Maybe this is your journey. If it is, I hope this can be a guide.
As I mentioned in the debut edition of Let Go or Get Dragged, this is not a column about my own sobriety. That doesn’t exist, not in any sustained sense. Instead, these words are borne of my own curiosity. What is it like to maintain constant analysis of your relationship with alcohol, especially in an industry where that interrogation is often absent, or even dissuaded?
Craft beer is full of people who struggle to manage their own drinking, and their experiences are the ones I want to amplify. At first, I was hesitant to put out a call requesting personal stories about the journey towards sobriety within the context of craft beer—but as much as I worried about sources’ vulnerability, what I’ve found is that, nearly universally, those who have struggled are eager to help the struggling.
I asked some of the people I spoke with to come forward and tell one critical story: What was the moment you realized you needed or wanted to get sober? I know there’s not a single “moment of clarity” in every person’s journey, but these collected anecdotes—shared with big-hearted sincerity from people who are either still in the beer industry or who have moved beyond it—are presented with hope.
Interviews have been lightly edited for clarity and length.
Bobby Bump
Former director of brewing operations, Right Proper Brewing Co.
“Two handles of bourbon a week, several double margs on weekends, unlimited beers, lots of weed, bloating, indigestion, acid reflux cough, night sweats, waking up at 3:33 a.m. every single night with a racing heartbeat, buying my liquor from different liquor stores so I wouldn’t feel judged, waiting for the clock to strike 5 p.m. so I would allow myself to have my first drink of the day.
I was exhausted. So tired of the consequences of drinking, so over the headache, the hangover, trying to control alcohol. Coming home to my then two-and-half-year-old daughter, watching her play and thinking that, in five to 10 years, there was a possibility I could be on my deathbed. I didn’t want her to feel like I chose alcohol over watching her grow up, so I made the decision to address my alcoholism. Sounds easier than it was.
The pandemic saved my life. With my high blood pressure and other health concerns, my doctor and I felt it was best for me to go into long-term quarantine, which meant not going to work. The disruption was exactly what I needed to break my daily cycle, and I started my sober journey on April 17, 2020.”
Karlee Kanz
Lead bartender, Tanzenwald Brewing Co.
“I always thought of myself as a ‘social drinker.’ I needed a couple of beers and a shot to work the room better, be more open. They wanted the funny Karlee, the quick-witted Karlee. They didn’t want the other Karlee. The other Karlee stuttered and fumbled with her words when a stranger talked to her.
About six months into the pandemic, I found myself waking up every day and having a drink immediately. I’d sleep all day so I could drink all night in my backyard. One day, I passed out in my shower and came to, thinking, ‘I could’ve died. I would’ve been alone.’ I immediately made a doctor’s appointment.
I never gave myself a chance to meet the real me. It felt like the biggest walk of shame of my life. The sober me was worried about heading back to my job after months of shutdowns. Luckily, I have a great support system at Tanzenwald. I work with some of the most caring and understanding people in this industry. Being able to look forward to the next day at work helped me so much in my journey. I am still a work in progress, but I’m in love with myself for the first time. Oh, and I’m still fucking hilarious sober.”
Mark LaFaro
Beer writer and bartender, Industrial Arts Brewing Co.
“What happened was that I hit rock bottom, and then, two days later, I found out that what I had thought was rock bottom was actually just a small ledge several hundred feet above rock bottom. My judgment around my relationship with alcohol was so impaired that there was little to no chance I’d have ever reached that point without hitting the kind of low that creates an ‘oh fuck’ moment instead of a ‘moment of clarity.’
I attribute some of this to the warped perception of what a ‘healthy’ relationship with alcohol looked like after so many years spent in an industry where functional alcoholism is practically celebrated, but there were plenty of other contributing factors, and ultimately, I’m the person most responsible for my actions. I’ve always wanted what sobriety has provided me so far on this journey, but in my case, it was never going to happen until I needed it. And while there were a couple of life-changing, rock-bottom moments that were the direct catalyst for my decision to pursue sobriety, there were hundreds, if not thousands of moments along the way that could’ve done the job if I had the kind of clarity that I have now.”
Brendan Kennealy
Former PR/content coordinator, Summit Brewing Co.
