The Mom Who Drinks Is Everywhere—But So Is the One Who Stopped

I Was That “Mommy Juice” Mom

Yep. That was me.

I had the cute glasses, the memes, the jokes.

“Don’t ask, it’s been a day.”

“Mommy’s juice box.”

“Wine o’clock.”

I wasn’t sloppy. I wasn’t passed out. I was just… like everyone else.

Overstimulated. Under-supported. Running on fumes and resentment.

And wine was my reward. My crutch. My badge of motherhood survival.

But somewhere along the line, I started to wonder:

Why do I feel worse?

Why is my anxiety worse after drinking the thing that’s supposed to “calm me down”?

Why am I so exhausted, puffy, moody, and disconnected?

And the scariest question of all:

What if this thing I’ve been sold as a solution is actually the problem?

The Great Deception

We’ve been perfectly deceived.

Alcohol is the only drug where quitting makes people uncomfortable.

Tell someone you stopped smoking meth and they cheer.

Tell someone you’re not drinking anymore and they ask if you’re pregnant or being dramatic.

We laugh off the damage.

We mock sobriety.

We glamorize brain poison in glitter cans and call it “self-care.”

But the truth is… it’s stealing from us. Slowly.

It Was Stealing Me

It was stealing my sleep.

My clarity.

My patience.

My ability to connect, think clearly, and regulate my emotions.

And it was doing it all while telling me it was “helping.”

That’s how addiction works. It manipulates you until you believe the lie.

I was parenting on edge.

Running on empty.

And calling it normal.

Until I called it what it was:

A toxic cycle I didn’t want to pass down.

It’s Bigger Than Us

This isn’t just about feeling groggy or skipping a hangover.

This is about watching entire generations of women lose themselves to wine culture.

And then wondering why our future grandmothers are walking into dementia earlier and earlier.

Why our daughters are repeating our coping patterns.

Why our sons are growing up with emotionally distant moms.

Alcohol kills brain cells. It spikes cortisol.

It’s tied to over 200 diseases. And yet it’s celebrated.

Why?

The Mom Who Stopped

So yes, the mom who drinks is everywhere.

I was her.

But so is the one who stopped.

And I am her now.

I’m the mom who wakes up with a clear head.

The one who sits in discomfort instead of pouring over it.

The one who’s reclaiming peace, presence, and power.

And if you’re reading this thinking, “Could I stop too?”

The answer is yes.

Not because you’re broken.

But because you’re done being lied to.

I’m not better than the mom who drinks. I was the mom who drinks.

But I finally got honest about what it was doing to me and what it was stealing from my family.

And I chose to stop being the punchline of a marketing campaign.

Last Call, Mama

There’s a movement happening.

We’re unlearning.

We’re healing.

We’re finding each other.

And the beautiful thing?

You don’t have to disappear into the glass.

You can put it down.

And finally start showing up for the life you were meant to live.

-Casey