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Friday, January 9, 2026
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HomeOpinionColumnHappy birthday to my sobriety

Happy birthday to my sobriety

By Robert Dean

This week I turn 44.

This time last year, I got sober.

I wasn’t a daily drinker, but when I went out, I went hard in the paint—Jameson by the bottle, cheap beer in between. I’d pick booze money over dinner when I was broke. I bought into the fiction that writers had to drink, that good work came from mining your own misery. If you needed a drinking buddy, I was always down. Late nights with weird people. Driving home seeing double. Debit card declined for thirty bucks. It wasn’t my best work.

I’d been thinking about quitting for a while. I was tired of living like a frayed wire—tired of hangovers, of wasting entire days recovering, of letting my demons take the wheel. I’d wake up cringing at my texts, realizing I’d completely misunderstood some simple conversation.

When I told my doctor I wanted to stop, we made a plan. I’ve had anxiety for years; I just didn’t realize I was using alcohol to self-medicate. I got on meds for anxiety and depression—something I wish I’d done years ago.

People ask how I’ve made it a year. The answer’s simple; one day at a time. I never look beyond the day I’m living. I value that my personal life isn’t a cruel sea and that my professional life is thriving. Injecting chaos just to argue in a bar about whether Woody Harrelson was on Cheers isn’t worth losing that peace.

Here’s the story I think about when I wonder if I made the right call:

I was having a bad day. I knew I’d get drunk after work. I had little cash, not enough for Jameson, so I bought a plastic bottle of cheap vodka, a sixer of Talls, and a sixer of White Claws. I drank it all while watching music docs. Still not drunk enough, I cleaned out every stray beer in the fridge and went to the gas station for two magnum-sized tallboys—the ones guys pound after work in parking lots.

Looking back; yeah, that’s a problem.

A year later, the phone rings less, I see fewer people, and that’s fine. I write more. I sleep better.

If you’re thinking about quitting drinking, no one can push you. It’s your call.

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