Essay Link Copied 12.09.24

I’ll Be Sober for Christmas

This is how I do the holidays without drinking and have a better time than ever. ByWill Ganss

Sutterstock / Wondermind

Let me start by saying that I really love the holiday season. We’re talking Mariah-Carey levels of yuletide devotion here. Not that you’re asking, but here are some quick Christmas credentials for you: 

• I have flown across the country to visit the world’s largest ugly Christmas sweater (big enough for the Statue of Liberty to wear). Yes, I climbed inside of it.
• I’ve worn a Buddy the Elf costume atop the Empire State Building.
• I live in a typically tiny New York City apartment, but I’m rocking around two full-sized Christmas trees in my living room this time of the year. 
• I’ve traveled to Santa Claus, Indiana for the sole purpose of telling you that I’ve traveled to Santa Claus, Indiana. 

So I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I thought I had achieved peak Christmas spirit. Like the Claus-o-meter on Santa’s sleigh (See: the last five minutes of Elf), there was simply no way for my world to get more twinkly, more jingly, or more jolly. 

But, ho-ho-hold up. Turns out, I was wrong. A few years ago, I unwrapped the gift of sobriety, put alcohol on the naughty list, and suddenly the entire holiday season hit a new level of tinsel-tinged love-fest, one I assumed only happened to George Bailey on the silver screen. 

But ditching the drink this time of year is no reindeer game. It’s tough work. While most of us can do Dry January, especially after the celebrations have worn us out, the holidays are a fizzy-fueled, boozy, bubbly affair. 

Exhibit A: During my first Thanksgiving home as a sober person, my dad cracked open a gorgeous bottle of wine and hosted a mini-tasting at the dinner table. My newly sober fingers gripped a can of LaCroix with the intensity of the Grinch lugging all of the Christmas crap up Mount Crumpit. And yet, I made it through that dinner… and several holiday seasons since.

In my opinion, sobriety during the holidays is a lot like the end of Home Alone. After planes, pains, and automobile rides with the Polka King of the Midwest, there’s nothing like returning home to yourself, to your family, and to the season that makes life a little more sparkly. Sure, there’s always a Wet Bandit or two ready to throw you off, but with enough preparation, you’ll defend your sobriety the way Kevin has the McAllister house on lockdown (no swinging paint cans required).

Here are the biggest lessons I’ve learned about spending the holidays sober. Please enjoy this list, I’ve checked it twice.

1. Being sober helps me focus on the good stuff.

I understand why drinking this time of the year escalates. We’re feeling festive, we’re feeling flirty, we’re blunting the painfully awkward small talk with extended family, the list could go on forever. 

But in sobriety, I’ve learned I can experience all the best parts of the season more fully: the closeness to family and friends, the ability to express my love for them, the peace of cold winter nights I crave all year long, the levity of an ugly sweater party without crushing hangxiety. The nostalgia of all this, which meant so much to me as a kid, feels like a gift in itself. 

Don’t get me wrong. Deleting the alcohol also means raw dogging all the tough parts too. There’s no trap door to exit an awkward conversation with your uncle. There’s no numbing the feeling of grief that pops up when you take stock of the loved ones who are no longer with us around the holidays. But when there’s nothing between you and the magic of the season, you’re bound to feel so much more of the good stuff too.

2. Nonalcoholic liquid courage gets the job done.

OK, this might be obvious, but if I’m going to a work holiday party, a college friend’s ugly sweater get-together, or whatever, keeping a beverage in my hand at all times throughout the event serves many purposes.

Sure, an emotional support bevvie whilst sober keeps people from asking if I need a drink. But it has other secret powers, especially at a holiday shindig. You can take a sip when there’s a lull in the conversation or use it as an excuse to leave a boring one (“I’m gonna go get a refill!”). You can use it for toasts and holiday hear-hearing. You’ll feel included, ready to participate in festivities, and less physically awkward (“I don’t know what to do with my hands!”). What can’t she do?

3. There’s always a vibe shift.

There’s that moment in every holiday party when the vibe shifts. It’s usually subtle. Someone starts repeating a story they told you an hour ago. Someone’s hand lingers a little too long after a hug. Someone else starts crying. That’s when I make like Kevin McAllister and go Home Alone. 

The holidays are already an exhausting season, and our shiny, sober selves don’t need the added strain of witnessing Deb from accounting barf up eggnog at the holiday party. When I get the sense that things are taking a turn, here are my excuses to jet:

• I’m taking photos for my holiday card tomorrow, and I want to look fresh.
• I’m volunteering in the morning, so I gotta appear charitable and fresh-faced bright and early.
• Family is coming into town—and I don’t want to host them hungover.
• I’m a grown man, and I don’t need to explain myself to you, Ted. 

4. No party is more important than my mental and physical health.

As someone who spent a majority of my late 20s and early 30s single, I have felt especially uncomfortable in rooms where everyone else is coupled up. Those feelings of insecurity can easily turn into whispers of, Grab a drink. It’ll help relax you. Those were the parties I skipped—even the holiday ones.

Doing holiday events in an election year is also triggering. For example, I have extended family members who are on the opposite side of the political spectrum from me. While some of them can delicately acknowledge that, others cannot. Over the last couple of years, I’ve learned that it’s not worth risking my sobriety for a gift exchange with relatives who want to convince me that my views about my own humanity are incorrect. Instead, I send my regrets and a lovely basket of peppermint bark. 

My takeaway here is that not everyone deserves access to me—especially if they’re going to jeopardize this commitment I’ve made to my health this holiday season. To quote the Grinch, “6:30. Dinner with me. I can’t cancel that again!”

5. Non-drinking activities create nostalgic memories.

Traditionally, the holidays are a time to sit around, yap, and drink. So I have found that planning activities that don’t revolve around drinking is a great way to start new traditions that make me feel nostalgic for years to come. 

Last year, my parents, brother, and I did an escape room together over the winter break, and we still talk about the fun we had. There’s another tradition we’ve incorporated called The Peppermint Pig. We buy a pig literally made of peppermint about the size of a TV remote, and take turns sharing a favorite memory of the year gone by. After that, we take a tiny hammer and crack the pig. Once we’re all caught up on the moments that meant the most to us over the last year, we’ve got bite-sized pieces of peppermint to share. We’ve also become partial to games like Loaded Questions, Code Names, or card games like Five Crowns and Pass The Trash. 

Since getting sober, I was surprised at how rewarding it is to spend time with my family outside of just drinking and yapping. Because this time of year is steeped in tradition, it’s lovely to look back at photos and remind myself of all the fun we had and all the special memories we created that have nothing to do with booze. For me, it’s comparable to reflecting on my childhood Christmases, but even more gratifying because I had a hand in making these memories happen. 

6. Releasing the relationships that aren’t working is a gift to myself.

I assumed that, when I stopped drinking, each of my friendships, relationships, and acquaintanceships would magically improve without the blurred lines that come with a couple vodka cranberries. And my good friendships did level up. I was able to show up as a better friend, son, brother, boyfriend, whatever. But those wobbly relationships, especially the ones centered on drinking together, sort of faded. 

This time of year, embracing that fact can feel like a big relief. It clears space on my social calendar and makes room for people who are aligned with my values now. You don’t realize how stressful a forced friendship is until you let it go. 

7. I’m so proud of everyone else on this journey too.

As we settle into my very favorite season of the year, here’s to you, my sweet, sober snowman or snowwoman. Reach out to a fellow non-drinker if you have any questions or need any support. Whatever your reason for taking a little break (or a forever break) from drinking, I’m proud of you for deciding to upgrade your life in this way. You can do it!