TGIF :: When Yes/No > Sometimes
#95 || Because "maybe" and "sometimes" can be exhausting
Emerging
I’m just this morning coming back to life after several full, sweet weeks of family events: three birthdays, three graduations, and all the gatherings, logistics, emotions, and reflection that come with them. I’ve loved the celebrations—reunions, heartfelt toasts, long hugs, meaningful moments with family and friends—as my partner and I honored this big season for our three sons. And we know we are blessed that we are all generally healthy, finding our way(s), and have more to be grateful for than lamenting. Hand on heart (and naps, please).
On the (Topic) Menu: Alcohol
Amidst all of the festivities, the topic of alcohol came up often. Of course, the teens are exploring their own lessons around alcohol—but more often, it was the adults reflecting on their own habits.
At one graduation dinner it came up at the end of the meal, a fellow mom telling me about her recent choice to just cut it out “better through menopause, for sure.” At a pre-ceremony brunch yesterday, another explained her noticeable weight loss as directly tied to her cutting alcohol in January “twenty-six pounds just fell off.” A dad chimed in at a reunion “Honestly, it’s just less fun at this age, you know? It’s hard enough to stay fit without nightly drinks.” The topic feels more prevalent than ever as more and more people are opting out.
The Sometimes Game
Other conversations offered glimpses into the murky terrain of “sometimes.” I’ve noticed—both in myself and others—that it can feel easier to say yes or no than to stay in the grey of maybe.
“I drink sometimes, and I always hate it after the fact, but I just don’t want to draw such a hard line. Life is short, you know?”
“I don’t drink—except for on vacation. Time off just isn’t the same without wine at dinner or cold beers on the beach.”
“I did Dry January and felt amazing. I thought I’d go back and just drink less, but now I’m back to where I was.”
I get it. I really do. For years, I played these games with myself: only after 6 p.m. Only wine. Only weekends. Only with special meals. Only while traveling. Only with friends. Only with enough water.
But this took a lot of thinking, planning, justifying, considering, and communicating. It was exhausting.
That “Time Expensive” Glass of Wine
All of this brought me back to a night I’ve written about before—a night that captures the mental gymnastics I used to go through around one glass of wine, before I stopped altogether. I wasn’t drinking heavily, not by any clinical measure. But the energy I gave it—the anticipation, the negotiation, the internal chitter chatter, the self-questioning—was disproportionate. That moment became a turning point, one I detail in the first chapter of my forthcoming book:
“Should we have a drink?” he asked, scanning the menu. I paused, thinking I’d far exceeded my one-month “dry” goal. If there was ever a time for a nice glass of wine, it’s now. “Sure.”
When the waiter set my glass down, I shivered. The glass itself was beautiful, not one of those cheap and durable restaurant glasses. It was tall and thin, probably hand buffed. The wine itself glowed a ruby hue in our dimly lit space. Wow. I get to do this, I thought, feeling a little thrill. It’s been almost three months—easy. Clearly I don’t have a “problem,” so why not? We clinked glasses and exchanged careful smiles. I took a slow and conscious sip of my Russian River pinot noir. It tasted syrupy, sweeter than usual (had my palate changed?). I drank it slowly, in micro-sips, throughout our two-hour meal.
Though our conversation was steady, my mind raced privately, pulling me out of the moment, distracted: Does it matter that I broke my dry streak? Should I tell anyone? Is it weird if I don’t? If I finish this, should I have another? How soon would I need to finish it to have the right amount of time to enjoy a second? Do I feel a buzz? Do I want to? Will I have a drink tomorrow or over the weekend? Is this… fun?
A week went by and I didn’t have another drink, though I considered it several times and found the internal and private conversation distracting–annoying even. It was empowering to know that I was consciously making the choice to drink something else—water, tea, anything other than alcohol—each day without much, if any strife. I still felt free, maybe even a bit victorious—liberated from the tug from something I’d worried might have me in its grip. And life was starting to feel more steady, less volatile.
Feeling confident and free later that month I started to experiment with occasional drinking again. I mean, I wasn’t addicted, and it was the holiday season. I enjoyed a wine tasting (benign), drank a bit at an office holiday party (no big deal), and felt like a “normal” person (yay). I reminded myself of something my late mother used to say: “Only addicts have to stop. Everything in moderation!”1
Moderation is great, for some
But that’s not true for all of us. And ultimately, these are personal choices—no one else can make them for us. Is life better with the occasional drink, our own version of moderation? Maybe it’s easier to just be a clean and clear “yes” or “no” to alcohol?
I know for me, one year clear quieted the noise. No more internal negotiating, justifying, questioning, debating, or energy spent deciding then rehashing after the fact. This freed up all of that energy for other things and in that quiet, I could finally experience what life felt like, undimmed.
By the end of the year, I had enough information to know my life is better without it. Life may not be easier, per se, but the choices around whether I drink or not aren’t even choices anymore. There is a new and most welcome spaciousness around it. It’s just the way things are now.
Practices to Support Exploring Whether Yes/No > Sometimes
Track the Mental Load
For one week, notice and take note each time you think about drinking: whether, when, how much, with whom, what kind, what time, with what, and so on. Don’t change anything—just observe. At the end of the week, ask yourself: How much energy am I spending just deciding? That alone can offer powerful insight.Try a Gentle Experiment
Choose a set period—7 days, 30 days, whatever feels doable—and say a full “no” to alcohol (or whatever dimmer you are working with), just for now. Notice what changes. Not just physically, but emotionally, socially, mentally. What becomes clearer? What becomes harder? What becomes easier?Tune Into Your ‘After’
Each time you do have a drink (or indulge in a dimmer you are trying to shift a relationship with), pause later that day or the next morning and ask: How do I feel now? Would I make the same choice again? Sometimes the “after” holds the clearest truth.Rewrite the Script
We often use alcohol or other dimmers—pot, sugar, spending—to mark time: celebration, stress, transition. Try identifying what you’re actually reaching for in those moments—relief? connection? a sense of ease?—and experiment with meeting that need differently. You might surprise yourself with how effective a walk, a bath, or a real conversation can be.
I’d love to hear from you if this resonates. And please consider joining our Zoom tomorrow if inclined (details below).
Love.
One Hour Zoom on this topic… Our next Sangha Saturday is tomorrow, June 14th, 2025 at 9:00 AM PT / Noon ET. We begin with a brief meditation, set a bit of context, and then open the space for shared exploration, this week about the value of yes/no/sometimes. While not about “sobriety” or “recovery,” we are all actively exploring a life without dimmers. Link for an invitation here.
The trouble is, you think you have time… I’ve followed Laura’s work for a long time (I was among her earliest Facebook supporters when she released her first book!) but this one is one of my favorites. Published yesterday, she invites us to question how much time we actually have to be considering and re-considering our relationship with alcohol. Thank you,
, for this one!I take issue with this comment now. In my experience, it isn’t true. Another post for another day.
You’re so right. It is much easier to say yes or no!