Sober Sis Blog

Written By Jenn Kautsch

I Didn’t Need a New Identity. I Just Need to Find Me Again.

And Maybe that's what you need, too.

I was thinking the other day about how strange it is that we rarely question the things we’ve simply accepted as normal. We just absorb them over time. Somewhere along the way, wine became part of girls’ nights. Champagne became part of celebrations. Margaritas became part of vacations. We didn’t wake up one morning and consciously decide that alcohol would become woven into every meaningful moment of our lives. It just... happened. Little by little, year after year, we were handed messages about what fun looked like, what relaxing looked like, what celebrating looked like and before we knew it, many of us weren’t just drinking alcohol. We had quietly started building pieces of our identity around it.

When I look back on my own story, I can see that happening so clearly now, although I couldn’t see it then. I wasn’t the woman who enjoyed a glass of wine “on occasion.” I saw everything as an occasion for drinking! I became the woman who brought the wine, who suggested happy hour, who knew which restaurant had the best margaritas, who packed a bottle for the girls’ weekend. It became part of how I saw myself, and because of that, changing my relationship with alcohol felt like so much more than changing a habit. It felt like I was risking part of my identity. If you’ve ever wondered why taking a break from drinking feels surprisingly emotional, I think this is part of the reason. It’s not just about what’s in your glass. It’s about the story you’ve been telling yourself about who you are.

“But who will I be?”

I think that’s why one of the biggest questions women ask me is, “But who will I be?” They don’t always say it exactly like that, but it’s underneath so many conversations. Who will I be at girls’ night? Who will I be on vacation? Who will I be at the wedding? Will people still think I’m fun? Will I still recognize myself? Those are real questions because when something has become part of your identity, letting go of it feels a little like grieving. Even if you know it’s no longer serving you, it’s still familiar. And we humans love what’s familiar.

One of my favorite things to do is imagine us as little girls. Picture yourself on the playground when you were eight years old. Did you need rosé to laugh until your stomach hurt? Did you need a cocktail to dance? Did you need a glass of wine to celebrate your birthday? Of course not. We naturally found joy in connection, imagination, adventure, friendship, and simply being alive. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, though, we were taught a different story. We learned that celebration came in a bottle. We learned that relaxation came with a cork. We learned that confidence came in a cocktail glass. Looking back, I don’t think we were just sold alcohol. I think we were sold an identity.

You’re being sold…

As a marketing major in college, I find this fascinating because good marketing has never really been about selling products. It’s about selling who you’ll become if you buy the product. That’s exactly what alcohol marketing has done for decades. It hasn’t sold us wine. It’s sold us belonging. Sophistication. Relief. Friendship. Romance. Adventure. Motherhood. Reward. Somewhere along the way, we stopped seeing those as advertisements and started believing they were simply true. I know I did. I thought wine made the evening special, when really the people around the table were what made it special. I thought champagne made birthdays memorable, when really it was the people singing around me. I gave alcohol credit for things it never actually created.

One of the biggest surprises of this journey has been realizing that I didn’t need to become a different woman. For a while, I honestly thought that’s what sobriety required. I imagined I’d become serious. Maybe a little boring. Maybe I’d have to trade fun for discipline or excitement for responsibility. But almost ten years later, I can tell you the opposite happened. I didn’t lose myself. I found myself. I laugh more deeply now because I’m fully present. I remember conversations. I wake up remembering birthdays instead of recovering from them. I have more genuine confidence because it isn’t borrowed from a beverage anymore. It’s rooted in knowing who I am.

That doesn’t mean the transition was easy. There were awkward moments. There were moments when I felt out of place holding a sparkling water while everyone else held wine glasses. There were evenings when I wondered if I’d made the right decision. There were times I questioned whether I still fit in. But every single one of those moments was slowly teaching me something beautiful: I was never losing my identity. I was peeling away layers that had been covering it up.

That’s why I love talking about living sober-minded instead of simply living alcohol-free. Being sober-minded means I’m awake to my own life. I’m aware of my thoughts, my emotions, my relationships, and the presence of God in ordinary moments. It means I’m no longer outsourcing joy, confidence, celebration, or connection to something outside of me. I’m learning to experience those things as gifts that were available all along. Alcohol didn’t create them. It just convinced me it did.

So if you’re in that place where you’re quietly wondering,

“Who will I be if I stop drinking?” can I gently encourage you? You’re asking the wrong question. The better question is, “Who have I always been underneath all of this?” Because I have a feeling she’s still there. She may feel a little unfamiliar right now because it’s been a while since you’ve spent time together. But she’s waiting patiently. And I think when you meet her again, you’re going to discover she’s wiser, stronger, kinder, and far more joyful than you ever imagined.

Keep going and growing, 💛

Jenn

P.S. This is exactly why I created the 21 Day Reset. It’s not about becoming someone else. It’s about creating enough space to reconnect with the woman God created you to be before the world started handing you identities you were never meant to carry. If you’re ready to explore that with a community of women who truly understand, I’d love for you to join us.