Is Sobriety a Choice If We Don't Have a Voice?

Christian women carry a silent, disempowering shame that hinders their healing.

» Resources for women who struggle or question their relationship with alcohol here: SobrietyCurious.com

Fifteen years ago, I sat in a moonlit room behind a locked door with a bottle of Peach Schnapps at my feet and a Bible on my desk, Googling “How to quit drinking.” It felt like watching an X-rated movie in secret or hoping a doorbell-ringing visitor wouldn’t see I was home.

I could not be found out because someone might make me stop drinking. And that couldn’t be anyone’s choice but mine.

A search result for AA surfaced, and another for a British women’s sobriety group. I clicked on the latter, but the website was clunky and hard to navigate. I tried searching for local AA meetings, but I was years away from the desperation it would take to walk into one of those rooms.

Alcoholism felt like a man’s problem because that was the only way I knew it. In family members, in friends of my Dad, in movies, and on TV. AA was started by men and for men.

Women were the ones who were supposed to keep the men in check. They started the temperance movement and barely had time to drink, keeping the kids and house and their jobs in order.

…Johnny Cash in “Walk the Line”

…Michael Keaton in “Clean and Sober”

…Nicholas Cage in “Leaving Las Vegas.”

I devoured these movies, savoring a sense of connection to the characters’ lack of control around alcohol. Did anyone else around me get it? I didn’t know.

When Denzel Washington’s “Flight” came out, it became (and remains) one of my favorite movies because of the resonance I felt. He’d resurrect himself after a night of drinking with water, cocaine and another drink. No one was the wiser when he boarded the plane in his pilot gear. The balancing act was secure — until it wasn’t when it was discovered he had drugs in his system during an emergency landing.

It reminded me of my own life, drinking too much at night and attempting to “correct” myself the next morning with Gatorade, tall cups of cold water, Excedrin migraine and sweaty, toxin-coaxing long runs.

»> Do I Have a Drinking Problem? Let’s Talk About It.

A couple of hours later, I’d feel fine and tell myself it couldn’t be that bad if I exercised, cared for my kids, and did my job. Later that night, I might co-lead Bible study or attend a worship night at church. It was a life of constant maintenance, plotting drinks, and pushing boundaries. I was on a tightrope teetering over fire.

The women in the films weren’t like me. They were always the strong, straight, and healthy ones—because they had to be.

They were June Cash, helping her husband get clean, or Lady Gaga as Ally in “A Star is Born,” watching Bradley Cooper self-destruct. They were my Grandmother when my Grandpa was manning a police car by day and a whiskey bottle by night.

Where was my muse or inspiration to snap out of it?

Before having kids, I’d flirted with fire — careening my way home alone at night from college bars, going back to a man’s house I’d just met, hitching rides from strangers, and blacking out more times than I can count. I honestly still don’t know if I was ever violated, but sometimes I think I was when brief, breathless seconds of consciousness return. That I don’t know is a tragedy.

In reality, as these movies were made and I stumbled my way through college parties, festooned by garbage cans of syrupy, Everclear-infested Kool-aid, women across the country — like me — were drinking more than ever.

Marketing was part of our demise, as alcohol companies capitalized on feminist tropes of equality and told women they “deserved” to unwind with a drink just as much as men. And oh yeah, they wrapped tin cans and glass bottles in pink, sparkly hues, infused with flavors of strawberry and tangerine.

Wine-themed paraphernalia became common in the piouest of homes, and moms started housing liquor-laced mixed drinks in their Yetis at soccer games.

Behind the scenes, that data showed a significant uptick in binge drinking among women and an increasing rate of deaths related to alcohol. We thought we were just having fun, but really, we were killing ourselves.

Alcohol is Sexist

Alcohol is sexist. Not truly, but biological reality means it’s wholly more harmful to women in how it seeps into our bones and brains and bodies.

But, every time a commercial or a friend or a magazine article told a woman she “needed a drink,” she ignored the voice in her head, whispering that something was off about her dependence on alcohol.

So she squashed the voice, declared herself normal, and maintained the facade of an empowered, modern woman who just loves the taste of a good Pinot Noir.

Eventually, I found my way to the movie, “When a Man Loves a Woman,” the first time I’d ever seen a woman portrayed as an alcoholic. Meg Ryan chugs vodka at 2am, hides liquor around the house, slaps her daughter and digs half-empty wine bottles out of garbage cans. She nearly ruins her marriage and her life. It was closer, but still felt a bit distant to me because I wasn’t at that level of rock bottom (but I knew I could be if I didn’t stop.)

So, it wasn’t me, but I still resonated with the all-consuming pull to a bottle. Tall or short, glass or tin, bitter or sweet. Whatever it took, in those tense, bored or stressful moments, I drank.

Out to dinner, I ordered the strongest IPAs even though I hated the taste. At home, I took quick chugs of vodka while alone in the kitchen. I snuck to the store to buy four-packs of mini-wine bottles on a Monday night to make it seem like I was drinking less.

