Have you ever asked yourself if alcohol might be holding you back—mentally, physically, emotionally, or even professionally? I did. Not because I was binge drinking or spiraling into crisis, but because I noticed something subtler: a dependency built on routine and cultural norms. A drink after work, a toast at dinner, a celebration, a consolation—it became a silent partner in everything I did.

I wasn’t an alcoholic by clinical standards. According to the DSM-5, alcohol use disorder is defined by patterns of problematic use leading to significant impairment or distress. I didn’t fit that criteria. But I did rely on alcohol in all the socially accepted ways. And as any behavioral psychologist will tell you, dependence doesn’t have to be dramatic to be damaging.

In January, I challenged myself to something I had never done in my adult life: 30 days without alcohol. Cold turkey. No exceptions. I got the idea from a podcast episode on masculinity and self-mastery. The host spoke about redefining control—not as abstinence for its own sake, but as the power to choose rather than be led by habit. That stuck with me.

The first 30 days: habit disruption

The beginning was rough. Not physically—I didn’t go through withdrawal—but socially and emotionally. Social psychology teaches us that humans are deeply influenced by group norms. When everyone around you is raising a glass, it takes mental effort and self-assurance to say no. I felt awkward. Even silly. Like I was missing out.

This was my first real encounter with what psychologists call behavioral conditioning. Over years, I had trained my brain to associate alcohol with pleasure, reward, relief, and connection. Pavlovian, really. A hot day meant beer. A win meant champagne. A rough week meant whiskey. Those patterns didn’t vanish overnight. The first month was a psychological tug-of-war between who I had been and who I wanted to become.

Day 60 and beyond: a psychological shift

By the 60-day mark, something clicked. My sleep improved. My energy stabilized. I noticed my mood swings were less erratic. What was happening wasn’t just physical—it was cognitive. I had started engaging in what’s known as meta-cognition—thinking about my thinking. I began observing my cravings, rather than reacting to them. Instead of fighting them, I got curious. Why did I feel like I needed a drink right now? What feeling was I trying to avoid?

This practice is closely related to mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT), a proven method for breaking addictive loops. The more I watched my thoughts without judgment, the more power I had over them. By the time I hit 90 days, I no longer felt deprived—I felt free.

Studies back this up. According to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, abstaining from alcohol for even 30–60 days can significantly improve cognitive function, liver health, and sleep patterns. One 2022 study published in The Lancet even found that zero alcohol consumption was associated with the lowest health risks, contradicting the long-standing myth that moderate drinking is “heart-healthy.”

The Ibiza test: real control

Then came the ultimate test—my wedding anniversary trip to Ibiza. Sun, sand, music, friends—all of it wrapped in the usual festive atmosphere of cocktails and carefree abandon. In the past, this environment would have been a green light for overindulgence.

I felt the old pull, but this time, I paused. I reached out to mentors and fellow coaches, and to my surprise, none of them said, “Stay strong.” Instead, they said, “Don’t be hard on yourself if you choose to drink.”

That word—choose—made all the difference.

So I did. I had a drink. Not out of rebellion or relapse, but as a deliberate act. There was no binge, no blackout, no shame. And that’s when I realized: alcohol no longer had control over me. I wasn’t white-knuckling my way through sobriety; I was living in alignment with what served me.

Cognitive reframing: a new lens

What I experienced is known in psychology as cognitive reframing—the process of changing the way you interpret events so they carry a different emotional meaning. I didn’t stop drinking because I hated myself or felt guilty. I stopped because it no longer aligned with the person I wanted to be. And when I chose to drink again, it wasn’t automatic—it was conscious. That’s agency.

This is at the heart of self-determination theory, which suggests that we are most fulfilled when our actions stem from intrinsic motivation rather than external pressure. Quitting—or moderating—wasn’t about discipline. It was about discovering that I could feel joy, connection, and relief without relying on alcohol as a proxy.

The bigger picture: beyond alcohol

Alcohol is just one habit. Maybe for you it’s scrolling mindlessly, overworking, sugar, or perfectionism. The substance or behavior isn’t the core issue—it’s what it covers. Our habits often act as emotional regulators, soothing discomfort we haven’t learned to face directly.

As a coach, I see this pattern all the time: people running on fumes, numbing their burnout with consumption—of alcohol, content, distraction. It’s not weakness; it’s wiring. But wiring can be reprogrammed.

I’ve created a free video series on exactly this—how to reset your patterns, reframe your thinking, and rebuild your habits with intention. Not from shame. Not from scarcity. But from clarity.

The moral

The moral of this story isn’t “never drink again.” It’s awareness. It’s asking yourself honestly: “Does this habit serve me—or do I serve it?” It's about reclaiming control through conscious choice, not rigid avoidance.

Whether you're leading a team, coaching clients, or just trying to be better for yourself, that question matters. Because when you change your habits, you don’t just change your behavior—you change your identity.

And sometimes, all it takes to change your life is 176 days of honest reflection.