“I was drinking three or four beers most nights. No buzzes. No hangovers. No sleep. No patience for my small kids. As year two of the pandemic dragged on and another winter of isolation closed in, I struggled to cope with my anger. Shouting. Slamming cupboards. Swearing and throwing pillows over small inconveniences. One afternoon at a brewpub, I told my wife sometimes I wished I could go for a run and just get hit by a truck. Our daughter streaked ketchup across the walls, and we cried.
That week, I called the mental health conglomerate nearest my home and connected with a therapist. When she prescribed meds for depression and anxiety, she suggested I cut back on drinking, too. The pandemic was the problem, I told myself. Not my drinking. Then, I remember bringing the pills home from the pharmacy. How the warning on the bottle rattled me. DRINKING ALCOHOL WHILE TAKING THIS MEDICATION MAY CAUSE DANGEROUS SIDE EFFECTS. That’s when everything became very simple for me. I wanted to feel better. The medication would help. And drinking could make things much, much worse. I told myself I’d take a break for one week and see how it went. That was almost 300 days ago.”
Joe Hehl
Former marketing director, Alarmist Brewing Co.
“When you work in beer, you’re engulfed in it, professionally and socially. Alcohol was the common denominator in every facet of my life. And when you work in beer, there’s a good chance you’re not getting benefits or access to professional help. But you do get cool points. And low-fills are free.
I couldn’t pin down my moment of realization. I had been caught up in a gradual decline of my own, steadily collapsing beneath all the different hats I was wearing for the brewery. Beer was work and work was nonstop stress and anxiety. Not wanting to bring my work home with me, I’d polish off a bottle of natty wine in the name of a fun, new hobby. I’d justify adding gin to hard seltzers and eventually stopped buying vermouth for my Manhattans. I couldn’t fathom social interaction without alcohol, so I gave up being social.
My intake slowed down last year, and sometime shortly after turning 30, I gave up alcohol completely. Alcohol no longer benefitted me. I no longer wanted it to define me. Nine months of sobriety later, I’ve never been happier. And I’ve been to Cantillon. Twice.”
Lindsey Anderson
Former event and volunteer director, Insight Brewing Co.
“For almost five years, Insight was my home. I was the ‘fun coordinator.’ The months leading up to my last night drinking, I was under immense pressure. It was A Trip Around the Sun, Insight’s birthday party. These parties commanded long hours, a sharp brain, and answering a million questions.
That party was November 18, 2018. That August, I had taken the month off from drinking, and had only drank a handful of times from August to November, but each time, it felt worse. The bloating, the terrible hangxiety, the guilt, constantly letting myself down.
The day of the party, I had to be at the brewery at 8 a.m. The party was going well, but I was exhausted when 7 p.m. rolled around, so I poured a beer. And then another. And another. By 11 p.m., my shift was over, but I was hammered. I got a taxi to a friend’s house, where I woke up at 3 a.m. on her couch vaguely remembering how we got there or what had happened throughout the night. I was done. I’ll be sober four years in November, and my life is now a dream. I’m a better friend, my sleep is great, I have energy, and I do what I say I am going to do. Little me would think grown-up me is very cool.”
Peter Heidorn
Former marketing manager, Fair State Brewing Cooperative
“I needed to get sober when opening the recycling bin meant confronting cans I’d emptied the day before. I drank low-fill Fair State during the day; big IPAs rode shotgun while grinding past midnight. Counting would take two hands. I would proofread my sent messages, anxiously scanning for slurred words.
I knew what it would take to evolve from a cute taproom to a brewery distributing across Minnesota. I was asked to do a lot, and I had no boundaries. I cared so much. Assurances were unfulfilled and expertise ignored. Beer fueled my bitterness toward leadership. I began considering my existence while commuting.
A few months later, I resigned from Fair State with an alcohol dependency and what I considered a purposeless existence. I kept drinking. Two years later, it wasn’t about flavor anymore. Getting numb was the point. I was downright wasted and alone in some parking lot after a breakup. That was April 8, 2020. The three-day hangover would have killed a dinosaur.
I simply couldn’t keep going, because the aftermath was so severe. Alcohol poisoning. My stomach churned yellow bile. Then three days without drinking turned to four. Then 30. Now, nearly 900. I’m fortunate to have escaped alcohol without craving or backsliding. I don’t know why. The streak is alive, and so am I.”
