SOMETIMESSOBER.
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If you’re reading this, thank you. Truly. Whether you found this blog by accident, curiosity, or because you’re searching for something that speaks to where you are in your own journey—I’m glad you’re here.
My goal with this blog isn’t fame or attention (though, I’ll admit, writing about myself does give my ego a little boost and content creation is a cushy gig). What I really want is to create a space where people in recovery—or those struggling with substance use who haven’t yet found a path to sobriety—can hear a different kind of voice. One that’s honest, personal, and maybe a little bit different from what you’ve heard before. For a long time, I thought sobriety had to look a certain way. A rigid, lifelong sentence or a one-size-fits-all approach. My early attempts at getting sober didn’t quite click for me. It felt like I was supposed to adopt an entirely new identity overnight—one that didn’t feel natural or sustainable.
But then something shifted. I started thinking about my future, my health, and the people I love. Something my selfish-ass is realizing I've really never done before. I've always been the main character in my life and although independence is a great thing, vanity is another. But, I realized that my choices weren’t just about me anymore. My mind began to clear day by day, and with that came a new sense of awareness. I was tired—tired of the cycle of hangovers, anxiety, exhaustion, and the feeling of being disconnected from the life I wanted to live. I’m also getting married soon, and that’s been a huge motivation. Not just for my own well-being, but to break a cycle that’s been spinning through my family for generations.
Now, if you're still actually reading, you might be wondering about the name—Sometimes Sober. No, it’s not about promoting moderation (that’s a path I personally can’t walk). It’s about acknowledging that sobriety is allowing progression in any way, shape or form without our drug or drink of choice. I’ve learned that there are many ways to recover—programs, therapy, medication, and chemical support like methadone, suboxone, Cali sober etc.—and no two people will have the exact same path. What matters is finding what is authentic to you and that you never go back to what hurts you and the people around you again.
As someone still early in my own recovery—again—I want to share what I’ve learned over the years: through alcoholism, relapse, reflection, and restarting. Some of my thoughts may not line up with traditional approaches, but everything I share comes from a place of growth, learning, and a deep desire to live with honesty and intention.
I once told a friend, “I can’t get sober again—it’s such an exhausting lifestyle.” She gently replied, “So is drinking.” That simple truth stayed with me, and it’s something I come back to often.
So here I am, sharing my story, hoping it resonates with someone out there who needs to hear that sobriety doesn’t have to be perfect to be meaningful. I hope you find something here that makes your path feel more authentic to you.
With love,
Sometimes Sober​
THE MIND OF A YOUNG-ISH ALCOHOLIC
PARTY'S NOT OVER
It Takes Time
For years, I kept my struggles hidden behind the scenes, pretending like everything was fine. I was out there hosting events, recording podcasts, and posting on social media like I had my life together.
But what no one knew was that I was using alcohol to get through the day, to numb the fear and anxiety that seemed to follow me everywhere. It wasn’t just a drink—it was my way of coping.​​​​​
Why Me?
I’d watch people around me drink casually, and I’d think, “Why can’t I do that? Why can’t I just have a drink without it being a whole thing?” The problem was, I wasn’t really like them. I didn’t have a healthy relationship with alcohol. It was my crutch, my escape.
The more I tried to “fit in” with normal drinkers, the more I realized how much I was fooling myself. I wasn’t drinking for fun—I was drinking because I couldn’t handle being in my own skin. And that’s where things got messy. I ruined friendships, missed opportunities, and isolated myself all because I couldn’t stop the cycle.
Stuck Social Butterfly
I’ve always been a social person. I love being around people, talking, sharing ideas, and having a good time. But in reality, I was terrified. I was constantly afraid of being judged, of being seen as less than. I felt like there was this pressure on me to be someone I wasn’t. And for a long time, I used alcohol to get through it.
Every podcast I recorded, every event I hosted, I had a drink in hand. I’d joke about it, laugh it off, act like it was no big deal. But the truth was, I was using it to hide. I was hiding my fears, my insecurities, and the fact that I was battling mental health issues I didn’t understand.
Why Them?
One thing I’ve noticed, especially after entering recovery, is that it’s easy to look at others struggling with alcohol and think, “Why don’t they just stop?” It’s so obvious to me now how much it’s hurting them, how much better their lives could be without it. But I know it’s not that simple. I know because I was there too.
Addiction is tricky. You don’t just stop because you see the damage it’s doing. It’s a complicated mess of emotions, fear, and shame that takes time to unravel. And the hardest part is understanding that you can’t make someone change—they have to want it themselves.
Drinking to be Free
Here’s the thing: I really love drinking. It wasn’t about trying to escape reality; I genuinely enjoyed it. But I didn’t know back then that it was also my way of dealing with panic attacks and agoraphobia. I didn’t understand why the world felt so overwhelming. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.
It wasn’t until 2022, when I entered rehab, that I started to connect the dots. I’d been self-medicating with alcohol for years, not realizing that the real issue was my mental health. And even after all that, I didn’t just stop drinking. I couldn’t. It was part of how I functioned.
New Community
When I started going to AA, I felt like I was finally seeing people who really got it. People who understood what it was like to feel trapped in your own mind, to use alcohol to cope with fear and anxiety. It wasn’t easy, but I started learning how to be okay with not having it all figured out.
“Take what works for you” is a common saying in recovery, and I’ve taken that to heart. I don’t have to follow anyone else’s exact path—I just have to take the things that help me move forward. Recovery is personal. It’s messy. It’s imperfect. But the one thing I’ve learned is that I don’t have to do it alone.