When Did a Few Drinks Start to Cost So Much? The pros and cons of alcohol.

I’m Irish, social, and I like a drink, or two.

For 15 years, I worked in artist management and large-scale event production, traveling the world in a high-stress industry where alcohol was basically the accepted medication, inspiration, and fuel.

Musicians may be one of the only professions regularly plied with alcohol before going to work.

Seriously, if you drink everything backstage, someone will bring you more before you even set foot on stage.

It took me years to get used to open bars and stop feeling obliged to get over-served simply because one was within reach, which was often.

Imagine sharing a bottle of whiskey with your dentist before a root canal.

Were we functional alcoholics, or alcoholics with a good work ethic?

Either way, alcohol became remarkably normal.

A few years ago, I was having a couple of cocktails most days without thinking much about it. I wasn’t getting drunk. I was functioning. It was simply part of the rhythm of the day.

Then life changed.

I became a first-time dad at 50.

Morning duty became my responsibility so my partner, Amanda, could get some much-needed sleep.

I started noticing that after drinking the night before, I was tired, irritable, and not fully appreciating this magical one-on-one time with my son.

That bothered me.

Around the same time, I was studying to become a wellness coach and had read the fascinating book Why We Sleep, by Matthew Walker PhD. 

I was learning how important sleep is for memory, learning, recovery, and health. I was spending hours trying to put new information into my brain while doing something in the evening that made my brain reluctant to retain it.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

My partner, as a new mom, wasn't drinking, and about half my friends weren't drinking either.

So I updated the guidelines to my personal operating system.

No alcohol during the normal work week. A few drinks at the weekend.

Nothing dramatic.

But the results have been interesting.

Being at a stage in life where these things seem more prudent, I regularly monitor my bloodwork.

Across three panels over roughly 14 months, markers related to my liver health and insulin sensitivity moved from the lower end of normal to about as good as I could reasonably hope for.

I also track sleep, resting heart rate, and heart-rate variability with my Fitbit.

Weekend drinking leaves large dents all over the data.

Resting Heart Rate goes up. Heart Rate Variability tends to go down. Sleep quality suffers.

Sometimes from only one or two drinks.

My body apparently didn't get the memo that I was drinking "moderately."

There are other things I’ve become more conscious of too. Alcohol temporarily changes how the body prioritizes fuel metabolism; recovery and repair don't exactly benefit from poor sleep and the additional physiological stress.

But there is another side to the equation.

In Drunk: How We Sipped, Danced, and Stumbled Our Way to Civilization, Edward Slingerland makes a fascinating case that humans haven't been drinking together for thousands of years simply because we're idiots. 

Alcohol lowers our guard and can increase trust, bonding, cooperation, and creativity. 

Slingerland even points to research showing patent applications dropped about 15% when Prohibition was imposed in previously "wet" American counties, before eventually recovering as people found new ways to socialize.

Perhaps there really is something to the luck of the Irish. We may be famous drinkers, occasionally infamous ones, but we are also storytellers, musicians, poets, and people for whom sitting around a table talking to strangers can practically qualify as a national sport.

Alcohol has often been the fundamental social lubricant in the middle of it.

Slingerland's argument doesn't make alcohol healthy. It makes the human equation more complicated. 

Something can be physiologically costly while still providing genuine social and psychological benefits.

Alcohol can loosen inhibition, build trust, and bring people together while simultaneously taking something from tomorrow morning, and sometimes the day after too.

And increasingly, that's the trade I'm questioning.

At 30, I didn't think much about any of this.

At 52, the bill seems to arrive faster, and my long-term view on life has been recalibrated.

And that brings me to something I'm wrestling with now.

We're heading to Europe next week for about a month, and I have absolutely no intention of avoiding alcohol completely. Going to Ireland and refusing a Guinness feels a little like giving up water before crossing the Sahara.

But I'm wondering whether, when I get home, I should stop drinking altogether for a while.

Maybe a few months. Maybe longer.I don't know.

I don't feel drawn to AA or becoming a 12-stepper, but I've developed a genuine appreciation for what those communities offer people who need them: community, accountability, clear guidelines, and an understanding of just how quietly alcohol can weave itself into everyday life, and the damage that can cause.

I'm glad those communities and support systems exist.

My question is simply whether alcohol still adds more to my life than it takes away.

Because I genuinely enjoy a couple of cocktails, hanging out in bars, and shooting the breeze with compadres, new friends, and happy strangers.

But I've also discovered something inconvenient.

I can have nearly as much fun in those same bars with a non-alcoholic drink in my hand and still be the better version of myself the next day.

So what on the surface seems like a simple decision isn't particularly simple at all.

I haven't reached a grand conclusion.

I'm just paying attention.

And perhaps that's where meaningful change often starts.

Not with hitting rock bottom or declaring something "bad," but noticing the gap between what we say we value and what our habits actually deliver.

Alcohol happens to be the thing I'm questioning right now.

What are you questioning? Where do you notice resistance in yourself, even when you suspect a change might be good for you?

Please share. I'd genuinely like to hear.