How “Everything in Moderation” Is Just Settling for Mediocrity

Tough love for those wishing farewell to Dry January

As Dry January winds to a close and New Year’s resolutions lose their allure, I’m stopping by with a bit of tough love and some uncomfortable questions. Ready? Let’s rip off that bandaid. 

Here’s the thing: If you were inspired to take a break. If you feel tremendous relief that the end of that break is coming. If you went into that break secretly or openly worrying you might “have a problem.” 

Then the answer is yes. You do have a problem. That goes whether your break involved doing things differently when it comes to alcohol or food or scrolling or money or anything else. People who have a beautiful, healthy relationship to something—whatever that thing is—don’t worry about having an unhelpful, unhealthy relationship to it. 

They don’t give it up for a month, week, or weekend to “detox” or to “prove” they don’t have a problem. They don’t play the game of “only on weekends” or “only on Fridays” or “only wine” or “only natural wine” or “only craft brews” or “only carb-free spirits” or “only one drink or two” or only in moderation—everything in moderation. 

No. “Everything in moderation” is bullshit. Many things are profoundly harmful in any amount, even in moderation.

You can listen to a neuroscientist discuss the science of this as relates to alcohol here and review takeaways here.¹ But let’s set science aside. Let’s agree that debating the science offers a convenient distraction. More to the point: 

Does “everything in moderation” ever work? As in, does it ever help you feel your best or achieve what you say you want to achieve? Or fully embody what you say are your values? Things like vitality, integrity, confidence, and presence. Things like true self-care and body-mind wellness. Things like honesty and showing up fully. Things like being here fully for this one chance at life.

And, of course, the other stuff too: skin goals, sleep goals, work goals, creative goals, body goals, health goals, relationship goals, parenting goals, etc.²

Is your default—specifically as relates to moderation—actually working? Or are you playing a tired record on repeat? Are you settling for what’s comfortable and familiar because it’s easier? Are you choosing to consume or do something harmful because it’s become automatic? Are you choosing the “I deserve a treat” voice rather than treating yourself with the care you deserve?

Are you calling something “moderation” when moderation is actively harming you?

A favourite chocolate bar, through the lens of my iPhone

How moderation harmed me (and how I see it harming my clients)

For years leading up to my decision to get sober, my typical alcohol consumption consisted of two glasses of wine with dinner. And yet, I looked forward to those two glasses all day. And yet, I knew those two glasses were hurting me. 

Two glasses of wine—even one glass of wine—equaled permission granted.

Permission granted to release pent-up resentments, frustrations, and anger towards the world, the System, or my partner in reactive, unhelpful ways. Permission granted to send emails and texts I wouldn’t have otherwise. Permission granted to post something on social that was high on outrage and low on effectiveness. Permission granted to say yes to things I didn’t want to say yes to. Permission granted to accept trespass or outright violation of my boundaries from loved ones, colleagues, clients, and people I knew from the internet. Permission granted to show up as a careless version of myself and to write, say, and do things I’d quickly regret.

Two glasses of wine—even one glass of wine—also meant:

• Increased stress and anxiety (Alcohol only takes the edge off for the first thirty minutes; it’s downhill from there—no matter how much you keep drinking.)³

• Dozing off soon after getting into bed with a book, only to wake with heart-racing anxiety at 3 a.m. (This is due to the very physical, very predictable impact of alcohol consumption and withdrawal.)

• Laying awake then and in the early morning frantically reviewing everything I did, said, wrote, and sent after two glasses of wine 

• Feeling tired, moody, weepy, foggy, guilty, and melancholy the day after—which I relieved by anticipating wine with dinner 

• Wasting a fuck-ton of energy and life on this boring-ass cycle

All from two glasses of wine. All while functioning “normally” in daily life. All while excelling at work, practicing yoga daily, and being over-the-top disciplined and productive in my routines, habits, and billable output.

Yes, I was getting by. Yes, I could’ve continued “just fine.” But in choosing mediocrity in the guise of moderation, I was splitting myself off from my truest, wholest version. I knew I was doing this and that I was responsible.

Today, coming up on four years sober, I can’t underscore enough the difference it makes. Trading in those two glasses a night changed everything above and every single aspect of my life for the better. (For All the Good & Beautiful Things That Have Happened Since Getting Sober, head here.) 

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More recently, I reviewed my life of moderation on Instagram. Other than being on Substack, it was my last social media holdout and I’d already limited use to a minimum. 

Before quitting, I had taken every measure to minimize the app’s impact on me: I restricted myself to twenty minutes a day, followed fewer than fifty accounts, didn’t do Reels, Stories, or engage with DMs, and even kept comments and like counts turned off. And yet…

It always made me feel worse rather than better. It always left me agitated, unfocused, and anxious. It always spilled into life after those few minutes of scrolling. Energetically, it carried through the rest of my day. It also pulled me back, back, back…even when I resisted temptation.

When I quit Instagram for good last December, guess what? A weight lifted. Life felt more spacious and lighter. I started emailing and Zooming with faraway friends. I found it easier to ground into my personal values without being buffeted about by Likes & Opinion.

Do I miss it? Rarely and barely. In fact, it’s probably the easiest, most immediately relieving experience of quitting in memory.

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Meanwhile, in clinical practice, my heart breaks seeing folks continue the same harmful patterns. Around booze. Around food. Around hurtful relationships. Continuing to do the exact things that are making symptoms worse and causing their suffering. 

“But what can you do?” they say. “We do what we can,” they offer. “Everything in moderation!” they conclude.

I hold no blame here, and there’s no moral judgment. I also acknowledge that many, many people choose to skate along the surface of life because we live in an ecosystem where alcohol addiction and other addictions are not only accepted but sold to us.

