Sharing about sobriety isn’t “proselytizing”

And sharing about any health-conscious lifestyle isn’t automatically “purity culture” or “politically coded,” either.

While scrolling through Substack Notes the other day, I came across a note by one of the platform’s top culture writers, Anne Helen Petersen. The note excerpted a longer article where she discusses social media use and our relationship with online devices.

I appreciate much of what Petersen says in the article itself—exploring our relationship with online time feels especially relevant lately, as I wrote about here. What really caught my attention on Notes, however, was that she led with this statement:

“You know how, when people get sober, or fall in love with running, or have a breakthrough in therapy—they can’t stop proselytizing about it?”

Ouch. I’ll admit—that line left me reactive and heated. Reflecting on why, I realized two things:

First, I felt ashamed and embarrassed. Writing about sobriety isn’t just part of my recovery process; it’s also a key aspect of my job—both here at Sober Soulful and in my role as editor and newsletter manager for another publication. Petersen is a widely respected writer, admired by many. Even though I knew it wasn’t personal, reading her words about sober people made me question how my work is perceived.

The second thing I realized is that my reaction wasn’t just about one writer, one excerpt, one note, or even sobriety. Over the past few months especially, I’ve noticed more and more writers and commenters dissing people for sharing any choices that support their physical health and well-being (which, of course, impacts mental health too).

Maybe this involves getting sober, adopting a more nourishing way of eating, or starting a movement practice. Maybe it’s reducing sugar or drinking more water. From what I’ve observed, the choices most likely to attract snark and shaming are those that:

• Involve some element of physical caretaking—especially related to what we consume (food, alcohol, caffeine, sugar, nicotine, etc.) or choose not to consume.

• Can feel like a judgment if we’re not making those same choices ourselves—especially if we secretly or subconsciously suspect we need to or want to.

My reactions are 100 percent my responsibility—I’m not blaming them on Petersen or anyone else.

As for the trend of snarking, shaming, or judging others who share—or even enthusiastically celebrate—their own wellness choices? I believe it reveals far more about the person doing the snarking, shaming, or judging than anything.

Below, I share how I responded to Anne Helen Petersen in the moment, along with some thoughts I’ve had upon further reflection. I also zoom out beyond Petersen, exploring other ways I’ve been noticing bias against people making healthy choices online. As well, I offer insights from a sober perspective that might not be obvious if you’re not sober yourself, and I highlight how the voices of newly sober people might benefit all of us.

First, my response to “You know how, when people get sober…”

After seeing Petersen’s note and then reading the article, I responded as follows:

While I understand what you’re saying and recognize that this isn’t the focus of your article (much of which I agree with), I find it curious that you lead with a generalization about sober people in this note.

Do you encounter many sober folks proselytizing in person? Or are you referring to people (like me) who are simply writing about their sobriety and how it has benefited them—similar to how people write about other transformative choices? Similar to how you’re doing in this article?

Or perhaps you mean sober people writing to reinforce their own recovery, or those writing for other sober people, people who are sober curious, and/or those questioning their relationship with alcohol?

Reading “quit lit” books and online content was deeply supportive for me when I was deciding whether to keep drinking, as well as in the early months of sobriety. I know I’m not alone in that. Now, intent on further reducing my screen time, I feel drawn to articles like the one you wrote—which I don’t consider proselytizing.

For many sober people, it can feel awkward and even intimidating or scary to tell others they don’t drink. In the nearly five years I’ve been alcohol-free, I’ve mentioned this choice in person maybe three times. Even then, it was only to politely decline an offer of alcohol by saying, “No thanks, I don’t drink.” Those who are triggered by that choice and statement almost always have a problematic relationship with alcohol.

That said, I agree: proselytizing doesn’t work. No one will quit something or make a lasting change until they decide to do so themselves—or until they no longer have a choice.

I love these questions from your article: “How do we relearn how to talk to one another? To live with each other?” One starting point, I think, is to make a conscious effort not to “other” entire groups of people and to be mindful of how our words might land when we speak in generalizations.

Although I was heated in the moment, I still stand behind what I wrote. But can I tell you a secret?

In the past, I would’ve agreed with Anne Helen Petersen.

It’s true! In the years leading up to quitting alcohol, I found sober content self-righteous and irritating. Ironic, right? But deep down, I knew I wanted to quit, and sober content poked at my subconscious. Though I never would’ve admitted it back then, I was actually frustrated with myself for staying in a painful, predictable cycle. That wasn’t the sober content’s fault—that was on me.

These days, if I’m triggered by someone sharing a choice or habit they personally find supportive, I take a close, honest look at what’s going on for me internally and where that person might be a mirror. There’s usually an important message that I need to tend to, and that message generally has little to do with the person who’s sharing. (Most sober people really get this, by the way, because taking personal accountability and focusing on “our side of the street” is a key principle across various recovery programs. It’s one of the practices I respect and love most about the sober community.)

