Sobriety Diary: Week 1—Running into Ghosts

After deciding to commit to 3 months of no alcohol, the universe seemed to have its fun testing me with some notable appearances.

Farewell Aperol

Dates: July 28th-August 3rd

Days Sober: 7

I feel like the universe is testing me. Zurich is small—it’s not hard to run into people you know. But from the many dates I’ve been on this year, I’ve actually been a bit surprised that I haven’t run into anyone. So, it seemed a bit mysterious that the week I decided to commit to sobriety for 3 months,

I ran into not one, not two, but three men from my dating past within 72 hours.

No crisp rosé to dull the moment.

The Decision to Ditch Alcohol for 3 Months

There are many reasons I decided to ditch the booze—reasons I’ll slowly explore as the blog posts progress—but a major reason was feeling an intense need to be crystal clear in my mind as I embark on a massive career change. Ditching my 9–5 took guts, and placing all bets on myself is daunting. I’m still manoeuvring myself out of a burnout, and to fully recover, I know my senses need to be sharp.

I don’t want anyone or anything to rob me of precious energy I should be channeling into my creative projects or my health—and one of my biggest time wasters this year has been dating.

I’ve continuously fallen into shitty situations with men because I’ve had wine goggles on. When I finally meet someone I’m intrigued by and they say “I really do want to see you again” under a Tempranillo haze, I believe them. And I end up waking up with a grotesque hollowness as it dawns on me they fed me whatever line they needed to, to get what they wanted.

It takes me weeks to get over—massive amounts of energy wasted on someone who didn’t deserve it and energy that could have been better invested.

Or, I spend time getting dressed up, bringing my best self to the table, only to sit and extract water from a rock because they have so little to say. Or I end up being their sounding board as they rattle off their list of achievements, tell me how great they are—until the date is over and they haven’t bothered asking me anything meaningful about myself.

I know part of this is my own fault. I should have gotten up and left boring dates. I should have gotten up and left dates where they only show enthusiasm for themselves. I shouldn’t have given away so much energy when I was running low. I shouldn’t have believed wine-induced statements—but at the end of the day, I’m human, I have a deep desire for connection, and I’m learning.

This sobriety chapter is me looking at everyone and everything around me with clear vision—and being extremely stingy with my time and my energy. No more energy vampires, whether romantic or not.

The First Ghost

If this week is anything to go by, I have a feeling the universe is going to dig up parts of my past and make me witness them in some weird real-time play-by-play with sober eyes so I can truly see what was going on.

This Thursday, I went to a Thirsty Thursday event. Usually, the co-working space I’m at (or, was at now that the job is over?) hosts events at one of their locations. But this time, it was at Seebad Enge—a public swimming space in Zurich.

When I arrived, the others for the event still hadn’t. It was largely empty thanks to the spotty weather, so there were plenty of spaces to find—and ample time to notice people. My friend and I got a drink (mocktails for me) and as I scanned the scene, I spotted a man I had been on a date with this year, packing on the PDA with a girl. Great.

It’s not him I want, it’s what he had in that moment: mutual chemistry, someone publicly showing they’re into you, being proud to be seen with you and enjoying the end of summer. It’s ridiculously romantic.

I couldn’t help but reflect that three months on from our date he’d seemingly found love. The touch on the small of her back, their repeated cocktail runs and stolen kisses. A mirror to me that I haven’t—I say that matter-of-factly, not with small violins playing in the background.

Of course, I started reflecting back on my date with him and wondering why I hadn’t been chosen. But then you have to tell yourself, anyone who doesn’t choose you is someone you shouldn’t want to choose either.

Still, I could have gone without the summer love theatrics. Old me would have ordered an Aperol—I asked for the 0.0% gin and tonic instead.

As with many other social events I’ve attended over the past year, I left feeling a deep sense of not belonging. Usually, when I wake up with the emotional hangover, I’ll reason it’s the alcohol amplifying the disappointment—so it was interesting experiencing it sober and realising it’s just as intense of a feeling. There was no residual wine to blame it on. This was me feeling everything clearly and vividly.

The ache was there, even without the influence of alcohol.

I spent all of Friday morning in tears, grieving parts of myself and coming to terms with realities: closing the chapter on my 9–5, embracing sobriety, leaning hard into my creativity, being more open about my life on social media and facing backlash and trolls, the constant drip of disappointment from failed dates and consistently feeling like I haven’t been worthy enough.

Being my own cheerleader, picking myself up over and over and over again and leaving the house with my shoulders square, head held high, reminding myself that I am worthy, manifesting and believing I will achieve all my goals, but also feeling unanchored and afraid of the “but what if I don’t?”.

Many realities can be true at once: you can feel determined to carve out the life you want and believe in yourself, but still have to navigate your insecurities.

It all hit me like a tidal wave.

