“Sober January” has become a tradition for people seeking health and revival in a new calendar year, and what it consists of is literally just that — drinking no alcohol whatsoever.

My desire to experience a sober January began when it seemed alcohol had become critical to enhancing my experiences. I’d get a networking invitation, and the first question I had was, Will there be alcohol? Or, there’s a new movie out — let’s stop and get wine beforehand. Or, let’s make dinner — I’ll grab some beer.

My fear was that addiction and reliance were creeping into my life without consciousness, without awareness. As a sociable millennial working in D.C., making the move to sobriety seemed nearly impossibly and incredibly daunting — but I was up for the challenge in the name of health and well-being.

The author enjoying the great outdoors

My first week, I was optimistic. I had just came back from celebrating the holidays, during which large amounts of alcohol seemed readily available — wine, tequila, beer, you name it. It’s always easy to want to be sober when you overconsume. So I promised myself I would work out more, eat healthier, and drink lots and lots of water.

The second week was a little harder. I started to justify some unhealthy eating because I was not consuming calories through alcohol and felt the need to satisfy my cravings in other ways, whether that was through Chinese takeout, mac and cheese, or frozen meatballs.

I also struggled to find ways to entertain myself. Not only were most of my friends partaking in alcohol-induced activities in which I did not feel ready to participate, but I also didn’t know what I liked to do. I had no hobbies. That revelation scared me — and brought me to a tear-filled phone call with my mom. She recommended I try swimming and rock climbing, both of which I had done in the past but without much flair.

Inspired and determined, I trekked to Walmart and asked if they sold goggles. The woman looked at me as if I had just asked for a lawnmower in a health food store and shook me off with an, “Uh, we don’t have those.” (It was January, after all, not July.) But that didn’t deter my newfound determination.

The next day I drove nearly 40 minutes outside the city to Falls Church, Virginia, to a Dick’s Sporting Goods store in search of goggles. I also ordered a $20 one-piece swimsuit on Amazon and upon its arrival, this girl was in business. I swam twice in a month.

Practicing yoga wherever she can — here, in the National Building Museum

I also ordered “The Handmaid’s Tale” — the best-selling novel by Margaret Atwood — on my Kindle after all the talk and drama surrounding the TV series struck my curiosity. I began listening to several different podcasts; I tried my first O’Doul’s (a non-alcoholic beer with a striking resemblance to the taste of cardboard, in my opinion); I went to a comedy show and a piano bar (yes, sober); I did yoga in the National Building Museum; and I sought out new hiking trails in Maryland.

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Things seemed to be coming together. Going into the third week, my spirits were up — or so I thought. The third week was difficult at times because I had come so far and felt I had worked to improve my life in many different ways — only to realize I still had half a month to go. My advice for this week, for any aspiring Sober January warrior of the future, is to hit the gym hard. It’s a good distraction and helps alleviate stress related to the sudden lack of a social life.

Yoga helped a lot when it came to recentering myself, and running helped when I needed a release. I struggled to stay productive in my newly freed-up time and would find myself watching movies and reality TV. That’s when I knew I had to force myself out of bed and just go for a walk.

And I’ll always remember what a friend told me during my month of sobriety: “There would be times you’d call me and complain how hard it was. But every time I would tell you, ‘If you’re so miserable, then quit.’ And you would get angry and say, ‘I can’t give up on myself!'”

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I also experienced two situations that I took as God’s way of reminding me that my first-world problem of sobriety was miniscule in a world plagued by sadness and misfortune.

First, when I was at the piano bar drinking an O’Doul’s, I was thoroughly impressed by the performer. He was a one-man band, singing and playing the keyboard, the saxophone and the drums. But when I looked a little closer, I realized something peculiar about this man: He was completely blind. Even without the gift of sight, this man was out there performing and doing what he loved with no excuses. The revelation brought tears to my eyes.

The second sign I received came when I volunteered at Martha’s Table, an organization that provides services for the homeless in Washington, D.C. These homeless people receive a coupon every couple of months that allows them to come to the Martha’s Table’s thrift shop and pick out three tops, three bottoms, a jacket, a set of table utensils, and a pair of shoes marked for under $10. My job was to count the items they selected and to make sure they had what they needed and nothing more (except when they would request an extra jacket for their baby — then I would run and beg the manager to let me give it to them). 

One lady in particular stood out for me. She was raving about how much of a blessing the program was and seemed on the verge of tears when I allowed her to take an extra nightgown with the manager’s approval. She told me she had previously made $3,000 a week and was her family’s main provider.

“I will never forget my January experience.”

She said, “I hope you will never know the feeling of going from a provider to a beggar. I will have to grapple with that the rest of my life.” She said after seven years of living on the streets, she was finally able to rent a small apartment in a rundown part of the city. Any spare room she has, she designates to homeless friends who need a warm place to stay for a night or two. She has it good, she feels — and wants to pay it forward.

If she could see the light at the end of the tunnel — so could I.

Related: It’s Been 26 Years Since His Last Drink

The final week of my Sober January was victorious. I realized how far I’d come and saw myself persevere through challenging times. I’ve tended to be an instant gratification kind of girl (probably the millennial in me), but knowing I was in control of my destiny and my happiness — and being able to pull myself up and out of a mood without the artificially soothing effects of a glass of wine — was something I won’t forget.

It was empowering and humbling, and still is. Every interaction, emotion and action was deliberate and meaningful because it was me — completely and authentically. As cheesy as this may sound, I felt I’d not been in touch with that side of myself since my pre-alcohol days, and an occasional reminder of it was very grounding.

Here’s my advice to others on this topic: Focus on your relationships, your success, your health. Allow yourself to enjoy the person you’ve become. You may not have taken the time to get to know that person as well as you should.

These days, I have an occasional glass of wine, but I know I don’t need to have it — or any other alcohol, for that matter. That makes all the difference. Cheers to a great month — and many more!

Maggie Lit is a digital media producer at LifeZette. She can be reached at [email protected]; follow her on Twitter