Newsletter Monday
Hello Reader,
We’re half way through January, so if you’re reading this thinking “bit late to start Dry January” - you’re absolutely right.
This isn’t a rallying cry or a last-minute recruitment drive.
I’m more interested in the question Dry January keeps raising every year:
Is it a fad… or is it quietly useful?
Where did Dry January even come from?
Dry January started just over a decade ago as a public health campaign.
No products. No detox kits. No moral language.
Just an invitation to take a month off alcohol and notice what happens.
Word spread in a very unglamorous way: people talked. Friends compared notes. Colleagues realised they slept better. Others realised how socially embedded alcohol really is.
It didn’t grow because it was aspirational - it grew because it was relatable.
And importantly, it wasn’t framed as “good people do this” and “bad people don’t”.
Why does it divide opinion so much?
Every year I notice two strong reactions.
Some people feel drawn to it.
Others recoil from it.
That alone is interesting.
For some, a break feels like relief - a pause button after December, which in this country is basically one long alcohol advert disguised as festive cheer.
For others, it feels joyless, preachy, or unnecessary.
And both reactions make sense.
Alcohol sits at a strange crossroads of:
- habit
- identity
- stress relief
- social glue
So any suggestion of stepping back from it can feel oddly personal.
What does the data say now we’ve had over a decade to look?
When you strip away the nonsense language — detox, cleanse, reset — the actual data is fairly modest and refreshingly boring.
A month without alcohol is associated with:
- better sleep
- improved mood and energy
- lower blood pressure in some people
- fewer “auto-pilot” drinking habits
Not miracles. Not transformations. Just signals.
What’s more interesting is that many people who try it don’t bounce straight back to old patterns afterwards.
Not because they’ve been “fixed”, but because awareness changes behaviour.
That’s the bit that matters.
A quick word on December
It’s also worth saying this out loud: December can be a very difficult time for people who already have a complicated relationship with alcohol.
The messaging is relentless.
The social pressure is real.
And opting out often requires explanation, justification, or humour to make other people comfortable.
Dry January, for some, isn’t about health optimisation at all — it’s about relief.
There is no moral judgement here. None.
Alcohol problems don’t arise because people lack willpower or insight — and abstaining for a month doesn’t place anyone on a higher plane of virtue.
Where I’ve landed personally
I’ve mentioned this before, but for context: I’ve been drinking less and less over the last decade.
Not deliberately at first — it just happened.
At some point, alcohol stopped doing anything positive for me. Even small amounts reliably wreck my sleep.
I found myself spending more mental energy trying to work out how I could have a drink without the downsides than I ever got back from the drink itself.
The final straw was falling asleep at 8pm on Christmas Eve. Festive. Magical.
So I'm done, not as a statement, just because it had made itself pointless.
Being binary turned out to be far easier than endless negotiation.
That wasn’t a dramatic decision. It was the end of a very long self-experiment.
What I actually like about Dry January
At its best, Dry January isn’t about abstinence. It’s about curiosity.
What happens if I change this one variable?
What do I notice?
What surprises me?
What feels harder than expected — and why?
That’s a far healthier way to approach habit change than shame, purity, or “fixing” yourself.
Public health campaigns tend to work best when they invite people to notice, not perform.
Dry January has survived because it does exactly that.
Whether you do it, ignore it, resent it, or quietly admire it from afar — the interesting part is being willing to ask why.
And that, frankly, is a skill worth keeping well beyond January.
Interested to hear your views on this.
With best wishes,
Lynette
