Who Am I Without the Wine?
Rewriting Fun, Friendship, and Identity
In the first months without alcohol, the loudest question isn’t always “Can I do this?”
It’s often, “Who am I now?”
If your identity has been wrapped up in being “the fun one,” the planner, the one more round friend… early sobriety can feel like standing in a quiet room and wondering if anyone will still recognize you. I get it. I’ve lived it. I was always - and I mean always - the friend offering to bring wine (to make sure there was ‘enough’), the one encouraging ‘one more stop’, the one planning bloody mary’s or mimosas so I could day-drink, the one suggesting shots. And now I’ve coached hundreds of women through the same ache - the ache of ‘who am I without alcohol?’
Here’s the truth: you’re not losing yourself - you’re meeting her.
“She’s not fun anymore” (and other projections)
A story I hear all the time: someone in the friend group quits drinking… and the whispers start. She’s no fun. What happened? Is she okay?
It stings, especially when you’re next in line. You can already hear the commentary, because they said it to you about her last month.
But most reactions say more about them than they do about you.
People who are uncomfortable with their own drinking, or who equate fun with intoxication, will sometimes try to pull you back into the old dance. It’s not personal - it’s protective. Their commentary is a mirror, not a mandate.
You can’t control their opinions. You can control your response.
Put the blinders on. Grow the “I-don’t-need-your-approval” muscle.
Be supportive where you can, neutral where you must, and rooted in what’s right for you.
Keep some folks on the outer circle, and be okay if they never move closer. In kid-centered groups or long-standing neighborhoods, sometimes “smile and nod” is the most peaceful boundary. You can keep the peace without abandoning yourself.
“Am I still fun?” Untangling identity from alcohol
This one runs deep. For years, alcohol may have felt like the shortcut to charm, ease, wit, connection. Without it, you might wonder: If I’m not the life of the party, what do I bring?
Early on, it’s awkward. You might feel like a toddler learning to walk - a little cringey, a little wobbly. That’s normal. And then - sooner or later - something shifts.
You notice you’re sharper. You listen better. Your timing is quicker. You laugh - real belly laughs - because you’re actually present. You leave a night out thinking, Oh. I’m genuinely funny. I’m genuinely me. Trust me - there is nothing better than tears-running-down-your-face laughing when you’re stone cold sober. Because then you know - this is real joy. Real fun. Real life. And it’s the best🖤
“I was sharper, funnier, and more me without alcohol. It was liberating.”
Here’s a reframe that can help: were people already side-eyeing your drinking?
If the group was quietly clocking how many times you topped off their glasses after they said they were done, then the fear of “what they’ll say now” doesn’t hold as much power. They may talk either way. And that’s ok! Choose yourself.
When your partner still drinks
Another honest hurdle: what happens when your partner keeps drinking and your old “us time” was the evening wind-down together? Again - I feel this one. Deeply. My hubby and I are college sweethearts. Drinking was part of our everything - dating, married, then married-with-kids. Untangling alcohol from our relationship was daunting - but I knew it had to be done. Here’s my best advice:
You don’t have to force a perfect solution. You do need new associations.
Shift the timing. Try connection earlier: post-dinner walks, card games after the kids’ homework, weekend morning coffee + a movie (instead of late night drinks + movies).
Name the change. “Evenings are hard for me right now. Can we move our hangout to earlier so I still get us-time?”
Expect trial and error. It may feel clunky while you both recalibrate. That’s okay. Awkward isn’t wrong - it’s transitional. And temporary.
Remember: you’re not asking him to change who he is; you’re changing how you live. That clarity often invites small changes on its own.
Need to go deeper into how to navigate your own sobriety with a husband that still drinks? I devoted a whole podcast episode to the topic. Listen here.
Language that liberates
If “forever” feels heavy, drop it. Language should empower, not oppress.
“I’m free to drink anytime - I just don’t want to.”
That sentence holds more ease than any grand declaration. It honors your agency and keeps you anchored in choice, which is where real freedom lives.
And on the days when your brain wants big answers, come back to the smallest one:
One day at a time. I’m taking this one day at a time.
Stack the days you’re proud of. That’s how identity rewrites itself - quietly, consistently, kindly.
You’re not losing your people - you’re finding your people🖤
Some relationships will soften. Some will surprise you. Some will become sweeter because you’re fully there. And yes, some will stay on the edges - which is exactly where they belong.
You’ll also notice something else: there are far more non-drinkers (or light drinkers) in the world than you realized. When you’re no longer scanning the room for refills, you start spotting the ones who are simply living - laughing, connecting, creating, remembering. Your future friends are already out there, doing Saturday mornings instead of Saturday midnights.
Who you are without the wine…
You’re the woman who can hold her own laughter and her own boundaries.
Who chooses presence over performance.
Who can sit with uncertainty without spiraling.
Who trusts herself.
You’re not less fun; you’re less filtered.
You’re not less social; you’re more selective.
You’re not missing out; you’re opting in - to your life, your peace, your people.
If you’re in your first months and it all feels tender: keep going.
You’re not losing yourself. You’re meeting her - clear, grounded, and gloriously real.
xx -
Shannon