Navigating Summer Triggers: My Sobriety Story + Toolkit

This past weekend, we packed up the baby, the dog, and enough snacks to survive a small apocalypse, and headed back to my hometown. It had been a while since I’d seen my family, and the visit was filled with sweet reunions, baby giggles, catch-ups, and more warm cheese danishes than I care to admit. It felt good—grounding, nostalgic, familiar in a soft, fuzzy way.

But as we got closer—about three hours on the road from where we live now—something started to shift in me. That weird, quiet sensation I’ve come to recognize—a knot in the chest, a twinge in the stomach. It was like my body remembered before my brain caught up. We passed old gas stations where I used to sneak off and buy mini bottles, rest stops where I would chug alcohol in bathroom stalls like it was water, trying to numb something I couldn’t quite name. The flashbacks came on like muscle memory—uninvited and hard to ignore.

When we arrived, we ended up at the neighborhood pool I practically grew up in. It was the kind of day that begged for a beer—hot, sunny, nostalgic, the scent of sunscreen and chlorine in the air. And sure enough, like some cosmic test, someone near us cracked open a cold beer. It wasn’t even dramatic—it was casual, normal. And still, my brain whispered, “Man, that sounds nice right about now.”

But then I looked up.

My son was splashing around in the kiddie pool, laughing so hard he could barely stand up. My husband was stretched out in the sun, smiling, peaceful in a way I used to think only alcohol could make me feel.

And in that moment, it hit me—this was the feeling I used to chase. The calm, the connection, the contentment. I drank for years trying to force this feeling into existence. But now? It’s mine—real, unfiltered, earned.

So I let the thought pass like a cloud on a breezy day. I leaned back, felt the sun on my face, and whispered a quiet thank you to God—for the life I’ve built, for the healing, and for the gift of sobriety.

Cravings don’t define us. How we respond to them does.

Here are a few sobriety tools I reach for when summer cravings sneak up:

1. Play the tape forward.

It’s easy to romanticize the first sip—cold, crisp, relaxing. But sobriety has taught me to go beyond that instant. I don’t stop the mental movie at the first drink anymore. I hit play and watch the whole reel. That one beer turns into five. The buzz turns into guilt. The night ends in regret, anxiety, maybe even a tearful apology or a broken promise.Sobriety isn’t about denying yourself a good time—it’s about remembering what’s actually true. That “one drink” has never delivered what it promised. Playing the tape forward keeps me anchored in reality, not fantasy.

2. Anchor into your why.

When cravings hit, I ground myself in why I chose this path in the first place. I think of my son’s laughter, my clear mornings, my peace of mind. I remember how it feels to be present in my life—not numbed out or trying to escape it. Your “why” is your foundation. Whether it’s your kids, your health, your future, your freedom—reconnect with it every single time you feel yourself wobble. Your sobriety is not a punishment. It’s a gift you give yourself, over and over again.

3. Change the scene.

Cravings are often not about alcohol—they’re about energy. A buildup of stress, boredom, or overstimulation. When I feel it rising, I do something different. I walk. I stretch. I jump in a cold shower or splash water on my face. I change my environment so I can change my mindset. A craving thrives in stillness and stagnation. So shake it up. Break the loop.

4. Let the thought come… and go.

You’re not failing because the thought appeared. You’re winning because you didn’t act on it. Cravings are like waves—they rise, they peak, and then they pass. Don’t attach shame or panic to them. Just breathe through it. You’ve made it through worse. You’re stronger than a fleeting urge.

5. Stay hydrated, stay fed, stay cool.

Never underestimate how much your nervous system influences your choices. Dehydration, low blood sugar, and overheating can make you feel anxious and emotionally fragile. That’s when the “I deserve a drink” narrative creeps in. Take care of your body like you would a beloved child—nourish it, hydrate it, rest it. Most cravings can be soothed by simple self-care.

Sobriety in summer can be sneaky. The sunshine, the backyard parties, the sound of bottles clinking at the pool—it all feels wrapped in nostalgia and pressure. But here’s the truth: you don’t need a drink to belong. You don’t need alcohol to relax, to celebrate, or to feel joy. You are allowed to take up space at every table, in every moment, just as you are—clear, whole, and unaltered.

Every time you choose not to drink, you’re not just avoiding pain—you’re actively choosing a better future. One that’s rooted in presence, peace, and purpose.

So when cravings come—and they will—meet them with grace, not fear. You’re not broken for having them. You’re brave for facing them. And every time you do, you become even more of the person you were always meant to be.

Your sober summer can be the most vibrant one yet—not because of what you’re missing, but because of everything you’re finally able to feel.

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