The Joy Drop: January 2025

Congrats on making it to the last day of January! 

For me, it also marks the end of my first-ever Dry January—a little experiment I didn’t tell anyone about until now. Real talk: I didn’t want anyone holding me accountable, and I don’t care for the discourse around Dry January. It was just something I wanted to try for myself—and I did it. And honestly? I think I’ll keep it going.

My main inspiration was my dad, though the surgeon general's warning on January 3rd didn’t hurt either. For at least the last 20 years, my dad has stopped drinking from January 1 to June 1—except for a celebratory drink on his birthday in May. He’s incredibly disciplined, and I really admire that about him, even though he loves his Ketel One vodka. I always joke that he tries to make up for it during the rest of the year.

 I’ve never been a big drinker. Growing up, my parents had alcohol in the house—I saw them drink and host parties. It was never framed as “forbidden,” but it still didn’t interest me. My lack of interest in drinking also stems from my history with anxiety. I don’t like feeling out of control—it makes me incredibly anxious, and the loss of control that comes with being drunk never appealed to me. 

 During my peak party years in my mid-twenties, when I went out every weekend, stayed out at Brooklyn raves until 7 a.m., and had friends who drank much more than me and dabbled in drugs, I always knew my limits, and I was okay with them being different from those around me. I could enjoy myself being comfortably buzzed and I was also completely fine with going out and not drinking at all sometimes. 

I actually thought I was going to stop drinking back in 2020 when COVID lockdowns started. I was never one to drink alone, so while I was locked down in my East Village studio, it was easy to imagine phasing alcohol out of my life. But then I moved back home to my parents' house by April that year, and, well—maybe the stress of being around them sometimes drove me to ease my nerves regularly with a White Claw or two. Was it just me, or was the summer of 2020 the summer of White Claw? 

 Eventually, I moved on from the White Claws, and back to my whiskey. I've been a whiskey drinker since before the pandemic, and while I usually only have one (on the rocks, please!), I found myself wanting a drink multiple times a week. It wasn’t a destructive habit, but it was starting to feel like a habit nonetheless. 

 I love how normal it’s become not to drink alcohol in the last few years now—because throughout my twenties from college to New York City days, I often got questions and comments like…

“Why don’t you drink?”

“You’re no ‘fun’”

“I feel weird drinking around you if you’re not drinking.” 

One thing about me: peer pressure has never worked—and it never will. The more people try to convince me to do something I wasn’t interested in, all in the name of “letting loose” or “having fun” (aka their idea of fun), the more it made me dig my heels in. But most importantly, I don’t like how alcohol makes me feel the next day, especially now that I’m in my late thirties. It ruins my skin, messes with my sleep (and my Oura ring proved that), and wreaks havoc on my sensitive digestive system. At this stage of life, the trade-off just isn’t worth it.

Somehow, I was still a bit surprised by my own conviction though to get through this month. Swapping my whiskey habit for Aplos chili margarita, certainly helped me get through though. It's light, fresh, and tangy! They also have other flavors. Obviously, the non-acoholic drinks category has expanded massively in the last few years and will only continue to grow and I'm happy to support this movement.

My best buy:  I’m cheating a little because I bought these Bombas slippers from an Instagram ad (they finally got me!) in December as Christmas gifts for my parents. My mom decided she didn’t want hers—she prefers slippers with a structured sole—so I kept them for myself, and I’ve been living in them since Christmas Day. They’re so cozy and have gotten me through a truly frigid month. I don’t leave my bedroom without them. My dad lives in his too! I might need to get another pair to keep in London.