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| The author (not pictured) is open about her sobriety with her teens. Charday Penn/Getty Images |
As my kids have grown into teenagers, they’ve started noticing something about me that sets me apart from many of the other adults in their lives — I don’t drink. While some parents might choose to gloss over that fact, I’ve made the deliberate choice to lean into it. I use every opportunity to talk about my sobriety, not as a lecture, but as part of my everyday life.
It wasn’t always this way. Years ago, alcohol was a built-in part of my social plans. If I was meeting up with friends, there was a good chance it involved drinks. Over time, though, I began to feel tired of the hangovers, the mental fog, and the loss of control that often followed a night out. When I occasionally took breaks from drinking, I noticed how much clearer and more present I felt — and, most importantly, how much fun I could still have without a single drop of alcohol. Eventually, I decided to give it up for good, and I’ve never looked back.
Now that my kids are in their teens, I want to pass that mindset on to them. I want them to see that you can live a full, exciting, and joyful life without drinking — but like all parents of teenagers, I’m not entirely sure my message is landing.
Modeling the Behavior I Hope They’ll Follow
Most of my friends drink, and many of our social outings happen in places where alcohol is present — bars, restaurants, parties. I don’t avoid these situations, and I don’t hide them from my teens. In fact, I think it’s important for them to see that sobriety doesn’t mean isolating yourself from the world or missing out on fun experiences. I want them to understand that you can join in, enjoy yourself, and still choose not to drink.
On a recent trip without my kids, I stayed out all night dancing. My clubbing days are long behind me, but I had an incredible time bar-hopping — sipping on mocktails and creative soda mixes at each stop. When I came home, I told my teens about it, emphasizing how much fun I’d had without drinking a drop. I even joked, “See? I’m still a lot of fun even though I don’t drink.” A friend standing nearby, drink in hand, chimed in, “Can confirm.” My teens rolled their eyes — the classic teen response — but I hope somewhere beneath that eye roll, they were hearing the real message: alcohol isn’t a requirement for a good time.
Being Honest About My Own Mistakes
Part of my approach is being open about my past — the good, the bad, and the embarrassing. My teens know that in my younger years, I drank heavily at times. I’ve told them about nights when I had to rely on others to get me home safely, about the mornings lost to hangovers, and about the moments I’m not proud of, like drinking to the point of making myself sick.
They also know I grew up in a pre-social media world, which means my youthful mistakes weren’t recorded for eternity online. I want them to understand that while I made choices I regret, they’re growing up in a different era — one where a single lapse in judgment could be captured, posted, and shared in seconds.
I don’t tell them these stories to scare them, but to be real. I’m not perfect. I made plenty of bad choices. And I want them to know they can make different ones — better ones. But I also want them to know that if they do mess up, even with alcohol, it doesn’t have to define them. It’s never too late to reassess, pull back, and make a change.
Trying to Keep the Conversation Open
When they were younger, my kids were much more open to talking about things like peer pressure. We would role-play scenarios — how to say no to drugs, alcohol, or even something like shoplifting — and they’d engage with curiosity and confidence. But now that they’re teenagers, the stakes are higher and their patience is shorter.
These days, when I try to talk about drinking, they often storm out or change the subject. I’m sure my constant reminders are annoying, but I keep trying. Even if they’re not responding in the moment, I hope they’re storing away the lessons from these conversations.
And no matter what, I’ve made them a promise: if they’re ever in a situation where they need a ride home — for any reason — I’ll come get them. No questions asked. They know that even though I hope they won’t drink, I care far more about their safety than about lecturing them in the moment.
Accepting What I Can and Can’t Control
As much as I’d like to believe my words will shape every decision they make, I know that’s not how parenting works — especially with teenagers. They’re naturally curious, and at this age, many feel invincible. I was a teen once, too. I didn’t always listen to my parents, and I don’t expect my kids to hang on my every word now.
But I do hope that somewhere inside, they’re absorbing the bigger picture: that it’s possible to be confident, happy, and socially connected without ever picking up a drink. And that if they do find themselves making mistakes, they can always choose a different path — just like I did.
In the end, I can’t make all their decisions for them. But I can live in a way that shows them another option exists. I can be living proof that sobriety doesn’t mean the end of fun, freedom, or connection. And maybe — just maybe — they’ll remember that when it matters most.
