Nobody warns you about the friendship part.

When you quit drinking, everyone talks about the hard stuff: The cravings, the social pressure, the wine aisle at Target that suddenly feels like a threat. But nobody sits you down and says, “Hey, your friendships are probably going to get really weird.”

Because…there’s a good chance they will.

If you’re anything like me, you haven’t openly discussed your true feelings and doubts about your drinking with anyone, not even your partner or best friend. The same goes for your friends. They haven’t shared their doubts with you. There’s a lot unsaid when it comes to our relationships with alcohol, and when you’re the one to flip the script and quit drinking, it might bring up a lot of emotions in those close to you.

In the early days, being the sober friend feels a lot like being a foreign exchange student in your own life. You speak the language, you know the customs, you’ve sat at this table a hundred times, but suddenly, you’re watching it all from a bit of a distance. Suddenly, you feel on the outside of something you’ve been inside for so long.

Here’s what I wish someone had told me: Most of it is in your head. And some of it probably isn’t.

Let’s start with the part that’s in your head…

In early sobriety, you are hyper-aware of everything. Every glance feels loaded (pun-intended), and every invitation feels like a test. You assume everyone is thinking about the fact that you’re not drinking, when in reality, most people are thinking about themselves. (As people do.) Your brain is scanning for threats because it’s still adjusting to the fact that you’ve removed the thing you used to cope with social situations for the last 10 or 15 or 20 years. Everything feels heightened because you’ve lost your social armor, and now you’re standing in the middle of the party in your underwear. Metaphorically. (Hopefully.)

But then there’s the part that isn’t in your head…

Some friends will get quiet because you’re decision to quit drinking forces them to look at their drinking. It might not feel dramatic, more like a slow fade. The group text gets quiet. The invitations dry up. Not all of them, but enough that you notice. It stings.

I remember a friend who stopped inviting me to things after I quit drinking. For a while, I told myself she was just busy. Life, kids, the usual. But then I’d see the photos on Instagram. The girls’ night I didn’t know about. The birthday trip I wasn’t invited to. And the truth settled in slowly: she didn’t know what to do with a sober me.

That hurts.

Here’s the thing about being the sober friend that can really mess with you: You begin to wonder if the friendship was ever about you at all, or if it was about the drinking. When you remove the alcohol, you find out. Sometimes the answer is beautiful, and sometimes it’s devastating.

The cold hard truth is that some friendships don’t survive sobriety.

In early sobriety, I grieved those friendships. It felt like a loss, and like something had been taken from me. And those friendships left holes in my life.

But here’s what nobody tells you, and it took me years to understand: Sobriety didn’t take friendships from me. It left room for deeper, more genuine connections. The friendships that faded were built on a shared activity, not a shared connection. Alcohol was the bridge, and without it, there was no way across. That’s not your fault. And it’s not really theirs, either. It’s just what happens when you stop doing the one thing that held you together.

The grief is real. Honor it.

And then, the friendships that remain mean even more.

I have friendships now that are deeper, more honest and more real than anything I had when I was drinking. And I don’t say that to be cute or to wrap this up in a tidy bow. I say it because it’s true, and because more than 6 years into sobriety, the quality of my friendships is one of the things I’m most grateful for.

The friends who stayed, stayed for me - not for the version of me with a glass in her hand. Not for the fun, easy, wine-drinking me. For me. The real one. The one who’s sometimes anxious and overthinks everything and goes to bed at 9:30 on a Friday. They stayed for her, and she is so much better company.

And then there are the new friendships - the friends I never would have found if I hadn’t gotten sober. Women I’ve met through The Sober Mom Life, at retreats, in our community. Women who understand what it feels like to sit at a table and wonder if you still belong there. These women don’t need me to hold a glass of wine to feel comfortable. They just need me to show up. And I need them to show up, too. That mutual showing up, without the haze of alcohol between us, is the most honest kind of friendship I’ve ever known.

So if you’re the sober friend right now, and it feels lonely, and you’re wondering if you made a mistake…you didn’t. You’re in the messy middle. The part where the old world is falling away and the new one hasn’t fully formed yet. It will. I promise you, it will. You just have to keep going.

