May 18, 2026
Reader,
Sunday mornings used to be really hard for me.
Honestly, some of my hardest moments happened sitting in church. Which sounds strange to say out loud now because church was the place I loved, the place I wanted to be, the place where I desperately wanted peace and connection with God. But at the same time, I was quietly struggling with the shame of drinking too much.
There were Sundays I showed up to choir practice hungover. I remember feeling dizzy and nauseous, trying to keep myself together while silently praying that I wouldn’t get sick in the church bathroom. I would stand there asking God, “Please just help me make it through this service.”
I worried about whether my hands were shaking too much. I carried mints in my purse because I was afraid someone might smell alcohol on my breath from the night before. I remember the shame, the anxiety, and the heaviness that came with trying to appear “fine” on the outside while feeling completely exhausted and defeated on the inside.
And the hardest part? I loved God and I knew I was hurting Him with my habit.
That’s something I want someone reading this today to understand deeply: struggling with alcohol did not mean I didn’t love God. It didn’t mean I lacked faith. It didn’t mean I was a bad Christian.
I was stuck in a cycle I didn’t fully understand yet. A cycle of stress, coping, exhaustion, shame, and trying harder only using my own strength.
For a long time, I believed freedom would come from more willpower. More promises. More “starting over on Monday.” But what I really needed was healing at a deeper level. I needed to understand what alcohol was doing to my brain, my nervous system, my thoughts, and my body. I needed to renew my mind and learn new ways to regulate stress and emotions instead of numbing them.
And little by little, things started to change.
Today my Sundays look and feel completely different.
Now I wake up clear-headed. I can go for a walk, get a workout in, spend time with God, and walk into worship without shame hanging over me. Instead of just trying to survive the morning, I can actually be present in it. I can worship freely. I can connect with people. I can hear God more clearly because my mind and body are no longer constantly recovering.
That doesn’t mean life is perfect. But it does mean I have peace where there used to be chaos.
If you are reading this and secretly struggling, I want you to know something: you are not alone. And you are not beyond hope.
So many believers silently carry this burden because they feel ashamed to talk about it. But hiding keeps you stuck. Freedom begins when we step into honesty, support, community, and healing.
There is connection, clarity, and freedom waiting for you.
There is peace on the other side of alcohol.
There is joy on the other side of alcohol.
And you do not have to walk this journey alone.
If you’ve been thinking about making a change, I would love to invite you to reach out for a free discovery call. Sometimes the first step is simply having an honest conversation with someone who understands.
You are loved. You are seen. And freedom is possible. 🤍
"So if the son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
-John 8:36
Peace & Joy,
👉 Sign up here for a free discovery call where we can talk through where you are, what you’re struggling with, and whether the Choose Freedom™ Group Coaching or 1:1 coaching would support you in this season.
There’s no pressure—just a conversation.
For more tips and inspiration, follow me on Instagram @joyontheothersideofalcohol.
