflames your cells, including the ones in your skin. The toxins from alcohol break down your skin cells more quickly, causing you to look older and duller than you are. When you drink less, your skin looks healthier and more youthful.
Messes up your gut. Alcohol is chaos to the digestive tract. If you drink regularly, you’re likely signing up for acid reflux, diarrhea, gut flora imbalance, and leaky gut, to name a few. Less drinking means a flatter/firmer tummy, no gas or bloating, fewer emergency trips to the restroom and reduced chance of long-term GI issues like I’ve dealt with.
Kills your immune system. People who drink regularly are way more likely to get sick than those who don’t. I have experienced this acutely; the last three times I came down with a nasty cold, I was out drinking with friends the night before. Thanks, Comet Club!
Is a leading source of cancer. Alcohol is a known carcinogen and has been linked to an increased risk of several types of cancer, including cancer of the mouth, throat, esophagus, and liver. It’s also a known factor in breast cancer.
Can lead to lasting liver damage. The liver is responsible for filtering toxins out of our blood, and alcohol is a very toxic substance. Over time, exposure to too much alcohol can lead to inflammation and scarring of the liver, which can lead to liver failure. My “fun” grandma, who filled a tumbler with Franzia each morning, passed away recently from cirrhosis of the liver.

It’s hard to put it better than Holly Whittaker, author of “Quit Like a Woman,” when she says:

We read labels. We shun gluten, dairy, processed foods, and refined sugars. We buy organic. We use natural sunscreens and beauty products. We worry about fluoride in our water, smog in our air, hydrogenated oils in our food, and we debate whether plastic bottles are safe to drink from. We replace toxic cleaning products with Mrs. Meyer’s and homemade vinegar concoctions. We do yoga, we run, we SoulCycle and Fitbit, we go paleo and keto, we juice, we cleanse. We do coffee enemas and steam our yonis and drink clay and charcoal and shoot up vitamins and sit in infrared foil boxes and hire naturopaths and shamans and functional doctors and we take nootropics, and we stress about our telomeres (these are all real words). We are hypervigilant about everything we put into our body, everything we do to our body. And we are proud of this. We Instagram how proud we are of this and follow Goop and Well + Good and drop forty bucks on an exercise class because there are healing crystals in the floor. The global wellness economy is estimated to be worth four trillion dollars. Four trillion dollars. We are on an endless and expensive quest for wellness and vitality and youth. And we drink fucking rocket fuel.

Alcohol is worse for society than weed, mushrooms, or MDMA

Living and studying in Amsterdam during my junior year of college was transformational in so many ways, but one that I’m especially proud of is the way my global socio-political senses expanded. I remember sitting in my small Dutch Policy class, just twenty or so people, where we learned about the pragmatic and harm reductionist policies that are cornerstones of Dutch society. Surprisingly, it’s the first place I was offered even a hint at how bad alcohol is for not just the individual, but for societies as a whole.

All my life, I’d assumed consumption of alcohol was both “normal” and “natural.” Having grown up in a religious household, I’d seen mentions of wine dating back as far as the Old Testament. If Jesus drank wine, it couldn’t be too bad for you, right? In reality, humans have always been curious about altered states of consciousness. That in and of itself is not a problem, if used wisely.

However, we as a global society have adopted the blanket belief that alcohol is part of a normal healthy diet - not a drug - and even healthy in moderation. In reality, it’s one of the top 5 most destructive drugs to both self and society, only surmounted by crack, heroin and meth. By contrast, weed, psilocybin, and MDMA are all in the mid-range of this list.

I first saw this chart in that Dutch Policy class in Amsterdam. If you’ve ever wondered how or why the Netherlands has historically been much more lax on the legality of cannabis or mushrooms, it’s not because they love drugs. It’s because they know humans are naturally curious about altered states of consciousness, and are likely to do drugs whether they’re legal or not.

