January in Boston is bleak. The sun sets before I’ve finished my midday latte, and the black ice on my front stoop has tried to concuss me too many times to count — an experience that sometimes seems preferable to showing up to my 6 p.m. class nursing numb appendages while hiding massive pit stains. The loss of the holiday-season high suddenly hits like a truck, and I can easily get lost in an endless abyss of dark days. Now people are telling me that I should endure all these struggles and abstain from drinking for the entire month? Yes, yes they are. And I am too. Here’s why.
Dry January started as a public health campaign in the early 2010s and has since found its place alongside the usual New Year’s resolutions. The commitment is often prompted by an overindulgent New Year’s Eve, followed by promises made over greasy bagel sandwiches the next morning to never feel that hungover ever again. As more people take on the 31-day challenge, Dry January has become a great reminder to examine drinking patterns and normalize spending time with friends without centering every plan around alcohol, especially in the winter. This year, I decided to look at Dry January through a new lens. It’s not about being “lame” or restrictive; it’s about breaking the cycle of punishing my body and reclaiming the ability to be more present with myself and my friends.
Here’s the reality: working part-time while maintaining the workload of a full-time graduate student is not for the faint of heart, and by the time the weekend arrives, my brain and wallet feel similarly drained. Living in an expensive city like Boston, I’ve found myself saying on more than one occasion, “Well I’m not going to spend $17 on this cocktail if I’m not getting drunk tonight.” The more I said this, the more I realized I was struggling to break the connection between having a simple drink and the need to get sloshed. It almost felt like a business decision — the best bang for my buck. But this “smart” choice was actually costing me more in the long run, both physically and mentally.
I started asking myself why I drank in the first place. Sometimes it was to let loose, clear my head, and have fun with friends. Other times it was because everyone else was doing it and I felt like people would treat me differently if I was the odd one out. And more often than not, it was to forget about the exhaustion or anxiety I carried with me through the week. I noticed how easy it was to turn to alcohol as a way to numb the fatigue of living through consistently “unprecedented times.” I reached for constant stimulation, whether it was music, scrolling, or drinking, because sometimes sitting alone with my thoughts can be uncomfortable. And that’s exactly how alcohol becomes a social crutch.
Both in undergrad and graduate school, I leaned on drinking as a way to loosen up and feel more comfortable around new people. And with every drink, I did feel closer to my friends. But was that a result of the drinking itself, or was it simply creating a false sense of intimacy? I thought stumbling out of a bar together counted as bonding, but if none of us could remember the details the next day, were we actually present? The vulnerable bathroom conversations blurred into hangxiety the next morning, leaving me anxious about what I might have overshared or forgotten entirely.
The truth is, I didn’t meet my best friends while drunk in a dark frat basement. I met them sitting awkwardly at an orientation table when someone had the guts to ask to exchange phone numbers. Alcohol wasn’t the foundation of those friendships, and it doesn’t have to be the direction they’re headed toward now.
The key to Dry January and having a healthier relationship with drinking is learning to be honest. I had to ask myself why I felt embarrassed only having one drink, or skipping the tequila shots. It doesn’t matter how many of my friends are fine waking up at noon on a Sunday morning with Taco Bell wrappers and a trash can by their bed. But if that’s not something I want, every weekend at least, I need to know my limitations, and stop putting my mind and body through that under the pretense that “I’m young, now’s the time!”
For me, knowing my limits looks like setting a general intention for the night. Do I want to be giggly and tipsy? Sip on a glass of red wine with my delicious Italian dinner? Or maybe I just want to sample my friend’s lychee martini. I’ve also learned that there are two ends of the sword when it comes to having an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. If I plan not to drink and end up having one Hugo Spritz, I don’t punish myself with guilt. Beating myself up over a single drink can be just as harmful as a painful hangover. What matters most is that alcohol isn’t controlling me; it’s the other way around.
In 2026, I’m choosing presence and intentionality, with myself, with my friends, and with my relationship with alcohol. I want to casually get a drink with a friend, gossip over some creamy buffalo chicken dip, be in bed by 10:30, and still make it to Pilates the next morning. I also want to celebrate my best friend’s birthday party with a few of her specialty espresso martini shots, my DoorDash order already waiting for me in the cart. There’s a balance. I’m starting to understand that my nights involving alcohol don’t have to look the same just because that’s what I’m used to, or how I think I’m getting my money’s worth.
I used to think some of my best memories were the ones I couldn’t fully remember, but lately I’ve realized they’re the opposite. They’re the ones where I recall how I felt in the moment, the sound of my best friend’s laugh, or the taste of that chocolate mousse. That feels much more fulfilling to me. I’m bringing back craft nights with monthly vision boards made from old magazines, and phone-free movie marathons with a big old bowl of microwave popcorn. As I discover new things about myself, I’m also learning to resist what’s expected of me as a twenty-something student in a new city — and I’m okay with that! This Dry January, or Dry February, or Reduced Alcohol 2026, I’m asking myself: What am I chasing? Why am I chasing that? And is that what I actually want?