For good measure, the universe had me pass by ghost number one again later that week.

The Second and Third Ghost

On Saturday, I went to Rundfunk at Zurich’s Landesmuseum. It's a cool live radio festival nestled in the beautiful courtyard of the museum. As darkness descends, a gorgeous light show is displayed. It really is a “vibe,” as I like to say.

My friends and I got drinks and then I spotted another man I’d been on a date with earlier this year. He had ghosted me—never responding to my suggestion to meet again.

Textbook avoidant behaviour, but it hurt nonetheless.

Like my other run-in, it stung. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of embarrassment for being vulnerable and suggesting to meet again, only to be met with silence. Again, I stood surrounded by alcohol, people letting loose as they bonded over rosé, beer, Aperols and wine, and it would have been so easy to soothe my nerves with just a glass of something. Instead, I ordered the non-alcoholic “prickly” rosé and accepted whatever feeling was hitting me.

Next, I spotted a “blast” from my past from four summers ago. He was one of the rare occasions where I was approached in person—and I was extremely flattered.

He was charming, made me smile and feel giddy, and was good at messaging. I hit the town with him and his friends one night and then we went on a date a week later. After that, he continued to message me but made no concrete plans to see me again. He’d toy with me when I was in Zurich (I didn’t live in the city at the time) asking where I was, telling me where he was, but never suggesting to meet.

When he would check in to see where I was later on in the night, I was usually heading home, and he’d say it was a shame because he really wanted to see me. I couldn’t help but feel this was easy to write knowing I was out of the city, and I always felt deeply frustrated and confused by his constant checking in but complete lack of follow-through.

This happened a few times until I had enough of the breadcrumbing and shut it down.

Within 72 hours, I ran into multiple men from my past. 72 hours of what felt like the universe saying: “Are you ready to stop entertaining people like this?” and “Can you handle it without needing to dull your senses?”.

It felt like a wave of bad memories surfacing, and either I could stand my ground and process it with a clear head, or I could use alcohol as a crutch to get past the uncomfortable close encounters.

I stayed out until 3AM and didn’t touch a drop of alcohol—I remained completely present, sipping my mocktails and fully enjoying my girl talk.

A Hard Sobriety Muscle Flex

When I first started cutting down on alcohol a few years ago, my tactic was to stay at home—largely isolating myself because I didn’t want to be around temptation. Slowly though, I was able to go to more events where you’d usually be expected to drink, and I wouldn’t. But as a true wine lover, most of the time I’d join in.

This week though, I proved to myself in spectacular fashion that I can be around alcohol without needing to use it for connection, or relying on it to shine or be more fun.

• On Tuesday, I had a farewell party for a friend. There was alcohol, but I didn’t even feel tempted.

• On Wednesday, it was my farewell drinks at work. I stuck to a sprightly non-alcoholic spritz.

• On Thursday, there was the Thirsty Thursday event. See above.

• On Friday, my mum invited me to a dinner with her friends…they opened Alion, one of my favourite reds. I stayed with my Sansbitter and sparkling water mix.

• On Saturday, I went to Rundfunk. See above.

This isn’t what my schedule usually looks like, but on the rare occasions I have packed weeks, I tend to look ahead and think, ‘Hmm… yeah, there’ll be a lot of booze in my diet this week—oh well.’ But this time, I couldn’t justify caving at all these different events, not when my physical and mental health were already running on empty.

I’d thought about waiting to start my 3-month sobriety stint after my holidays, but my body was clearly asking me to stop now. The last few weeks—especially this final one as I closed the chapter on my 9–5—have been emotionally taxing. I’ve been walking around with clouds behind my eyes and a fog I can’t seem to shake.

While I’ve enjoyed practicing connecting with others without the alcohol, for my introverted self, it’s been too many social events. But they served as a great opportunity for me to prove to myself that I can do this.

Goodbye to Wine Amanda (for now)

I have always been the wine girl—the girl you could count on to drink with you. Over time, wine became synonymous with my name and most of my friends and family know my form of a good time and connection is sharing wine. So, I informed friends and family that this version of me won’t exist for a while.

For the most part, everyone was encouraging and supportive. But some met me with silence—likely grieving that version of me and wondering what it means to connect with sober Amanda.

In just one short week, I’ve learned that I miss the illusion of closeness that alcohol can sometimes create. Sobriety doesn’t numb that ache—it amplifies it. But it also makes it harder to lie to myself about who can actually offer it. Though something tells me that without the presence of alcohol, I might be about to make some of my deepest connections yet.

I know I’ll hit days where I’ll want to cave. Where I’ll want to join. But I hope I won’t—that I’ll honour this commitment to myself.

Maybe I’ll get to the end of the 3 months and want to continue, maybe I’ll go back but with a renewed relationship to alcohol.

But for now, I choose clarity. And I’m excited about that.

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