I am participating in the month of Dry January for my mental and physical health

Six years ago, I woke up with a severe headache. My mouth felt like sandpaper. My eyes too. I was hungover.

My family and I went to a lot of parties over the holiday season – I’m not complaining – but around New Year’s Eve, I wanted to reset.

So I decided to stop drinking in January.

At the time, I didn’t know Dry January was one thing. No one in my social circle or family had ever talked about it. Quitting alcohol for a month was just something I wanted to try for myself. The holidays were over, the kids were going back to school and it was time to get back to work.

The first five days without alcohol went well. When I instinctively had a glass of wine while making dinner, I poured flavored water into the glass. It wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t that bad. And why didn’t I always drink water from a fancy wine glass?

Then Saturday evening came. I went to a bar/restaurant to meet friends. When I politely declined a drink, the joyous reunion felt more like an interrogation.

“Are you pregnant?”

“Are you sick?”

“Are you pregnant…and sick?”

I was shocked by the intensity of the reactions. People were legitimately worried about me. I quickly realized that my reasoning – a post-holiday reset – wasn’t enough for them.

For everyone else, it was simple: if I wasn’t drinking, there was something wrong with me. Did I have a drinking problem? What was that Really event? And the funny thing was, people were still offering me drinks all the time – which, again, I politely declined – and taking personally the fact that I wouldn’t drink them.

I left the bar early thinking this was going to be harder than I thought. Maybe everyone was right. If I don’t have a drinking problem and everything is fine with me, why am I doing this?

Then I remembered: I was doing this for me. I wasn’t doing it for anyone else. I set a goal for myself and wanted to achieve it myself.

Melissa and her children

With my goal in mind, the second week was easier than the first. It felt good to wake up with a clear mind and more energy. When Saturday came, I thought about staying home and not socializing after all the accusations from the previous weekend. Maybe I should avoid everyone for the whole month.

But I was too afraid of missing out (FOMO). I live in Michigan surrounded by family and friends and there is always something fun happening. So I went out, ordered some soda water, and started learning how to socialize when everyone else was drinking.

I still felt uncomfortable sometimes and people still gave me a hard time. Some comments were more hurtful than others. That I wasn’t fun or that no one wanted to be around me if I didn’t drink. I reminded them that I am still the same person. I’m always fun. But what people thought about me being sober for a little while mattered less and less as the month went on.

If the first weekend was an 8 out of 10 on the difficult scale, the third weekend was a 2. I was proud of myself. And I felt stronger. I exercise almost every day of the week, but I’ve found that I’m more ambitious – I’m more dedicated to it – when I’m not drinking.

At the end of the month, I thought I would look forward to going out for a drink or a glass of wine. But at that point it didn’t really matter to me anymore. I felt good knowing that if I wanted to have a dry January, I could. And everything would be fine.

Of course, since drinking is a part of my social life, it can be difficult to not drink at all for an entire month. Some years, January seems to last six months (thanks Covid!)

But I do it every year because I love the challenge and I love how I feel when I can achieve a goal I set for myself. And I know it’s good for my mental health and my body to take a break every once in a while.

I now like to tell people that I don’t drink in January (sometimes sober in September too) because I think it’s important to eliminate the stigma.

I think a lot of women go to social places with friends or on vacation without drinking and people are really worried. They are upset. They’re disappointed you’re not drinking. As if you were no longer the same person. Like, boo, Melissa, you’re no fun. And that hurts.

With more and more people embracing Dry January these days, I hope there will always be more positivity and more opportunities to talk about it without judgment or jumping to conclusions (still not pregnant men !).

I know it can be hard not to drink when everyone around you is pushing you to do so. But if you want to do Dry January or refuse a drink for any reason, at any time, you can. You are always fun Melissa. It doesn’t matter what my friends say.

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