If you're in the messy middle and you need those people now, that's exactly why I created The Sober Mom Life Cafe. It's a community of women who get it, who show up without the wine, and who are doing this alongside you. Come find your people.

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The right people will find you. And when they do, you won’t need a drink to feel like you belong. You’ll just…belong.

Keep going,

💛

Have you experienced the friendship shift in sobriety? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.

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Hi! I’m Suzanne Warye. I write about the myth of moderation, the lie of rock bottom, and the bright side of sobriety. My book, The Sober Shift, is out now — it’s the book I needed when I was stuck in the middle.

It was about 6 months into my sobriety when my husband and I were invited to a birthday party for one of our friends. I quit drinking in January 2020, just a month before the world as we knew it seemed to stop spinning. The silver lining of a months-long lockdown and pandemic was the social pressure that eased without any of my doing, and it’s only now that I see what a gift that was to my early sobriety. (I’ll write a post on that another time.)

I didn’t want to go to the party. As is, and has always been, my default setting: I wanted to stay home. I wanted to cozy up and shut down, in that order.

The old me would have already been at least one, maybe two, glasses of wine deep before we even left the house. And now, the new sober me was gripping a Waterloo and proactively sweating thinking about being the only one who wasn’t drinking.

We went. And it was fine. More than fine, actually. It was fun, and then I was ready to go home. (The story of my life.)

If you’re newly sober or sober-curious and dreading every social event on your calendar, I get it. The birthday dinners, the girls’ nights, the casual neighborhood hangouts, the weddings, the holidays, the random Tuesday when the mom in your kid’s class suggests drinks and you feel your stomach drop.

In early sobriety, social situations without alcohol can feel like showing up naked. You feel exposed without the thing you thought made you funnier, looser, more relaxed. (One night around drunk people will have you rethinking your hypothesis.)

Here’s what I know now that I didn’t know then: that discomfort is temporary. The freedom that comes from pushing through it is not.

The Lie We Tell Ourselves

When I was drinking, I believed I needed alcohol to be social. Without it, I was catapulted back to middle school and felt awkward and self-critical. I believed that alcohol was the reason I could loosen up at parties, be witty at dinner, and pretend to enjoy small talk. I knew no better social lubricant, and before quitting drinking had never taken the time necessary to question if alcohol was a social aid or a social hinderance.

But here’s what nobody tells you when you quit drinking: alcohol wasn’t making you fun, or funny, or interesting. It was making you numb.

The version of me who drank at parties wasn’t more fun and carefree. She was careless and loud. She repeated herself. She stayed too long and said things she couldn’t quite remember the next morning. She spent the drive home replaying conversations and wondering if she’d said the wrong thing, then spent Sunday morning in bed with a headache and a shame spiral.

What Actually Helps

I’m not going to tell you it’s easy, because it’s not. Especially at first. But…it gets easier. Here’s what helped me navigate social situations without alcohol, and what still helps me more than 6 years in.

Bring your own drink. I cannot stress this enough. Show up with something in your hand. A fancy mocktail. A sparkling water with lime. A ginger beer. Whatever you want. When you have something to hold and sip, you eliminate 90% of the awkwardness. Nobody is staring at your cup to see what’s in it. They’re far too busy worrying about themselves.

Have an exit plan. In early sobriety, I gave myself full permission to leave whenever I wanted to. That meant driving myself or having a plan with my husband or my friends. I rarely used it, but knowing I could leave when I wanted to made staying feel like a choice rather than a social trap.

Tell one person. You don’t have to announce your sobriety to the entire party. (I mean, you could and you would be my hero, but you don’t have to.) Telling just one safe person - your partner, your best friend, your sister - gives you an ally. You need someone who can grab you a refill on your mocktail or steer the conversation away from those pesky “Why aren’t you drinking?” questions before you’re ready to answer them. (And in case you never know how to respond, this post is for you.)

Think about tomorrow morning. When you’re standing at the drinks table and the wine is right there, think about how you want to feel tomorrow morning. One glass turns into three, remember? Three glasses turn into a foggy morning. A foggy morning turns into another day of regret and shame spirals and negative self talk. You’ve seen this film before. You know how it ends.

