12 Ounces of Control

Jul 21

The Setup: What I Thought I Was Getting

Alcohol gave me everything I thought I needed.

It smoothed my anxiety. Muted my depression. Let me be social. Helped me get on stage. Made me believe I was “okay” enough to function.

Or at least… I thought it did.

I wasn’t drinking to fall apart.

I was drinking to hold it together.

But somewhere along the way, those 12 ounces of confidence started pouring out more than they were filling up.

The Illusion of Control

I spent years convinced I had it under control.

Anytime that quiet voice popped in — “Maybe this is too much…” — I had a ready response:

“You’re not drinking because you have to. You’re drinking because you want to.”

I made up rules to feel in charge:

No drinking on “school” nights.
Never two days in a row.
Wait until after 5.
Count your drinks.

I was always writing and rewriting the playbook.

But the truth? The rules weren’t for my health — they were just alibis for my denial.

I told myself I was moderating. I told myself I could stop anytime.

But I never actually stopped. And deep down, I knew why.

When the Cracks Started Showing

One weekend in October 2023, we met a bunch of friends in Charleston. It was supposed to be this amazing time — laughs, drinks, connection.

Instead, I drove home hungover, empty, and full of regret.

I had zero memories of the Halloween party I was so excited about. Just silence. Just a headache. Just shame.

I told myself:

“That’s it. I’m not drinking next weekend at Disney. Taking a break.”

And I meant it. Until I got there.

Because I didn’t know how to do Disney without drinking. I didn’t know how to do anything without drinking.

And by the time I got home… I was right back where I started.

What Real Control Feels Like Now

Sobriety hasn’t made me a superhero.

It hasn’t wrapped my life in ease and clarity and boundless confidence.

Honestly? It’s messy.

But you know what? It’s consistent.

For the first time in a long time, I wake up as the same version of me I went to bed with.

No guessing. No panic-scrolling texts. No wondering what I said or how I came off or who I disappointed.

That’s control.

Not over everything. But over myself.

And I’ll take that over 12 ounces of false confidence any day.

The Things I Thought I Needed It For

I thought I needed alcohol to manage:

Anxiety
Depression
Social awkwardness
Stage presence
Parenthood
Even just… existing in my own head

But I’ve found other ways now.

Walking the dogs. Making Rhonda coffee every morning. Writing. Music.

Okay — social stuff is still tough sometimes.

But at least now when I feel out of place, I’m aware. I can work through it. I don’t have to mask it with another round.

What I’d Say to the Old Me Holding That Beer

“You are dead wrong. You don’t have sh*t.”

That sounds harsh.

But I had lost control. Now I was being controlled.

And the saddest part? I didn’t even realize it.

Lyric Drop

“So persistent, don't forget this, hold the tension, soul is bending
No pretending, open ended, low percentage, so demented.”

— NF, “Leave Me Alone”

That line? That was me.

On repeat.

Write Your Own Song

If you’re in that place — rewriting the rules every week, counting drinks, swearing you’ll do better “next time” — you’re not alone.

But here’s the deal: moderation isn’t proof of control.

It’s often just a softer form of surrender.

Try this:

List the “rules” you’ve made around your drinking.
Ask yourself — did you make those to stay safe? Or to stay comfortable?
What would actual control look like in your life right now?

You might not have to hit bottom to find clarity.

Sometimes it starts with realizing the drink in your hand is holding more power than you are.

Jeremy Stein