What if they think I was a drunk? What if they imagine I was day drinking or passing out at home or stumbling around inebriated every day? What if every positive thing I’ve ever done in my life will have an asterisk next to it now— *but she couldn’t control the alcohol.


These are all the things that went through my mind when I was trying to decide whether or not to share with you that I had given up drinking for the year, and quite possibly, for life. More than anything, I want you to like and respect me. What you think of me matters. It’s mattered so much that I’ve not lived my most honest life.


It would have been really easy to call this a “health journey” or a “detox” or a “challenge,” because it IS all of those things. But as I’ve cruised into my 40s, I’ve developed an intolerance for bullshit, most especially my own.

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