In retrospect, the reactive projection I experienced before quitting alcohol becomes painfully obvious. If I’d been more at peace with my own life at the time, sober content wouldn’t have bugged me. (To be clear, I’m speaking solely about myself here, not implying anything about Anne Helen Petersen.)

I’m not judging you, I’m just not drinking.

Since getting sober, both in my own experience and in conversations with others, I’ve noticed how often people respond to sobriety as if it’s a judgment. A typical reaction: “Oh, I don’t really drink that much either,” or “I’m only drinking tonight because…” To be honest, I’m still triggered when people immediately center and explain themselves after I get up the nerve to share something vulnerable. But I also recognize it for what it is: the same kind of projection I once engaged in myself.

And of course such internalization and projection aren’t limited to sobriety. Have you ever made a health-conscious choice that was difficult and that you were proud of, only to work up the courage to share it with someone, only to have that person minimize it? Or ridicule it? Or shift the focus onto themselves? If so, you know how it feels.

This is one reason I shy away from talking about sobriety or other aspects of my lifestyle except on the internet—where it’s my job. But, yes: when we’re on the other side—as I was before getting sober—it can absolutely feel like the person sharing is judging or preaching, even when all they’re doing is sharing their choice and how it’s helped them.

Now, are some people actually proselytizing when they talk about sobriety or wellness? Absolutely! I’m sure it exists! But I’ve never encountered a sober person doing this out in the wild. And if they’re sharing on the internet, well… isn’t that what most writers are doing in one form or another? Sharing what works for us, what we believe is helpful or true, our struggles and successes, our lived experience?

Who the hell decides what counts as proselytizing? After all, we can just click away.

It’s not purity culture or politically coded either.

Another tendency I want to address head-on is that people who shame and blame others for making and sharing supportive choices often conflate those choices with something they are not—specifically, something the person doing the shaming and blaming deems uncool, misguided, or dangerous.

Indeed, this is one of the most disturbing trends I’ve noticed over the past few months—including in comment sections like this one, where a reader linked taking care of one’s body and exploring sober curiosity to puritanical, Christian nationalist, and right-wing agendas. I come across similar remarks weekly, if not daily, online—whether in comment sections, essays, blogs, even articles in big publications.

And look, I get it. With so much information out there, it can be difficult to determine not only what’s true, but also what will be personally useful. Healthy skepticism and wise discernment are needed! But there’s a massive difference between asking questions, acknowledging that we don’t all share the same body, circumstances, beliefs, and opinions… and making inflammatory, unfounded connections.

As a sober, health-conscious Chinese Medicine doctor who does not identify as “puritanical,” “right-wing,” or with any other label within the U.S. political system, I’m nervous about the growing skepticism (and, often, outright vitriol) towards anything considered physically healthy outside of allopathic, conventional medicine.¹

I recognize that conversations about health, wellness, and politics are increasingly polarized. But wherever you stand on these discussions, sobriety, eating nutritious food, moving our bodies in supportive ways, and other healthy lifestyle choices are not inherently puritanical, political, or ideologically coded.

And by the way…

It can be scary to come out as sober or health conscious.

As I wrote in my response to Petersen, for many sober people, it can feel awkward, even intimidating or scary, to tell others they don’t drink.

Kaitlyn concurred, confessing, “Eeek. I still sweat like crazy when I have to tell someone I don’t drink.” Similarly, Emily May pointed out that telling someone new she doesn’t drink immediately places her in a “vulnerable position”—one that might come with assumptions, judgments, and inappropriate questions.

Very thankfully, this is changing—especially among younger generations, which I wrote about here. But even at my age (49), I’ve been delighted to discover that many people don’t care if you don’t drink—they’re far more concerned about whether they’re drinking.

I believe a major reason behind this shift and the diminished stigma around addiction recovery is that more and more people are sharing their stories publicly, with pride and in their own names. The recovery landscape today is vastly different from even five years ago. No longer does it feel like a requirement or expectation to declare ourselves “diseased” or hide away in a basement (though if anonymity and the disease model support your personal recovery, I fully back you in that).

And yet, in some contexts, the stigma is getting worse—specifically against people who chose to quit alcohol without having an obvious problem or hitting rock bottom. In recent months, it seems that being healthy and stepping back from unhealthy choices is not only “uncool” but is being called out—whether as “politically coded,” “puritanical,” or even as “diet culture.”

When did it become a social risk to describe something as “healthy”? When did doing something for my personal wellness become equated with wrongspeak?

With alcohol everywhere, sober voices are needed.

I realize that some people promote unhealthy practices under the guise of “wellness,” and I’ve written before about how unsolicited advice can cause harm. There are nuances to giving advice and sharing wisdom, and there are contexts where even sharing personal stories can be inappropriate, untimely, or hurtful. However...

As someone who’s been immersed in sober spaces for the past five years, I can assure you that the overwhelming majority of sober content is directed at those seeking it out, including other sober people, people trying to get and stay sober or cut back, and people who are questioning their relationship to alcohol.

