A few months ago, I decided I wanted a sober summer.
Not because I suddenly believed having a drink was wrong. Not because I think your twenties aren’t meant for fun, late nights, or making memories. I just reached a point where I had to ask myself a different question.
Is this helping me become the person I’m trying to be?
For me, the answer was no.
This past year was full of incredible memories. I laughed more than I had in a long time. I met people I never would’ve crossed paths with otherwise. I stepped into parts of life I hadn’t experienced before. I don’t regret living it.
But somewhere between all the noise, I stopped feeling like myself. Not in a dramatic way.
Just quietly.
I slowly drifted from the things that had always grounded me. My routines disappeared. My relationship with God became an afterthought. My health became something I’d “work on later.” I spent more time reacting to life than intentionally living it.
And the strange part was…
Even while I was changing, there was a small part of me that never did. She kept reminding me who I was.
Who I wanted to be.
What mattered.
That’s the thing I’ve realized this summer, this year. You can lose sight of yourself without losing yourself completely. Sometimes your values are still there, waiting patiently for you to come back.
When I say “sober summer,” I don’t just mean alcohol.
I mean becoming aware of everything I reach for that pulls me away from myself. The habits. The distractions. The environments. The endless scrolling. The things that leave me feeling emptier than when I started. Healing isn’t just about removing one thing. It’s about making room for something better.
For me, that’s taking care of my health—not because I owe the world a certain body, but because this is the only one I’ll ever have.
It’s spending quiet mornings with God.
It’s choosing rest over constant stimulation.
It’s remembering that I don’t have to escape my life if I’m building one I actually want to live. The most surprising part of all of this?
I’m still exactly who I thought I was. She never disappeared. She was just waiting for me to come home.
I don’t know what the rest of this summer will look like. I don’t know if I’ll always get it right.
I just know I remember what it feels like to live in alignment with myself. To wake up without feeling like I’m constantly trying to catch up. To take care of my body instead of asking it to keep surviving me. To make choices that the future version of me will thank me for. Maybe, that’s what growing up really is. Not becoming someone completely new.Just becoming more honest about who you’ve been all along.
This summer isn’t about proving anything. It’s about coming home to the version of myself that always felt the most alive. And I think she’s been waiting for me.
Leave a Reply