There’s a moment—usually mid-hangover, face-down on the sofa, scrolling through blurry videos from the night before—when you think: I cannot keep doing this. It might hit you after your third consecutive Sunday of shame, or when someone calls a vodka-cran “your drink” and you feel… judged by your own reputation.

So you start cutting down. Not full-on monk mode, just less. Less booze. Fewer nights out. More awareness of your own liver.

And mate, it’s weird at first.

Step One: You Become Aware of Time

You don’t realise how much time you lose to drinking until you stop orbiting every weekend around it. Suddenly, Friday night hits and instead of bolting to the pub like a thirsty meerkat, you’re… home. Awake. Wondering what to do with your hands.

By Sunday, you haven’t lost 48 hours to hangxiety and takeaway regret. You’ve maybe done laundry. Cooked. It’s like gaining a secret bonus life.

Step Two: The Social Shift (a.k.a. “Who Am I Without a Pint?”)

You go out and order a soda. People look at you like you’ve just said you’re moving to the woods to churn your own butter. “Are you okay?” “Are you pregnant?” “Have you found God?”

No. You just don’t want to wake up tomorrow feeling like someone’s left a hot radiator inside your skull.

Some mates won’t get it. Others will quietly say, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about cutting back too.” And boom—real conversations. No shouting over club speakers, no waking up with vague guilt and three new people added on Instagram you’ll never speak to again.

Step Three: Your Body Says Thanks (Eventually)

At first? You’re knackered. Sugar cravings. Boredom. Existential dread. You’re suddenly aware of emotions that you used to gently drown with gin. But give it a few weeks—and suddenly you’re sleeping like an actual human. Your skin clears up. Your eyes stop doing that weird puffy thing. You start getting smug about your 9am walks.

And hangovers? When you do drink? You’re reminded why you stopped. One night out hits like you’ve been run over by the year 2016.

Step Four: You Feel… Stuff

Turns out, alcohol is great at muting things—stress, sadness, boredom, even joy. When you reduce it, everything gets a little louder. You start to feel. It’s not always fun. Sometimes it’s lonely. Sometimes you realise you’ve been numbing something deeper. But once you sit with it (without trying to drown it in pints), it passes. And what’s left is real. You get better at handling life instead of hiding from it.

Final Boss: You Discover You’re Still Fun

You thought you’d be boring, didn’t you? Turns out, you’re still funny. Still quick. Still you. Just more aware. Maybe a bit more introverted, or a bit more selective about who you spend time with. But the laughs still come—just without the 2am shame spirals and 24-hour Uber Eats bills.

So no, cutting back isn’t some dramatic personality transplant. You’re not becoming a self-help robot or a kale evangelist. You’re just giving yourself a chance to feel better, live a bit clearer, and maybe remember your nights out instead of piecing them together via group chats.

Drink less. Live more. Or at the very least, stop throwing up in Uber rides. That’s growth.