Legalizing and regulating the use of the low to medium-harm drugs allows the government to oversee production and distribution, which helps standardize products and ensure they’re as safe as possible. This is “harm reduction” in action. It also allows the government to tax the revenue generated by these businesses, rather than have these transactions take place under the table. This is “pragmatism” in action.

To stop drinking is to prove you can

Something else Whittaker said in her book struck a chord with me. It flashed a mirror on the girl I was back in 2019, staring down my first dry January through slitted eyes:

“The truth is that anyone who consumes alcohol and can’t live without it is to some degree hooked on it, regardless of whether it’s a glass a week or a bottle a night.”

The girl I was couldn’t picture a week without alcohol in it, much less a month. Three years later, I’m proudly participating in “dry January” for a third time, and not only does it feel welcome and effortless, it feels exciting and fun. It’s pushed me to seek out friends who are similarly curious about sobriety and spaces that don't require drinking, like breathwork, ecstatic dance, and a life coaching class. It’s challenged me to go out with friends, say no to a cocktail, and have fun anyway.

While I don't yet plan to give up drinking entirely, I’m proud to be building a muscle around conscious consumption and building a life that doesn’t revolve around alcohol in the first place. In my next post, I explore all the reasons it’s so hard to give this stuff up for good.

Up Next:

Why People Like Alcohol, Psychologically & Otherwise

Why It’s So Hard (For Me) to Quit Drinking

How I Actually Cut Back on Drinking (+ Tips To Get You There, Too)

Editor’s note: This article is part of a four-part series on the author’s relationship with alcohol, with all three articles scheduled for release in “Dry January” 2023.

In college, I was a part-time private investigator. Or, it felt like that sometimes. It was common for me to drink so much that I couldn’t remember how I got home, nor much of what I’d done the night before. Mornings were often about piecing clues together, gathering eyewitness evidence, and eventually revealing the evening’s events to myself. Often, the narrative was shaky, and there was much I hoped to forget even after it came to light.

The whole ordeal of my drinking was part funny, part cringe, part heart-breaking. I had a lot of fun in college; I loved getting dressed up, going out, and getting drunk with my friends at big frat parties where you danced the night away and never knew who you’d meet. Some of my drunken endeavors were indeed light-hearted and hilarious. Some were destructive, and came with real consequences.

At the time, it felt normal. Now, I’ll never know if my binge drinking habit was more a result of my excitement for a newly unbound college life, the pain I felt around my parents divorce at the time, or deep childhood feelings of worry and inadequacy. Likely, it was a mix of all three. I’d like to be able to say that “everyone was doing it,” and to some extent, they were. We were all drinking heavily. But I didn’t know anyone who felt as out of control as I did.

I’ve grappled with tough feelings about this time in my life for years and finally took some concrete steps to change my relationship with alcohol in the last two. This article is part one in a three-part series on my journey with alcohol. I found that investigating why people like alcohol in the first place, psychologically and bio-chemically, was a helpful place to start.

My story

Me, freshman year of college. I’m guessing this photo shouldn’t be on the internet.

I was in 8th grade the first time I had a sip of alcohol. I know because I wrote about the experience in my middle school diary. Thanks to maturing physically before most of my peers, I’d become popular with older kids in 7th grade, kicking off years of exposure to things I had no business being exposed to at that age. Of course, the high school kids interested in hanging out with 7th and 8th graders were not the straight-A students who played soccer and volunteered in their free time. These kids went to parties and liked to drink.

My first sip was just that; a sip. But it represented a quick slide into my first full drink just a few months later. I didn't even like the feeling that much, describing it as a state of nothingness, like being in a daze. But I quickly recognized the desire to feel it again, because it offered temporary escape from the emotions that accosted me at age 14. All I wanted was to be loved - by peers, by boys, by myself.

