Writing Without Wine — Swapping the Sauvignon for More Clarity, Creativity, and Intuition

“The last glass.”

I had my last glass of wine on January 6, 2024.

That date wasn’t significant, and I had to look at the date on my phone to remember. It happened to be when I ran out and intentionally didn’t buy more. 

“The last glass” was a few days before traveling for a hockey tournament weekend with my son. At many of these tournaments, you’ll usually find the parents drinking in the parking lot between games. But don’t worry, if they run out during the game, most arenas have a bar. Or, they just keep beer and booze in their cars so that they can fill their Yetis between periods. I knew I’d be around a lot of drinking, but it didn’t bother me. Since ice arenas are so frigid in Florida, I always have hot tea to warm me up from the inside.

Running out of wine was a planned event. I was also pausing on the prosecco to go all in on clearing candida. A cleanse that involved no sugar, fermented foods, or alcohol.

There was only one challenging moment that first weekend after a stressful experience when I wanted to crawl under the hotel comforter with a glass of wine. Other than that, I didn’t even think about it. I drank my magnesium, had a bite of dark chocolate, and went to sleep. 

Did I even enjoy this last glass of wine?

I have no clue. While I appreciated my hunk of fair-trade, organic dark chocolate with my cabernet, something about the wine wasn’t vibing with me anymore. It hadn’t been for months. Something told me to take a picture of the empty glass, though, because I might want to look back at it later. 

That time is now. 

I wasn’t even sure when the “right” time to write this article would be. I had a sense I’d write something about it, hence the photo.

• Do people talk about not drinking after not drinking for a week, a month, or three months?

• When’s the appropriate amount of time to write about it? 

• Should I wait a whole year to mark the occasion?

A client of mine, also recently sober curious, held an intimate masterclass about this topic. As I supported her with the promo messaging, I knew I needed to be there, too, so I signed up. I didn’t really think about what I was doing as “sobriety” — it was just “not drinking.” Weird, the labels society wants us to use.

During the 90-day candida cleanse (I think that’s how long it was, I lost track), there was only one time where I wanted to pour myself a glass and settle into the couch. It was the first Friday night on the detox protocol. 

It was Friday night, after all. I deserved a glass of wine. I earned it. And let’s not forget the chocolate. Oh, shit. Can’t have that right now on account of no sugar. I made myself a rose cacao latte and sweetened it with stevia.

I lost count of how many times I told myself the line that I deserved it.

Rough day at work (back in my corporate days — those days don’t exist in my business now), have some wine.

Finish a big writing project, celebrate with bubbles.

Unwind from a tournament — wine on the couch of course.

I realized how strong a habit it was. Without even thinking, after dinner, you’d find me gabbing a stemless glass and uncorking a bottle. How’d that wine get in there?

Pass the Pellegrino!

In the early days of my writing business (circa 2015), wine was very much integrated into my branding personality. It was a part of my life. 

Branding shoot 2016. “No, Jacq. Wine doesn’t make you a better writer.”

I had grapey innuendos throughout this website and even weaved them into one of my first copywriting price lists. 

You could sign up for just a sample glass (a round of edits) or the whole winery (copywriting for an entire website). 

Actually ginger tea in that glass. It was December in New Jersey. I still 💙 the Leafs though :)

I loved wine. 

I loved wine in the way that people love their sports cars, fine art, or going on a sunny tropical vacation. Growing up with winemakers in the family, my grandfather made it in Portugal from the stomping grapes with your feet days, and wine was a fixture at dinner. It was an expected guest at the table. It wasn’t taboo or weird. It was just there, next to the water. At around 10 years old, it was normal to have a small glass of wine with dinner. Never more than one, and never those ginormous fishbowl glasses.

Sure, there were times in my 20s when I overindulged occasionally, but mostly, I preferred to be the designated driver and leave the bar way before the last call to get enough sleep. Other than enjoying a good glass of cabernet or prosecco on a sunny summer day, I didn’t really drink.

I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a hangover. I figured I didn’t drink that much, so it wasn’t really a problem.

So it’s not like I poured my last glass thinking that I was an addict, but I did have a habit. My habit looked like a few nights a week, usually weekends, and when out for a meal. It wasn’t contributing to my health (as much as some people will try to tell you — and I willingly believed).

Clearing candida changed everything, though.

When I stopped, I didn’t think about not going back. I figured I’d change my relationship with it and maybe have an occasional glass. 

After the candida cleanse, my tastes changed — I stopped wanting it. 

Sure, I had seen the social media posts about the research and read about it in books.

Wine isn’t a health food.

Even one drink is terrible for your health — it wrecks your gut and kills brain cells. I’ve always been curious about psychology and what makes people tick, and after a family scare a few years back, I started reading more about how to protect my brain and my kids’ brains. 

Then, there are the spiritual aspects that open you up to entity attachments when you're under the influence of alcohol. You might like The Unquiet Dead.

Alcohol doesn’t fit into my picture of health anymore. 

“Stop trying to be a great writer,” they advised me next. “That’s your ego. Get your ego out of your writing. You should be writing from a spirit of service. You are just the vehicle, the channel. Let God write through you.” Julia Cameron on writing sober.

Only when consciously setting down the stemless glass did I start to notice society's odd relationships with drinking. 

“I thought drinking and drugs enabled my creativity.” Julia Cameron

And my own weirdness, too. That, I can control.

Someone hosting a party asks me, “What kind of wine do you drink?”

I stumbled at first. 

“I don’t drink… anymore.” 

“I’m not drinking … right now.”

“I don't drink.” (But what if I do again someday?)

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

My answer: “Sparkling water.”

Part of me wanted to continue and say, “But not Perrier or Topo Chico,” but I held back.

What response was appropriate here? Why was this so weird?

I found it odd how not drinking alcohol is the one choice we feel compelled to justify. Like, I don't need to clarify why I don’t smoke weed or crack or snort coke. It’s kinda fucked up.

And then the follow-up questions I get after those initial interactions…

“Are you still not drinking?”

“You’re not drinking right now, right?”

“Are you ever going to have a drink again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want one now, though.”

That’s enough.

Clearing candida has been nothing short of life-changing. Yes, glowing skin, better digestion, and clearer thinking. I mean… isn’t that enough?

Candida is a yeast overgrowth that’s fed by sugar, stress, birth control pills, the standard American (SAD) diet, processed bread, and alcohol. The latter was the only thing I’d been consuming in years, having been plant-based on and off for 14 years.

I didn’t realize that by clearing Candida, you also clear the cravings — for both sugar and cabernet.

The unexpected benefit of having no desire to drink alcohol anymore is stronger intuition — it’s as if the volume and brightness are dialed way up on my life expeience. It’s like finally cleaning your windshield after accumulating three months of bug debris.

There was a barrier there before that’s gone now.

I was co-creating… 

• With too much processed food

• With candida

• With wine

I didn’t write while having wine. I was able to write plenty with this occasional wine habit. Honestly, it almost felt indulgent to write this piece, but I continued writing it anyway. My gut tells me there may be someone reading examining their relationship with an unhealthy habit, too.

If you’re looking for some sound voices on sobriety, check out these resources:

• Mahina Keala, Sobriety Life and Nutrition Coach

• Malana Hokulani’s story in Healing Your Wounds for Better Writing

• Here’s the candida cleanse I did — 10/10 recommend