Journal Entry from 7 Years Ago: My First Sober Work Event Part 2

I found an old journal entry from seven years ago, and it stopped me in my tracks. Reading it now feels like looking at a different version of myself—a version I know so well, but one I’m so far removed from today.

Here’s a glimpse of what I wrote back then:

I’m here, just like at all the other events, surrounded by the same familiar faces I usually go out with—but tonight feels different. For the first time, I don’t feel the pull. I’m not craving it. Tonight, I see it for what it is. When they ask if I want a drink, I say no without hesitation. I’m in control tonight—not alcohol or anyone else.

It’s a Thursday night, a work event, and my first big test. I’ve tried this so many times before—driving my car as a way to stay accountable, only to end up drinking more than usual and leaving it in a tollway overnight, facing a hefty fine in the morning. Every. Single. Time.

But tonight, I arrived at the event nervous but clear-headed. Normally, by this point, I would’ve already had a couple of drinks to take the edge off. Funny—I never realised how anxious I got about work events until I stopped drinking. Turns out, that’s why I always drank beforehand, just to calm the nerves before mingling.

I found my colleagues by the bar, and naturally, they asked why I wasn’t drinking. I simply said, "I’m taking a night off," and just like that, the conversation moved on. I was actually surprised—no one cared that I wasn’t drinking! It’s funny, isn’t it? You think people care so much about what you’re doing, but they’re too busy with their own stuff.

And honestly, it felt good to say no and know I meant it. I wasn’t counting down the minutes until I could grab a drink. Suddenly, I realised I’d been chatting with a client for 20 minutes—no urge to go to the bar or even take a break. I was fully present. Really present. I could actually hear what my client was saying, respond thoughtfully, and just enjoy the moment without constantly needing to escape.

As the night went on, the music got louder, and people got drunker, but I was still there, fully engaged. I danced, I laughed, and I genuinely had a great time. At some point, I forgot I wasn’t drinking and the only reminder came when someone asked how much I’d had, and I said, "Nothing!"

By midnight, my feet were sore, and I was ready to go. I said my goodbyes, mentioning the early flight I had to catch in the morning, and grabbed a taxi.

The ride home was different too. Usually, I’m slumped in the backseat, hoping the driver doesn’t try to make conversation, overwhelmed by regret as the sun starts to rise. But tonight? None of that. No anxiety gripping me the second I left the bar. I felt calm. I actually enjoyed the silence. No racing thoughts, no shame, no depression waiting for me when I walked through the door.

As I sat there, I thought, Why did I put myself through those nights? What was I so afraid of losing? I used to think that without alcohol, I’d miss out on the deep conversations, the dancing, the full-body laughter. But tonight, I had all of that. Maybe it wasn’t as intense, but I know I’ll remember it tomorrow. And I’ll wake up with no regrets.

Connecting with people has always been a huge part of who I am. It makes me happy, but it’s also left me vulnerable when I’ve let my guard down too much. I used to crave those uninhibited moments, but I’ve paid the price too many times. I’ve woken up regretting things I said or did, seen videos of myself sloppy on the dance floor, cringed at the Monday morning apologies, and dealt with the fallout of being unprofessional.

But tonight, I stayed true to myself. I had fun, I connected, I laughed—and I didn’t lose myself in the process. That’s who I want to be.

Looking back, I can still feel the tension I carried with me in those moments—the fear of missing out, the anxiety of making it through an event sober. But reading this now, seven years later, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come. That moment, that journal entry, marked the beginning of real change for me.

Now, I know that connection, fun, and joy don’t come from a drink. They come from being fully present, and from showing up as the best version of yourself—no regrets, no shame, just you.