Thanks to my “popularity” among the older crowds, I quickly earned a reputation for being a party girl with parents and teachers at my high school. Occasionally, my friend Sara would tell me something her parents had heard about me through the grapevine, and my heart would sink. I grappled with the conflicting self knowledge that I was a good human, loving and kind. Godly, even. At the time, I read the Bible, journaled on its teachings, and prayed nightly.

Sure, I snuck out and went to parties and drank and kissed boys every once in a while, but it’s not like my life was in the gutter, I thought. I got straight A’s, participated in tons of extracurriculars, and had lots of friends across different groups. Externally, I was doing great. Internally, I was reaching for anything that would make me feel loved. On weekends, I sought it from the boys who offered. Those boys always seemed to have alcohol on them.

Why do people like alcohol?

My drinking habit started early and was undeniably problematic in college (more on that later), and yet, I had no trouble justifying it. My habits weren’t very different from those around me, and I could always name someone worse than I. Plus, there was so much that made sense about drinking for me. Here’s what science says about the reason people like to drink:

Psychologically rewarding effects of alcohol

It activates our rewards center

Alcohol has a powerful effect on our brain, particularly when it comes to how it makes us feel. When we drink alcohol, it activates the reward center of our brain which is responsible for feelings of positivity and even euphoria. This is the same part of the brain that’s activated by things like sugary desserts, words of affirmation, and money.

To this day, I still covet that first-drink feeling. For years, I’ve told people they’re lucky to see me at 1-2 drinks in (no more!), because that’s when I’m the “best version of myself.” I now find this statement problematic; why was I so quick to share that I didn’t love the sober version of myself? But in a lot of ways, what I’d claimed was true. After a few drinks, I’m lighter, quicker to laugh, slower to judge. I feel present and happy in the moment.

It calms our worry response

Alcohol can also help calm down our natural response to feeling threatened or in danger. It does so by interfering with the part of the brain that helps us recognize threats and decide how to react to them. When we're under the influence, we’re able to tell the difference between something that’s dangerous and something that isn't. This can make us more likely to approach potentially risky situations and less likely to avoid them. As a result, we may feel more comfortable socializing and interacting with others while drinking.

There’s certainly something to be said about the loosened inhibitions you can find at the bottom of a bottle of wine. As an anxious, type-A individual, alcohol magically wipes my worry slate clean and allows me to do things I wouldn't normally do, like stay out late or go to random party where I know few. Not every alcohol-fueled night turns into fun, but some do, and it’s enough to keep the whole endeavor exciting. That feeling of “I wonder what will happen tonight?” seems to add a wildish and youthful quality to life.

It’s a social lubricant

According to Robin Dunbar, Professor of Evolutionary Psychology at the University of Oxford, alcohol has long been linked to social bonding and community engagement. In fact, research has shown that people who regularly go to a local bar tend to have more close friends, feel happier with their lives, trust their community more, and are more involved with their community than those who don't have a regular watering hole. While it's important to note that this doesn't necessarily mean that alcohol causes these benefits, it does seem to be a contributing factor. Regardless, it seems that alcohol has played a significant role in bringing people together throughout history.

For me, drinking seems to be one of the easiest and most fool-proof ways to connect a bit more quickly or deeply with someone. In vino veritas, say the Greeks; “In wine, there’s truth.” Social connection has always been a driver in my life, and I love that a few drinks can help loosen the tongue and help those across the table dive into the deep end with me. It has also been the preferred pass time for former colleagues of mine and unavoidable if you wanted to be considered “one of the gang.”

It’s a whole-ass vibe

Pardon my gen Z speak (especially because I’m a millennial), but for real: a bottle of red wine in front of the Eiffel Tower, an Aperol spritz on your girls trip to Italy, that first perfect margarita when you touch down in Mexico, or a cold beer after a long hike - what do all of these have in common? We associate alcohol with the perfect moment. While we may not all have the same associations, we undoubtably have a few, thanks to what we’ve seen on TV and social media. For this reason, it can be hard to feel like certain moments are complete and worthy without alcohol.

