People have winced at the idea of me doing Dry January in 2021, saying things like “I don’t think I could get through this without a drink”. Others have met me with a polar opposite response; “you might as well, nothing to drink for anyway”. 

It’s interesting to explore why staying at home can change our drinking habits, making some more or less inclined to drink, and what this can reveal about our personal relationship with alcohol.

Dry January is good for anyone in any year. A month alcohol free is immensely helpful to your health, lowering blood pressure and reducing risks of diabetes. It helps people save money, sleep better and many people say they feel healthier and are able to think more clearly. It also helps with a productive and healthy start to the new year. Alcohol Change UK reports that staying sober for 31 days helps people maintain a healthier relationship with alcohol all year round. Dry January allows people to experience how much better they can feel without alcohol and realise that they don’t need it to have fun.

In 2020, I went into Dry January with far more conscious and purposeful intention than in 2021. I’d been through a month of heavy drinking, had just moved to London and wanted to start the New Year with a clear head, money saved, feeling healthy and generally aim to find my feet in a new and hectic city. 

I was happy I did Dry January in 2020. I found it easier than I thought I would and certainly felt the benefits. I felt more present and aware in social situations and enjoyed how I could remember things that, had I been drinking, I would most likely forget. I was working in a pub at the time, which you’d perhaps imagine might make things harder, but in fact most Friday and Saturday nights were spent at work and I took advantage of the naturally sober days more. Working in the pub made me see how big Dry January was. We’d got an alcohol-free lager on tap and it was super popular. Everyone in the team tried Dry Jan too, though many people broke it half way in.

My biggest challenge doing Dry January in 2020 was going on a sober night out. It only happened once and I still think it was important to try, but it wasn’t enjoyable at all. At the pre-drinks I tried to get ‘in the spirit of drunk’ - an approach that had worked well when I was in a more comfortable casual environment with close friends. I’d get a tonic water or some other drink that replicated an alcoholic one and I didn’t announce to anyone that I wasn’t drinking, I just tried to blend in because I didn’t want people to think I was being boring. But this approach just made me tumble anxiously inward about exactly that. I was self-conscious of how I looked in the horrible UV lights. I was aware of my awkward dancing and felt like I was dragging down the mood. I spent most of the night staring at my watch or the floor, declining offers of shots, avoiding glances of random men and waiting for it to turn 2am – the time I deemed appropriate to ask my friends if we could leave. This experience was not helped by the fact that the club was Popworld.

2021 was a far more passive entry into Dry Jan. I thought I felt some benefits the year before and since we were in lockdown and there were no nights out to drink for, dates to go on or new friends to meet, I felt that I might as well. 

Additionally, I didn’t want to layer the depressive effects of alcohol on top of the depressive effects of lockdown on top of the depressive effects of winter. Growing from my teens into twenties came with a notable change in hangovers. I used to lounge around all day eating pizza, being silly and laughing. At worst I’d throw up. I was warned about deteriorating hangovers as you get older but I dismissed this as just the physical sensation that must be worse. 

But now, I’m 23 and I spend too many hangover days with a racing heart and anxious mind, going over and over my insecurities, the damage alcohol is doing to my body, how I can hardly remember the night before and questioning if it was all worth it. My friends and I know the feeling too well now; the fear, the insecurity, the thoughts that come in your hungover brain. The last time you need these thoughts is when you’re spending yet another cold and grey day at home, feeling isolated and feeling vulnerable.

For me, Dry Jan in 2021 has been infinitely easier than 2020. If anything, it’s been a great thing. I’ve woken up earlier and taken more advantage of the daylight, I’ve felt fitter and it's counteracted the unhealthiness of sedentary days. As a kind of replicant or reward, I've been consuming excessive amounts of pudding to mimic the happy hit of the drinks I haven't had. The puddings strategy might have been working because the alcohol cravings haven’t cropped up at all.

I like the challenge that Dry January presents you with; to observe yourself and notice when and why you crave a drink. The comments from people saying they couldn’t do lockdown without a glass of wine made me curious to question how I’m dealing with things. Specifically, can I handle this without alcohol?

In stressful situations, people can experience an increase in alcohol cravings and consumption as a coping mechanism. This can happen to people with problem drinking tendencies and those without. A survey by Alcohol Change in November 2020 found that “53% of drinkers said they have drunk alcohol for a mental health reason – such as feeling anxious, stressed or worried, feeling bored, having trouble sleeping, or feeling sad or low - at least once in the past six months”. Other studies have revealed links between pandemic-related stress, worries and low emotions and subsequent increases in alcohol uptake. Dry January is a campaign concerned with this cultural problem, that we, as a society, lean on alcohol in times of distress.

Comparing the experiences of Dry January in two very different years makes me realise my relationship to alcohol has navigated itself to one of ‘event drinking’. I’d be far, far more inclined to drink for a celebration or a gathering than just for a Friday night. There are a tonne of negative effects of alcohol that I’d choose to avoid if it's not in favour of a great night out. Hangover anxiety is one of them, throwing up another. Feeling physically unwell while being haunted by thoughts that I’m destroying my body and brain is definitely not my favourite way to spend a Sunday.

Maybe this is a consequence of the monotonous nature of lockdown forcing a kind of self-reflection on consumption, but I’ve also begun to see drinking as a calculation that weighs up benefits against the costs. Be it lockdown or the severity of my hangover emotions; something has really sucked the spontaneity out of my drinking habits.

I enjoy the annual reminder of Dry January that I don’t need alcohol to relax, have fun or socialise. I am grateful to learn that I am able to cope with stressful situations without relying on alcohols helping hand. When the right occasion comes, I will love drinking again. But for now, if nothing else, going sober for a month has been something interesting to do.