Redefining Sobriety on My Own Terms
What is AF Living? AF stands for Alcohol Free… but it also stands for the other AF… As Fuck. AF AF!
Since March 8th, 12:01 AM, 2025, I made the choice that alcohol was no longer a part of my story. We’ll get into that in a bit, but what you need to know is it had to happen then and there. It was a browned-out night, like too many others in recent months.
Phew. I’m struggling to write this. I keep asking myself: what’s too much to share? How do I write this without slipping back into the shame of that night… or any of the other nights that ended the same way? But here’s the thing: if I want to grow, heal, and maybe help someone else, I have to be vulnerable.
So fuck it. Here we go.
That night we pre-drank at home, then pre-drank again at a bar before heading to my best friend’s 40th birthday party. From around 4 p.m. to 11 p.m., it was mostly vodka and gin, with (if I remember right) a shot of Rumple Minze thrown in… all on a nearly empty stomach. Looking back at photos from that night, my face was so swollen… just like in so many pictures over the past five years.
But let’s rewind.
The pandemic wrecked my mental health, and alcohol was my escape. I drank heavily before COVID, but I wasn’t in a complete emotional hole. I was fit, 165 lbs, working out three days a week minimum, but drinking almost nightly under the excuse of some “occasion.” When COVID hit, fear and panic took over, and Tito’s and cranberry became the cure.
That’s when I started realizing I had a problem… but I wasn’t ready to fix it. After what felt like a decade of quarantining, life opened back up, but something in me had shifted. I wasn’t working out anymore. Drinking wasn’t just a social thing, it was daily, event or no event.
The regrets piled up. The rage. The blackouts. The shame. It was crushing. And yet, not as crushing as it used to be… because on that night in March 2025, I finally said enough.
(Side note: as I write this on a plane, I’ve got Jelly Roll’s “Save Me” blasting in my ears. I’m crying. “Something inside of me is broken, I hold on to anything that sets me free, I’m a lost cause, baby don’t waste your time on me, I’m so damaged beyond repair…” That was me. Exactly.)
To be completely honest, that night I thought about what it would be like if I wasn’t here anymore. But deep down, I knew I had too much to live for. And I also knew any damage done was fixable, if I truly made changes and didn’t look back.
The next morning, I spent most of the day in the bathroom—vomiting, crying, praying—knowing with absolute clarity: this is not who I am going to be anymore.
And now, here I am, almost seven months later, ready to put it all out there.
So, who the hell am I?
I’m Brittany. I turned 40 in May. I’m a music lover, travel junkie, auntie, dog mom, sister, daughter, and partner to my other half, Colin, for almost 13 years. We’ve been to over 1,000 concerts, seen nearly 100 artists, traveled the world, and are still growing—sometimes as each other’s mirror, sometimes as each other’s challenger.
I grew up in Quincy, IL—a mid-sized Midwest town, with a family that was anything but stable. My parents divorced when I was 33, and it was, to put it bluntly, a fucking shit show. My dad blamed alcohol for his behavior, but even after sobriety and AA, not a lot changed. He cheated. I caught him. He was arrested once for something I won’t get into here, but it was the straw that broke my mom’s back. She finally filed for divorce.
My mom wasn’t perfect either. She leaned into her religious background in a way that often came across as judgmental—better than me, my sister, sometimes everyone. When my sister came out as gay, her first response was, “You need to go back to church.” She accidently left some annulment paperwork out that I happened upon while I was taking care of her after surgery. Well let’s just say she wrote things I know she wished I hadn’t seen about myself… Our relationships were fractured for sure. But here’s the good news: my mom’s done her own work with both of us, and things have shifted. Her relationship with both my sister and me is better now than it’s ever been.
As for my dad? Not so much, that’s a whole other post. I’m on this journey without his two cents, and it feels so authentic!
My sister, though… she’s my best friend. Always has been. Her and her wife Erika made me an aunt, and Ryanne and Mila have changed my life. Hopefully, a third little one isn’t too far behind.
So yeah. I’m unloading here, but that’s the point.
If you stick around, here’s what you’re in for:
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My go-to NA bevvies 🍹
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Pro travel tips ✈️
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Artists who’ve healed my soul 🎶 (Brandi Carlile, Billy Strings, John Mayer, Jelly Roll… and don’t even get me started on Dead & Co. or Phish—50+ shows and counting, some sober, some a total hot mess)
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Podcasts, affirmation apps, sober resources
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NA-friendly airlines and venues
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Letters to my past self
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Healing childhood wounds
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Big milestones, messy moments, embracing uncertainty
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Going gray gracefully, what grinds my gears, and so much more
So buckle up. We’re in the middle of it now!
XOXO – Brittany Jo