But there was no morning drinking, child neglect or crazy behavior. That didn’t make me better than someone who did those things. It didn’t make me stronger or more character-fortified. It only made me a few steps behind on my way to meet them at the bottom.

Mostly, there were:

• headaches

• avoidance

• disassociation

• depression

• arguments

• self-neglect

• regret

There were more fights with my husband and more social anxiety at alcohol-free functions. I spent more money, had more anxiety, and stayed stunted in my faith and mental health. The more I drank, the more dependent I became on it for basic things like cooking dinner, meeting up with friends, or getting through family holidays.

What I didn’t know then was that it made sense.

Alcohol is an addictive substance. The more you drink, the more you tell your body you “need” it to survive. I trained my body to believe alcohol was a life elixir, that I simply couldn’t get along properly without it. I was changing my brain, altering my cells, and warping my body’s natural functions…all because someone told me I deserved a drink.

Women of Faith Struggle in Silence

Things for women are worse within the Christian community. Not because our fellow Christians don’t care but because it’s a silent struggle. Little awareness that women are dealing with this exists. But here’s what we know: In 2023, 9% of American women admitted to struggling with alcoholism, as I reported in Christianity Today. That’s 11.7 million people, which means that in a church of 500, at least 20 women are likely struggling.

But when was the last time you heard drugs or alcohol mentioned as something your average woman struggles with? Have you heard congregants told the church is a safe place to admit their struggle and work through it? When have you seen this particular battle taken into account at a gathering of Christian friends?

It’s not done because we don’t want to scare people away or cause them to think we’re “legalistic” or “fundamentalist.” Most people also don’t know the epidemic that’s overtaken women, at happy hours, ball games, kids birthday parties and their own bathrooms behind locked doors.

As Christians, we should avoid causing our brother to stumble, but a couple of beers on the patio is fine, right? A few White Claws on Friday night with the girls? That’s cool, disarming, and fun. Maybe for you.

I’m not saying we should ban alcohol or that Christians can’t drink it. Alcohol is a substance. Chemicals mixed together have no moral bearing.

…I am saying there are a LOT of warnings about drunkenness and its consequences in the Bible. And we should take them seriously.

…I am saying that these days, you’ve got to be aware that not everyone can handle alcohol.

…I am saying that alcohol, despite being legal, is a drug, and you should be fully aware of that. Just because it’s regulated doesn’t mean it’s safe.

There are close to 200,000 deaths per year in the U.S. due to overconsumption of alcohol. This isn’t too much sugar or caffeine — it’s a toxic drug that’s hurting your neighbors.

And it’s hurting your most vulnerable neighbors most — those marginalized by poverty, loneliness and mental illness. Stop and think about what that means for you to casually drink like it bears no consequence on anyone at all.

Why do you think millions of people have been in AA over the years?

Why does every single person know someone who has made a mess of their life with alcohol?

…Families are destroyed by it.
…Domestic violence incidents are fueled by it.
…Child abuse and neglect is activated by it.
…Innocent people die in unnecessary car accidents because of it

My mother-in-law ruined her life, neglected her children, and lost her relationship with everyone she ever loved because of it. There are millions of people in history who experienced the same thing.

It doesn’t discriminate based on your religion, parenting status, ethnicity, or high-achieving persona. We’re all at varying levels of vulnerability to addiction. We’re all just a few steps away from becoming the people we judge on the street corner or the liquor store or the courthouse.

The more we fear being judged, the less likely we are to seek help. This brings us to Christian women, who are often mothers, ministry leaders, pastor’s wives (or pastors themselves), classroom volunteers, and respected members of the community in their jobs as teachers, lawyers, managers and non-profit ministries.

• Would speaking up invite distrust?

• Would people not want to leave their children anymore?

• Will your entire family be judged and gossiped about?

• Will people be afraid to invite you over, talk to you, confide in you?

• Will it damage your witness?

• Won’t it be so awkward?

Once you admit you have a problem, you can’t go back. By the time you think it all through, you’re already heading back to the shelter of your own mind, where you know you’ll deal with it one day. But not today.

Until the next sweaty, sleepless night of anxiety, headache-inducing hangover morning or embarrassing, regretful outburst that leaves you hating yourself all over again.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

I’m here. I’ll be your muse. And plenty of other women are doing it too — those I featured in my recent Christianity Today story and more.

Ten years ago, the halls were empty of our voices, but things are changing. Churches are starting to hear us. Recovery and getting help is a little less shame-laced than it used to be. We still have a long way to go.

Fifteen years ago, when I found very few resources to help me through, I didn’t know I’d be the one here today — in the lighthouse helping lead others to comfort, safety and healing. But here I am. And here you are. You have a voice — use it.

» Grab my personally-curated package of resources at SobrietyCurious.com.

*You’ll also receive details on my forthcoming book on women & sobriety.

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• Reason to Return: Why Women Need the Church & the Church Needs Women

• Leaving Cloud 9: The True Story of a Life Resurrected From the Ashes of Poverty, Trauma and Mental Illness