Sobriety in a Loud World: A Musician’s Guide to Staying True

Life at home was one thing.
Life in the music world, the world I’d built my identity around at this stage of my life was another.

Bars, clubs, weddings, late nights, crowds, celebrations…
Places where alcohol isn’t just present, it’s encouraged, expected, it defines normal for some people.

And I was about to walk back into all of it… sober.

The First Sober Gig: A Different Kind of Stage Fright

People often ask me, “How did you stay true to your sobriety in an environment surrounded by alcohol”

Yes it was nerve racking at first and I was committed to the reason why I valued my life now and remembering everyday the hard work I had done to get myself to where I am today.

Walking into a venue sober felt like walking into an arena without armour.
No buffer.
No “confidence boost.”
No haze to hide behind.

Just me, raw, clear, exposed.

The sounds felt louder.
The lights felt brighter.
The crowd felt bigger.

My palms were sweating.
My heart was racing.

It was like it was my first ever gig. Upon reflection it was my first gig for sometime being sober.

While the self doubt started to kick in, I kept reflecting back to the last couple of weeks. Very soon, it was business as usual as we started playing and then the realisation: -

I felt I was playing better.

Cleaner.
Sharper.
More connected.
More present.

Alcohol hadn’t been enhancing my performances…
It had been dulling them.

That realisation changed everything.

Navigating Triggers: The Environment vs. Your Mindset

What surprised me most wasn’t temptation —
it was how automatic the old patterns were.

• The bar staff offering me a drink as I walked in
• Friends shouting me a round without asking
• Patrons handing me glasses as a “thank you”

It was never the alcohol itself that was the challenge.
It was the muscle memory.

So I created new habits:

✔ Arrive early — avoid the pre-gig chaos

You gain control of the space before the energy shifts.

✔ Always bring your own drink

A bottle of water, a kombucha, anything familiar in your hand.
It signals “I’m good” without needing to explain.

✔ Have a clear “after gig” plan

Mine was simple:
Pack up.
Thank the staff.
Leave.
No lingering in high-risk spaces where old patterns thrived.

✔ Treat every gig as “one gig at a time”

Not forever.
Not every day.
Just this performance.

This approach gave me room to breathe.

When Music Became Better Sober

Over time, something shifted.

My playing changed.
My timing improved.
I could hear more.
Feel more.
Respond more instinctively.

I wasn’t playing to escape or impress.
I was playing to express.

There’s a different kind of freedom in performing with a clear mind.
You’re not battling your body or your thoughts.
You’re fully present.

Protecting Sobriety Isn’t Rude — It’s Survival

One of the hardest lessons wasn’t musical —
it was social.

I had to learn that:

• Leaving early wasn’t rude
• Saying no wasn’t offensive
• Turning down a drink wasn’t dismissive
• Avoiding certain people wasn’t selfish
• Protecting my sobriety wasn’t dramatic
• It was necessary

Some people understood instantly.
Some didn’t understand at all.

But sobriety teaches you this:

You don’t owe anyone access to the version of you that almost killed you.

Rebuilding Identity in a Loud World

For years, alcohol had been part of my musician persona.
Part of the culture.
Part of the night.

Removing it meant rebuilding who I was on stage — and off.

Slowly, I became:

• A musician who values discipline
• A performer who plays with clarity
• A person who finishes gigs proud, not ashamed
• Someone who could drive home with a clear head
• Someone who woke up the next morning refreshed, not regretful

Sobriety didn’t remove me from the music world.
It redefined how I moved within it.

The Quiet Drives Home

Some of my favourite memories from those early sober gigs weren’t on stage.
They were the drives home afterwards.

Windows down.
Cool air.
Music low.
Sometimes talking.
Sometimes thinking.
Sometimes just letting the silence exist.

Those drives became my decompression, my grounding, my proof that sobriety wasn’t a restriction it was freedom.

Setting Up the Milestone

By the time I reached the rhythm of performing sober, something deeper had shifted inside me:

I wasn’t living one day at a time anymore.
I was living one choice at a time.

And that’s how I got here —
2,500 days sober.

Not through perfection.
Not through pressure.
But through presence, discipline, and choice.

Part 4 is the final chapter before the celebration.
Next comes the milestone itself:

Part 5 — 2,500 Days: The Decision That Changed Everything, Starting With Me