What I’m mostly seeing are people sharing their recovery stories, discussing the effects of alcohol, offering support, and expressing a sense of sober pride and enthusiasm. This kind of content is needed precisely because we live in a society where consuming a highly addictive, proven harmful substance is promoted and celebrated. Not just among people we know, but also in films, ads, tv shows, social media feeds, lifestyle blogs and newsletters—basically, in what can feel like everything, everywhere.

Think about it: over the past year, how often was alcohol part of a date, party, celebration, sports event, or book club you attended? Even if you weren’t drinking, would it surprise you to show up for an event and find there’s no alcohol?

For anyone who’s broken free from this strong cultural narrative, it can be hard to resist expressing that something’s not right here—and that there is an alternative. Plus, they now have a fresh perspective on the alcohol-soaked culture we’re steeped in. Their newfound clarity should be valued and heeded, not dismissed or diminished. It’s a powerful reminder that change is not only possible but absolutely worth celebrating.

Some who drink might mistake this pride, enthusiasm, relief, and excited disbelief for proselytizing, but I don’t believe that’s the case. In a culture where all kinds of addiction are commonplace and so many are searching for freedom, aren’t the newly sober exactly who we should be listening to? Don’t they offer ideas and inspiration for all of us?

In part for this reason, consuming “sober content” was profoundly helpful for me in early sobriety. Writing about it was, too! Currently, I feel less pulled to define myself vis-à-vis a substance I haven’t had in nearly five years and don’t plan to have again. But in the early days, sharing about my recovery served various functions: accountability, celebration, processing what was changing, and helping me find community—especially since it was during lockdown and I didn’t have sober pals except on the internet.

I know I’m not alone in this either, because through writing Sober Soulful and managing another sober publication, I receive public comments and private emails and messages all the time from people who are trying to get sober, are newly sober, or are working to make other supportive shifts and break free from other addictions—especially those related to food and taking care of our physical body.

The specifics vary, but the common theme is: this content is helping me get through, you’re helping me change my life for the better, thank you, thank you, thank you.

THIS is my “why” for writing about sobriety and holistic wellness more broadly. It has nothing to do with pushing or preaching, sending covert political messages, or recruiting anyone into a healthy living cult, sober MLM, or puritanical version of wellness.

But if I were going to proselytize, it’d be about this:

If you personally don’t have a problem with something, and if sharing and consuming content about that thing is helping people get or stay healthier or even stay alive, why not give them that? No one’s forcing you to read or engage with it. No one’s responsible for catering to everyone on the internet. If you’re all good, what’s it to you?

Can we please stop with the “othering”?

The last thing I’ll mention is that sober people aren’t one thing, and neither are “wellness people.”

Sober and wellness communities are wildly diverse. Heck, we don’t even agree on what’s sober or healthy! And yes, some folks do push and preach, but that’s not a reflection of the whole—same as with any group, movement, or topic.

Not only is proselytizing not a condition of choosing to be alcohol-free or making other health-conscious choices, it’s not even the norm. So if you catch yourself saying, “You know how, when people get sober…” (especially if you’re not sober yourself), please consider getting specific and being more precise in your language.

I’d love for you to share.

I welcome you to share your thoughts in the comments. It may be that our perspectives differ, and that’s absolutely okay. There’s lots of complexity and room for nuance here, and my reflections above just scratch the surface.

I do, however, ask that everyone in this space refrain from offering unsolicited advice, spreading hate and division, or engaging in political debate and commentary. There are plenty of other places to do that online—I lovingly challenge all of us to try something different.

What I’m most eager to hear is your personal experience, for example:

• If you’re sober: What role, if any, did consuming and/or creating sober content play in your decision to get sober? How about in your ongoing experience of sobriety and maintaining sobriety? Do you view such content as a form of proselytizing? Do you view yourself as a proselytizer?

• If you’re not sober: Do you regularly encounter people proselytizing about sobriety—especially offline, in real life, when you can’t just click away? If yes, please be precise and specific. From your perspective, what makes it proselytizing? Is it something you encounter weekly, every time you go out, once or twice a year, or once or twice ever? Is a roving band of sober proselytizers I don’t know about going door to door?!!

• Whether or not you identify as sober: Do you feel vulnerable sharing other health-supportive choices? Especially online and especially related to your physical body? Do you find content talking about supportive health choices triggering? Or helpful? Or both?

Thank you for being here. Thank you to everyone who’s sharing about their sobriety and other health-conscious choices without being preachy. As Anne Helen Petersen says, proselytizing never works anyway. What does work to change hearts, minds, and bodies? Living what works for us, living by example, living more beautifully.

With love,
Dana

1. Though, if you identify in those ways, you’re still welcome here. Similar to recovery groups, Sober Soulful is a nonpartisan space. I have people very dear to me who think and believe differently than I do about health, wellness, and politics.