Unnumbed: Reflections on Unexpected Sobriety

I haven’t had a drink in two years.

If my drinking career were a line chart, it would start high as a teenager, level out in my 30s and 40s, and in my 50s, it would spike again—where a few drinks were never enough.

For years, I told myself I had it together. Happily married with kids. A good job. Decent health. No one ever got on my case. There were no obvious consequences to my drinking.

On the inside, though, I was in turmoil.

Alcohol had through the years slowly become a numbing agent. Figuring out what I was numbing will continue to be a work in progress.

Most of my drinking happened over Shabbat, starting Friday afternoon and continuing at Kiddush the next morning. Shabbat and holidays were a perfect storm—no need to drive, food and drink in abundance, and expectations I set for myself were low. I just had to show up and not make a complete jack— out of myself.

I’d wake up on Shabbat morning feeling guilt and shame about the night before—not to mention hungover, dehydrated, and drained—only to be back at it by 11 a.m. 

I never spoke to anyone, not even my wife, about how drinking was affecting me. I was too embarrassed to admit that something was off or that I might have a problem. Instead, I turned to the internet, Googling “alcoholism,” “alcohol dependency,” and “addiction.” According to my searches, I was fine. Plenty of people were worse off than me.

Looking back, if I had to ask the internet whether I had a drinking problem, I probably did.

Alcoholism and addiction run on both sides of my family, including my late mother, who hit an awful rock bottom. She got help and was proudly sober for the last 25 years of her life.

But I thought I was somehow different—immune to alcohol’s grip.

Then, on Purim afternoon in 2023, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was drunk, but not in that fun way you get on Purim. I wasn’t dancing ecstatically, having deep conversations, or experiencing a spiritual high. Honestly, I felt empty and kind of bored. And disappointed – because really, I was looking to alcohol for answers, and it wasn’t delivering for me. I went home early, crawled up on the couch and started to think:

Was alcohol serving me, or was I serving it? I didn’t know how but something had to change.

I decided to take a break from alcohol—not quit forever, just for one Shabbat, something I’d never been able to do. Then I’d see what would happen. One Shabbat led to a week. A week became 30 days. Then another 30. And here I am today.

During that time, I took a hard look at my drinking. What was I getting out of it? Other than it being the force of habit and a solution to FOMO, not much. The downsides far outweighed any benefits. Frankly, it had stopped being fun. It drained my time, my energy, and my emotional bandwidth. I also knew it was only a matter of time before the way I was drinking caught up with my health.

Once I stopped, my Shabbat mornings felt different—almost jubilant, like a weight had been lifted. I was more present for my wife and kids. And, for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of inner peace.

Quitting drinking was one of the best and most important decisions I’ve ever made. Here are a few reasons why:

• I’ve learned to accept myself as I am.
• I trust myself—what I say and do is authentically me.
• I respond instead of react.
• My connections with family and friends are deeper.
• I sleep better. Much better.
• Losing 10 pounds and saving thousands of shekels per year is gravy on top.

With Purim coming up, I’m still figuring out where I fit in the craziness of the holiday. But I look forward to facing it—fully present—without my old friends Jack and Jim.