Alcohol + Perimenopause: My 90-Day Alcohol-Free Journey
{…and why I didn’t go back}
Perimenopause has a way of “rearranging the furniture” of your life without asking first.
Sleep becomes unreliable, your mood feels unfamiliar, and the energy you used to count on turns selective.
And then there’s alcohol - the thing that once softened the edges, the evening ritual that felt earned, the glass you poured without thinking.
Until one day, you start to wonder if it’s quietly amplifying everything you’re trying to steady.
If you’ve ever woken up at 2 a.m. with your mind in overdrive and thought,
Is this just me?, this is for you.
I didn’t quit drinking because I hit a dramatic low. I quit because it stopped working.
It disrupted my sleep, magnified hormonal chaos, and blurred my sense of myself.
And when I removed it, something unexpected happened.
Clarity returned.
Not all at once. Not in fireworks. But steadily, like fog lifting when you hadn’t realized how thick it was.
So if you’re starting to pay closer attention to what your body can and can’t tolerate in midlife, or if you’re even a little sober-curious, here’s what ninety days without alcohol taught me, and why I haven’t looked back.
“Wait… YOU don’t drink?”
I hear that question a lot. And yes. I stopped.
No breakdown, big announcement, or taking moral stance.
Just a quiet, firm knowing: I’M DONE.
That decision came as perimenopause arrived, when my body made it impossible to ignore what wasn’t supporting me anymore.
And honestly?
BEST. DECISION. EVER.
Early 2024, with NO rules for forever.
Just a commitment to see what happens if I stopped interfering with my own system.
Today, I’m 755 days alcohol-free.
And I have ZERO regrets.
Life as a Mid-Lane Drinker
I was never dependent, but I enjoyed it.
Wine with friends, prosecco at brunch, the ordinary evening where a glass marked the transition from responsibility to rest.
What people often call middle-lane drinking.
Alcohol is a bit like social media in that way. It’s hard to truly understand its impact when it’s always been part of the backdrop.
Without ever stepping outside of it, there’s no clean baseline.
No lived reference point for who you are, how you feel, how you move through the day without it in the mix.
And so we interpret everything through the same lens. Energy dips, low-grade anxiety, restless sleep, as just how life is.
But what if some of that isn’t life at all? What if it’s simply the environment we’ve never questioned?
And then something shifted after forty.
One glass started landing like three. My skin lost its brightness, my sleep unraveled, and my body felt resistant no matter how “clean” I ate.
And that’s the thing about midlife change. It’s rarely one dramatic symptom.
It’s the accumulation.
The low-grade friction.
The quiet sense that your body is asking for something different, over and over, until you finally listen.
The Automatic 5 p.m. POUR
For years, alcohol was simply embedded.
It signaled the end of the day.
It marked connection, celebration, decompression.
But in my forties, the impact grew louder.
What once felt relaxing started feeling heavy.
Alcohol didn’t take the edge off anymore, it added weight.
To my sleep.
To my mood.
To my nervous system.
Is the Cost Still Worth It?
That’s what we don’t talk about enough.
Alcohol doesn’t just reduce sleep quantity. It steals the quality; the deep, restorative processes that matter most in midlife.
My face looked puffy.
My body felt unfamiliar. Not wrong, just slightly out of sync, like I was living half a step behind myself.
I noticed how long it took to feel normal again.
How one evening bled into the next day.
How I was starting each morning already in recovery mode.
Eventually, the question became unavoidable: “Is this glass of wine actually worth the cost?”
Not in theory. Not socially. But in my actual body.
For me, the answer was NO.
So I stopped. Not as an identity, not as a statement, not as a forever declaration.
But as an experiment - a pause long enough to see what happens when I stopped asking my body to compensate for something it no longer tolerated.
Breaking the Habit {Not the Social Life}
The early weeks weren’t difficult, but they were revealing.
Every evening, right around five, the urge would surface, not a craving exactly, more like a cue; “You’ve earned this. This is how we unwind.”
That’s when I realized I wasn’t attached to alcohol itself. I was attached to the ritual.
So I started rewiring it. Sparkling water in a real glass. Journaling instead of numbing. Interrupting the belief that relaxation required a drink.
