Why I’m Looking Forward to Dry January

My last Dry January wasn’t entirely voluntary. It was 2021, and my health had just taken a mysterious decline, resulting in two strokes and the loss of vision in my right eye. “Can I still drink?” I asked my neurosurgeon before leaving the hospital. “Only the good stuff,” he laughed, and I happily obliged.

That December, the morning after a holiday party, I looked in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back at me. My eye had almost completely swollen shut. I held cold soda cans against my lid to relieve the constant throbbing pain. This is all my fault, I thought to myself, remembering the previous night’s champagne toast. A quick Google search for “alcohol and inflammation” ultimately worsened my guilt.

In retrospect, having just undergone major surgery, my untimely flare-up was more likely caused by an infection or post-op complication (it was later resolved by a long bout of IV antibiotics). Still, this health scare sent me into a three-year period of total sobriety from alcohol. It’s what I needed to do, I told myself. I didn’t have a choice.

“I’m sober, but I hate it,” is usually how I described my situation to fellow 23-year-olds who couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t down a $5 vodka Red Bull at the local dive. They gave me a pass, but even then, barely, sometimes asking for more details to ensure that I really couldn’t drink. For some of them, not wanting to imbibe just wasn’t a good enough reason to opt out.

In 2024, I had another major flare-up, only this time I had been sober for years. I started drinking again in 2025, resentful that all my hard work and self-control hadn’t completely cured me. But the truth is, I missed the way sobriety made me feel. Sure, it was nice to indulge in a beer at the beach, but I started to notice spikes in my anxiety, dips in my sleep schedule, and inconsistencies within my fitness routine.

I knew I could stop drinking again at any time. But having been sober before, I also knew how difficult it can be to explain why I wanted to stop drinking . . . especially in the middle of the year. “You should never feel the need to justify yourself to anyone,” you tell me (and I’d be inclined to agree). But I still feel it when my mother is uncorking her last bottle of Pinot, or my coworkers are asking for my order at happy hour, or my Hinge date is wondering why I don’t want to go out for drinks this weekend.

I’ve handled these scenarios before, and I’ll gladly do it again. But Dry January is a beautiful opportunity to go cold turkey without facing the usual societal pressure to drink. Because truthfully, cutting out alcohol was never easy for me, and it’s nice to do it without an extra layer of stress.

There were still tough moments in those three years without alcohol. I felt more awkward among newer friends, bored in bars, and tired on the dance floor. But I also never had a moment of hangxiety, I regulated my sleep schedule, I exceeded my fitness goals, and I spent time pouring into hobbies that brought me joy — like video editing and scrapbooking. I felt strong, stable, and in control, which were qualities I needed in order to keep my head above water with a chronic illness.

This year, almost a week sober already, I’m excited to cut out alcohol because I genuinely want to feel better — not because I feel like I have to. I seriously doubt my journey will end in a month, but I’m grateful to Dry January for giving me the push I needed to dive back in . . . this time, enthusiastically.

Chandler Plante (she/her) is a social producer and staff writer for the Health & Fitness team at Popsugar. She has over five years of industry experience, previously working as an editorial assistant for People magazine, a social media manager for Millie magazine, and a contributor for Bustle Digital Group. She has a degree in magazine journalism from Syracuse University and is based in Los Angeles.