Not drinking for a month seems simple. It isn’t for me. Now there are real consequences.
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Dear A.J.,
After last year’s try didn’t work, this is my second attempt at a Dry January. I lasted until just a week before the month ended before I drank again and regretted it, but didn’t try to do it again for the rest of the year.
This year, I really want to stick with it. How do I make it through this month without caving? I have at least one birthday party and happy hour with friends already planned, and I can already tell it’s going to be hard to push past those nights. At home in my space, it’s easier to control. But I know I need to do this. My doctor has recently put some things into perspective, and I have to do this for my health.
—This Time It’ll Work
Dear This Time It’ll Work,
People use January as a month to feel great about themselves, full of self-love, and to indulge in well-meaning reflections. As dawn breaks on Jan. 1, everyone rushes to give it their all on Day One: Signing up for Strava, booking yoga retreats in Cambodia, jumping into a freezing-cold ocean—renewal!
Recently, though, we’ve all grown more self-aware about the ways we set ourselves up to fail. There are commercials reminding us that most people give up on their resolutions by Jan. 9, and that day, in itself, has landed a spot on the unofficial holiday calendar: “Quitter’s Day,” a daylong celebration to help stave off the shame spiral of giving up on your resolutions. (I’m in full support of lessening shame, but I feel like this is only summoning the most devious of corporations from their lairs. I mean—come on, Denny’s! I love me some “Moons Over My Hammy” as much as the next guy, but we expect better from you.)
But let’s get to you, TTIWW—and the many others—attempting “Dry January” this year. For a primer on Dry January’s origin story, this is a great place to start. But here’s the short version: Beginning Jan. 1, you commit to not drinking alcohol for the full 31 days of the month. Even for this brief period, the research shows major health benefits: better mood and sleep, weight loss, and even, in some cases, healthier blood pressure. However, there’s the other unsexy, less Goop-ified part people are afraid to look at: Will they find out that their drinking is more problematic and be forced to make some serious lifestyle changes they do not want to make?
I sense this is your predicament, since you’ve admitted that you crashed out with one week to go last January and are already anxious about “one birthday party and happy hour with friends” on the 2026 calendar this month. (If you’ve made it this far into the month, though, congrats—you’re already halfway there.) Clearly establishing your goals by making a distinction between abstinence and “sober,” and untangling the two, might help.
You can abstain from drinking this month, get the glow-up, and cruise into Feb. 1 with a glass of Champagne, acknowledging a job well done. It’s a huge achievement and should be celebrated. However, if you want to take this a step further, and stretch it out a few more months or possibly forever, you need a different approach. If you’ve got a gnawing sense that you need to treat your drinking more seriously, then you should take your drinking more seriously. Your doctor certainly does.
The best thing you can do this January, for starters, is not go to the birthday party and happy hour you have on the calendar this month. Stay home! Build yourself a little compound with all your comfort shows and your comfort foods. Or attend the late-night boxing class at Barry’s Bootcamp. Do something different.
A.J. Daulerio
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I got sober by spending almost two months in a rehab facility, paid for by my medical insurance. Maybe that sounds right to you. If this is the route you want to go, figure out if you need a medical detox beforehand, and then do some serious research to figure out the kind of facility you want to stay at. After my rehab stint, I stayed sober by combining abstinence with Alcoholics Anonymous and therapy. I didn’t just want to be “dry,” which is widely defined as still demonstrating the alcoholic behaviors without the drink. (Meaning: You can still be an asshole even without a drink.) So I’m an alcoholic, and I walk through the world presenting as an alcoholic who’s allergic to drinking, and I recognize my life is much better without drinking.
It never stops—every single day, I practice some method of sobriety to stay sober. It is a slog, but a joyful one once you get the hang of it.
Being more honest about your drinking with the people in your life may help all of this feel less daunting, too. Talk to friends who are in recovery—or friends of friends—and share openly about why it’s so hard for you to not drink for a month. I guarantee you, if they’ve been through this, they will gamely volunteer to be the support system you need in the early stages of recovery.
But it’s also OK if you’re not ready to be sober. This major life change is not an overnight process. You don’t have to do this in January, either. If you bail on Jan. 24, you don’t have to wait a full calendar year to try again. You can start all over again the very next day if you want. Do it on your timeline, but make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.
