So why do we drink?
The answer isn’t complicated. We drink because we believe alcohol gives us something in return.
Relief. Relaxation. Connection. Confidence.
A pause from the pressure, a way to cope, or a way to feel more like ourselves.
But here’s the hard truth: those benefits only exist because we believe in them.
The Illusion We Don’t Question
We’re not born craving alcohol. We’re taught to associate it with pleasure, escape, fun, and relief. Over time, that association becomes automatic.
And because we’ve repeated the belief so often — and seen it modeled everywhere — it feels real.
But if alcohol actually solved what it promised to fix, wouldn’t it have done so by now?
Wouldn’t the stress be gone?
Wouldn’t the confidence be steady?
Wouldn’t the sleep, clarity, and motivation have improved?
Instead, alcohol often creates the very problems it claims to relieve. More stress. More regret. More disconnection.
And yet we keep reaching for it — not because it works, but because we believe it should.
Desire Isn’t About the Drink — It’s About the Story
At the root of our desire to drink isn’t a physical craving.
It’s a belief.
A belief that alcohol adds something to our life.
That it helps. That it matters. That it’s earned or deserved or necessary.
But what happens when we challenge that belief?
What happens when we step back and ask:
“What do I think alcohol gives me — and is that actually true?”
Belief Is the Engine — Not the Excuse
This isn’t about blame. It’s about seeing clearly.
Because when we stop treating our desire to drink as a fixed truth — and start seeing it as a story we’ve reinforced — we open the door to change.
We don’t have to force anything.
We don’t have to battle willpower or wait to hit a wall.
We just have to look at the belief that’s holding the habit in place — and see it for what it is: learned, repeated, and now ready to be unlearned.
When the Belief Fades, So Does the Pull
The moment we dismantle the belief that alcohol benefits us, something shifts.
Drinking starts to look different. The desire starts to lose its edge. The illusion begins to break.
Because when we stop believing the lie, we stop wanting the fix.
And what’s left?
Space. Clarity. Ownership.
Not because we forced it — but because we stopped feeding the story that made alcohol seem necessary in the first place.
— Brent