The real downsides of drinking alcohol

For some, drinking is an unbridled joy. According to Dr. Andrew Huberman, there’s a small subset of people who perceive no negative effects from drinking, including hangovers and decreased mood. While these people are lucky to avoid the painful conscious effects of consumption, they are more likely to become alcoholics and still won't avoid the internal damage and long-term consequences, of which there are many.

Lucky for me (?), I am not the best version of myself after 2-3 drinks. I go quiet, turn red, get sleepy, and wake up with headaches and fatigue. Here are all the physical reasons I decided to re-evaluate my relationship with drinking:

Blacking out: If you’ve never blacked out before, it happens when you drink so much that the memory-making part of your brain is temporarily blocked from filing short-term memories into long-term folders. My black outs have netted me horror stories I shudder to think about.
Poor decisions: As you can imagine, loss of inhibition to the darkest degree does not bode well for strong-decision making. And those decisions can affect how others perceive you. In high school, I didn't make cheer captain because I was known to frequent parties. In college, my drinking habits earned me a temporary suspension from my sorority.
Hanxiety: If you’ve ever struggled with anxiety, drinking is very likely to trigger it. About 22% of all drinkers will experience anxiety alongside their hangovers, which closely mirrors the 19% of US adults that have an anxiety disorder. For me, the intensity is modulated by how much I drink. The more I drink, the more likely it is that my actions and biophysics are conspiring to make me feel like a terrible person.
Weight gain: I put on 15 pounds in college, exclusively from binge drinking (incl. binge eating after binge drinking). For someone with existing self-esteem issues, 15 extra pounds on my relatively small frame sent my disordered eating on a downward spiral. I experimented with purging on and off throughout college. Paradoxically, it was never the alcohol that made me want to puke; it was the self-loathing that came with eating 2,000 calories worth of food after a night out. Here’s how I used mindfulness to (finally) successfully lose weight.
Shit sleep: Only in 2022 did I make the connection between alcohol consumption, poor sleep, and poor well-being. It was all thanks to my WHOOP, a hi-res fitness tracker that gives you a sleep score every night. Without fail, alcohol is the single biggest detractor to a good night’s sleep, and it’s true for all humans globally. The only thing that’s ever caused similar poor scores for me was COVID, and that was just one night. One weekend bachelorette party can cause the equivalent of a body trying to fight off a nasty COVID infection. Learn more about how I optimized my sleep with WHOOP data.
Stomach problems: It’s obvious that alcohol messes up your gut, thanks to all the vomiting and bowel-related chaos that comes with a big night out. Drinking causes gut inflammation, which leads to leaky gut, gastritis, acid reflux, and more. But it never even occurred to me that drinking could be causing lasting damage to my gut. After being diagnosed with both h. Pylori and SIBO in 2022, I’m confident that my drinking habits in my early 20’s contributed to years of dealing with daily stomach pain.

So, again, why do we do this to ourselves? Alcohol is a deeply social drug, something that’s part of social gatherings from the first party you attend, whether in high school or college. The accessibility, paired with its chemically addicting nature, makes the substance both alluring and “sticky,” something that can be hard to get away from or stop partaking in. However, the negative effects tend to dramatically outweigh the positive for those who over-imbibe. And new research suggests that there are subtle external and major internal consequences for even moderate drinkers. We’ll get into that in my next post. Until then, I’ll leave you with this:

Why do you like to drink? And can you brainstorm a handful of other activities or lifestyle changes that might net you similar outcomes? No need to adjust any habits today. It’s just a thought experiment. But one worth trying, for your future health and self. Feel free to leave a comment with your reflections below.

Up Next:

Why It’s So Hard (For Me) to Quit Drinking

What Finally Convinced Me I Needed to Cut Back on Drinking

How I Actually Cut Back on Drinking (+ Tips To Get You There, Too)