Social situations felt awkward at first, not because I wanted alcohol, but because so much adult connection is built around it.
And that’s where reaching ninety days became the goal.
Not because everything suddenly felt amazing, but because enough had shifted to notice.
Sleep was steadier. Mornings were clearer. My system felt calmer overall. Nothing dramatic. Just different enough to pay attention.
By then, I wasn’t asking myself “Can I keep doing this?”
I was asking Do I actually want to go back?
Once I had that answer, the rest felt simple.
Why Moderation Didn’t Work for Me
Moderation sounds reasonable.
Just one.
Just weekends.
Just socially.
But for many mid-lane drinkers, especially in perimenopause, it becomes mentally exhausting.
Not because of willpower. Because the line keeps moving.
A clean break removed the negotiation.
I didn’t quit “forever.” I quit for today.
Just one quiet promise each day: “Today, I’m not going to drink”.
Not forever. Not a big announcement. Just TODAY.
Then tomorrow. Then….again.
Even now, that’s the agreement.
>>> As my body changed in my forties, my yoga practice needed to change too. What once worked didn’t always feel supportive anymore.
If your body is asking for something different, you can read more here: How Yoga Changes in Your 40s.
What Changed When I Stopped Interfering With My Body
My skin settled. Hormonal breakouts faded. The stubborn bloat eased.
But the biggest shift was internal.
I felt present again. More available to my own life. Less reactive, and more grounded.
The connection I thought alcohol gave me, the laughter, the ease, was still there. What disappeared were the parts I never actually wanted.
The fog. The anxiety. The recovery loop.
Without alcohol constantly destabilizing my system, my body had room to recalibrate.
I stopped waking up already depleted. I have energy that isn’t borrowed from tomorrow. And my nervous system feels less inflamed, less brittle.
Clarity replaced coping, by far my biggest win.
Podcasts, Books, and Community Support
Feeling better was one thing.
Learning how to live alcohol-free in a world organized around drinking was another.
And quitting drinking can get lonely, especially when alcohol has been woven into how you connect, celebrate, or belong. Even when the decision feels right, there’s often an adjustment period.
What made the biggest difference for me wasn’t discipline or resolve.
It was support.
Voices that normalized the questions. People’s stories that reflected my own without dramatizing them. And many, many communities that reminded me I wasn’t doing this in isolation.
Here are a few that genuinely helped.
Here are a few that really helped:
🎧 Podcasts That Helped Me Reframe My Relationship With Alcohol
Over the Influence — honest conversations and grounded, alcohol-free stories
The Andy Ramage Podcast / The Alcohol-Free Podcast — mindset, identity, habit change
This Naked Mind Podcast — real stories about changing your relationship with alcohol
Community Support
Sarah Rusbatch’s Community — a supportive space for mid-lane drinkers, sober-curious women, and anyone exploring a healthier relationship with alcohol
Book Recommendations
The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober — Catherine Gray
This Naked Mind — Annie Grace
Alcohol Explained — William Porter
The Sober Diaries — Clare Pooley
755 Days Alcohol-Free: What I Know Now
I won’t pretend the whole thing was effortless, but I also know, without hesitation, that I wouldn’t go back.
I feel more connected to my body now, more rooted, more awake inside my own life.
My relationships feel different too, in the best way, because I’m actually present. I’m not half-distracted, not recovering, not running on fumes.
Choosing to stop drinking during perimenopause wasn’t about being extreme. It was about paying attention.
Seven hundred fifty-five days in, I can see how much alcohol had been masking things I needed to see clearly; my sleep, my energy, my hormones, my stress, my capacity to show up the way I wanted to.
Perimenopause is no joke. Removing alcohol didn’t erase the symptoms, but it did make them easier to navigate. Less noise. More signal.
And if a part of you is wondering what a small break might offer, try it, not forever, just as an experiment. Even a few weeks can be an eye-opening.
You might be surprised by how good you feel.
If this resonated…
…and if you’re in a season of paying closer attention to your body, your energy, or the quiet ways your life is asking to be rearranged, you might enjoy my newsletter.
I write about yoga, midlife, nervous system regulation, movement, and what it looks like to live with more clarity and less interference.