That part—the Sea of Addiction we swim in—is not your fault. We’re all taught to tread these waters by default. But when justification and denial are found in the collective, responsibility and change must exist in the singular.⁴ 

I am an addict. I am responsible for myself. I have choice. And so do you. 

And that thing you’re doing in moderation? It will keep yielding the exact same results and causing more pain. This is a loss. This breaks my heart. This is addiction.

Harm Reduction & More Beautiful Questions

This isn’t to say we all find freedom from addiction the same way. And, to be clear: I do believe in harm reduction. Less of a harmful thing is better than lots of it. 

I also believe that different people need vastly different approaches to quitting substances and behaviours—what works for me may not work for you. You know best what you need. 

But, when I say that, I mean the truest part of you knows. Problem is, the “I deserve it” voice and our mind are on a mission to get in our way.

So, let me ask your truest part—the part that already knows, worries deep in the night, and lives in your most secret rooms:

• Does holding tight to your thing (whether drinking alcohol, overeating, overspending, gossiping, complaining, raging, scrolling, etc.) support you in living life more beautifully?

• Do you wish you did or used more of that thing the day after? How about on your deathbed?

• What if you took all that time, energy, focus, and fixation spent arranging your life in ways big and small around that thing and freed it up? What if you channelled those physical, mental, spiritual, and financial resources into something different? Even if “something different” just means reopening passage to possibility, imagination, newness, and wonder?

Way more than whether you think you have or don’t have a problem, I’m interested in knowing:

• Does partaking make you feel more confident or less? (In the sense of inner knowing and faith—not ego-driven bravado.)

• Does it give rise to quiet pride or secret shame?

• Does it feel in integrity or like a harmful cycle on repeat?

• Is it worth the tradeoffs? Not just short term but long term? Including all the time, energy, and focus that could’ve, would’ve, should’ve gone elsewhere?

• After partaking, how do you feel when falling asleep that night? Or when waking during the night? Come morning, do you wish you’d done more? Like, ever?

And my favourite, most telling question of all:

Does it feel connecting…or disconnecting? As in, connecting to true self, others, and Universe? As in, connecting through true intimacy rather than bonding over a shared drug of choice? As in, connecting to a self and life you whole-heartedly love?

Box of love, through the lens of my iPhone

Are you claiming moderation but choosing mediocrity?

Look, we’re only human. And if you’re like me and any other human I’ve met, the answer at least some of the time and with some things will absolutely be yes.

Yes, I’m settling. Yes, I’m skating along or skimming the surface. Yes, I’m choosing mediocrity. Yes, this is all I can manage today. Yes, this is what I need right now to survive. 

But when and where that’s the case, I challenge myself and I challenge you to be honest. I challenge us to take full responsibility for our choices and where we’re choosing “harm reduction” over stepping out of and getting free from an unhelpful cycle. I challenge us to name the consequences and tradeoffs. 

This isn’t a punishment. This is the best way I know to set change in motion and to choose more of what supports us more of the time. 

Because our body, our spirit, our truest self knows: It knows when moderation is hurting us. It knows when moderation is more of the same and a painful, boring, repetitive cycle. It knows when moderation actually isn’t so moderate. It knows when moderation and mediocrity are a violence to our life and our light.

Even recognizing this knowing brings relief. Even claiming it sets changes in motion.

I want that for you. I want that for us. Fuck moderation. Let’s choose true knowing and freedom. Let’s be awake for this life. Let’s go all in.

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Now you.

If you need loving backup for quitting a thing or staying the course after January, the next edition of the Sobriety Series goes out to paying subscribers this Sunday. Subscribe to make sure you get it.

Released the first Sunday every month, it includes a love letter from me to you, a guided audio meditation, and a collection of links to expand and inspire.

Meanwhile, I’d love to hear in the comments: 

• Are you excited or triggered by my declaration that moderation equals mediocrity? Does this reaction offer useful information about you and your patterns? 

• If you gave something up for Dry January or New Year’s, do you plan to continue come February 1st? Why or why not?

Those are suggestions; feel free to freestyle. Just please keep comments about you and your experience.

And please tap the little ♡ if you’d like to bring a moment of brightness to my day while offering the gift of “social proof” (sigh).

It’s a small thing, but one that lets others know there’s something useful here. The more folks subscribe (and especially the more folks become paying subscribers), the more time I can devote to this newsletter—which I consider my most meaningful, most magical work.

Thank you. I believe in you. I love you.
Dana

1. For more on the science of what alcohol does to our body and mind (along with fantastic, step-by-step guidance on how to quit), see Annie Grace’s This Naked Mind: Control Alcohol, Find Freedom, Discover Happiness & Change Your Life. This and the book links below are affiliate links for Bookshop.org, where I curate quit lit and other lists and may earn a small commission if you use my links to make a purchase.

2. I’m not saying you need to have goals in these areas—just acknowledging that many folks do (and that’s okay). Same goes for resolutions, aspirations, intentions, and wishes.

3. Here too, see Annie Grace’s This Naked Mind.

4. One of the first “rules” of recovery meetings is to drop collective language, stick to “I” statements, and take responsibility for our choices. I love this. I wish it were the norm for everyone everywhere. 

For more on how addiction isn’t our fault but is our responsibility, see the brilliant work of

Laura McKowen

, whose book We Are the Luckiest: The Surprising Magic of a Sober Life was a seminal one in my early recovery. Laura also shares hard, beautiful truths about “our thing” and taking responsibility in the essay and podcast episodes linked here.

Also see The Dark Side of the Light Chasers: Reclaiming Your Power, Creativity, Brilliance, and Dreams, by Debbie Ford. 

And listen to this episode of the Beyond the Self podcast with Africa Brooke.