Let yourself leave early. You do not need to be the last one at the party. In fact, one of the most underrated joys of sobriety is leaving a gathering while the night is still young. Driving home clearheaded, washing your face, climbing into bed and falling asleep knowing you won’t wake up with dread is next level. That’s not boring. That’s freedom.

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The Truth About Being the Sober One

Here’s what surprised me most about being sober at social events: most people don’t care. I spent so much energy worrying about what everyone else would think of me not drinking, and the truth is, almost nobody noticed. And the ones who did? Their reaction told me far more about their relationship with alcohol than it did about mine.

The people who push back when you’re not drinking are the ones who need you to drink so they can feel better about their own choices. Your sobriety holds up a mirror, and not everyone wants to look into it. That’s not your problem to solve.

Plus, the conversations I have now are better. Real, actual conversations where I’m present and engaged and remembering every single word the next morning. I laugh harder sober than I ever did drunk, because the laughter is real and not just the result of my fourth glass of wine making everything seem hilarious. It’s fun and laughter without the shame.

A Note for Right Now

If you have something coming up - a wedding, a vacation, a dinner, a Friday night - and you’re already dreading it, I want you to hear this:

You’ve already done one of the hardest things by choosing not to drink. A party is nothing compared to that.

You don’t have to be the funniest person in the room. You don’t have to stay until the end. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. You have nothing to prove. You just have to show up as yourself, fully present, and let that be enough.

Because it is enough. You are enough. You have always been enough.

Alcohol just made you forget.

Keep going,

💛

PS: If this resonated, restack it so someone who needs it sees it this weekend.

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If you’ve been sober longer than 5 minutes, chances are you’ve been asked this question: “Why aren’t you drinking?”

It’s insane, really.

Has anyone ever asked, “Why aren’t you smoking?” or “Why aren’t you doing meth?”

No, obviously. Because everyone knows that cigarettes and meth are highly addictive, cause cancer and can ruin lives.

(Ummmm. Who’s going to tell them? OK. I will.)

There are many reasons people ask a non-drinker why they’re not drinking, and almost all of them have to do with the question-asker’s relationship with alcohol and nothing to do with that fact that you, the non-drinker, aren’t drinking.

Still, it can be confronting, especially if you’re in early sobriety and still working out your own reasons for not drinking.

No, you don’t have to go into your whole story. “Well, Janet, it all started when I was 15 years old and had my first drink and finally felt like I belonged...”

Instead, you can have a handful of responses ready to the question, “Why aren’t you drinking?”

Or…you can simply ask her, “Why are you drinking?”

🙃

Share Sober for Good by Suzanne Warye

33 Responses to “Why aren’t you drinking?”

1. I don’t drink anymore.

2. Alcohol doesn’t fit my life anymore.

3. I’ve outgrown alcohol.

4. I did Sober October and loved it so much, I kept going.

5. I was tired of feeling like shit.

6. I got tired of not remembering what I ordered online.

7. Alcohol is horrible for my anxiety.

8. I realized alcohol was making me tolerate things I shouldn’t.

9. Alcohol messed with my sleep, and I love my sleep.

10. Even one glass of wine affected my mood for days.

11. I retired from drinking X days/months/years ago.

12. Alcohol doesn’t agree with me anymore. (And I don’t agree with it.)

13. My kids started noticing when I drank, so I quit.

14. Those 3 AM shame spirals were like torture.

15. I hated feeling fuzzy when I woke up.

16. I like myself better without alcohol.

17. I don’t drink — and I don’t miss it.

18. I feel free without alcohol.

19. Alcohol and I broke up.

20. I gave alcohol a chance; now I’m giving sobriety a chance.

21. I broke up with alcohol X months ago.

22. I realized alcohol makes motherhood so much harder.

23. My 20’s were for drinking. My 40’s are for feeling.

24. I’m allergic to alcohol’s bullshit.

25. Those 20 minutes just aren’t worth it to me anymore.

26. I realized alcohol made everything worse.

27. I committed to X amount of time to give my body and mind a break from alcohol.

28. Alcohol took way more than it gave.

29. I used to be a hot mess. Now I’m just hot.

30. My nervous system deserves a break.

31. I’m leaning into consistency these days, and alcohol brought so much inconsistency.

32. I’ve never regretted not drinking.

33. Mind your own beeswax.

What’s on your list? Let me know in the comments!

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