I used to get embarrassingly drunk on New Year's Eve. Then I quit drinking

I was never the girl who enjoyed ringing in the new year at a club: being short and slender, I always felt anxious and overwhelmed in large crowds. In small groups, I obsessed that I didn’t fit in. And, since New Year’s Eve is also my birthday, the pressure to have the Best Night Ever usually became overwhelming.

So I drank. That’s what you’re supposed to do anyway, right?

Between the drinking and the anxiety, often I was in the bathroom when the clock struck twelve. Once, as the clock struck midnight, I was elbowing people out of my way trying to reach the front door in the midst of a panic attack, hapless boyfriend reluctantly in tow. Another night, I drunk-dialed a random guy I’d met online – and with whom I’d been on one (and only one) disastrous date – inviting him over and begging him to stay the night.

There was a time that I drank to relax and have fun. Then I discovered that the nervousness that crippled me at cocktail parties and the financial pressure I felt knowing I’d spent too much money on holiday gifts dissolved in my in my vodka seltzer (easy on the seltzer). I even found I could ignore the concern for my waistline when I ate that third or fourth canapé, so long as the eggnog was spiked.

When drugs and alcohol were on the scene, I was doing them. People drink to soften the edges, I often told myself – but my edges were too jagged to be smoothed away with one beer and being under the influence only made my anxieties worse. Other areas of my life deteriorated: I gained weight, I went deeper into debt and, worst of all, I made a mess of many of my relationships.

So then I got sober.

But it didn’t fix everything – let alone make for an enjoyable holiday. My first New Year’s Eve after getting sober, I was fighting with my live-in boyfriend at the time and deeply unhappy with my life. In tears, I’d locked myself in the bathroom, and cried because eight months of abstinence from alcohol had done as little to wash away my problems as drinking had.

That was seven years ago. I learned that sobriety is about more than putting down the glass – it’s about addressing the issues that made me feel like I needed the drink in the first place, which I’ve done with some assistance. But the issues still resurface every holiday

.The temptations are everywhere. From endless parties and family gatherings you feel obligated to attend, to the rich foods you regrettably indulge in, and the expensive presents you feel compelled to purchase but can’t afford, it’s a time of year engineered for consumption. For a “more” girl like me, it can be hard to say “no”. And even now, after years of sobriety, I sometimes still feel pressure to explain my history to every stranger who politely and casually offers me a glass of something.

New Year’s Eve raises even more questions: do I go out or feel left out? Do I stay at home alone and just watch the ball drop to avoid temptation? How do I deal with friends who pressure me to ring in the New Year with a glass of champagne? If I’m at a party and not drinking, what’s my excuse? I know I’m going to need one when he asks if he can get me a drink, then asks why not, then asks what it means that I’m not drinking and finally asks whether I never drink or just not tonight?

For now, I resolve all those questions for simply staying in. I celebrate my birthday in the morning with my girlfriends over brunch and, in the evening, I order in and cuddle up with my dog. I don’t go to Times Square. I don’t go to a club. I don’t eat an expensive meal. Instead, during the season of “more”, I practice a little gratitude for what I’ve finally got – namely, the good sense to know when enough is enough.

BY Melissa Petro