Booze is F**king Up Your Sleep, Please Don't Be Mad at Me
2025 has been a fever dream in slow motion. Full stop.
Democracy is teetering. The markets are tanking. The skies can’t decide between hurricane or heatwave. And just for fun, we’ve had four straight months of back-to-back retrogrades (astrology, for the currently confused). Cute.
So yeah, I fully understand the end-of-day pour. The glass of wine. The whiskey neat. The signal flare to your nervous system that you made it.
I see you. I am you.
I know this won’t win me any popularity contests. But if I don’t say it, who will?
As someone with rejection sensitivity dysphoria (shout-out to my inattentive ADHD crew), giving “bad” news feels like a gut punch wrapped in anxiety… well, wrapped in more gut punch. But here we go:
Alcohol is absolutely wrecking your sleep.
I know, I know—“But Lindsay, it helps me fall asleep!”
And yes, you’re technically right. That glass of cab does sedate you into sleep faster. But the problem? What comes next.
Imagine your sleep as a perfectly choreographed ballet—each stage taking its turn under the spotlight: light sleep, deep sleep, REM.
Enter alcohol, stage left: the tipsy guy who stumbles into the orchestra pit mid-performance. Sure, the curtain doesn’t drop, but the show’s most definitely ruined.
Alcohol suppresses your REM sleep—the part where your brain files memories, processes emotions, and sorts through the mess or brilliance (it hasn’t been all bad, friends) of your day.
So you’re sleeping, technically. But it’s more like nibbling on breadsticks when you signed up for the full five-course meal. You’re missing the nourishing stuff.
And that massive 3 AM wide-awake moment? That’s your body slamming the brakes on sedation and flipping to stimulation. It’s a little thing called the rebound effect. You’re left staring at the ceiling, mentally reorganizing your closet and regretting every questionable life choice since 2012.
The next morning? That groggy, low-key blah feeling? It’s not just dehydration. It’s your brain, begging for sleep it never really got.
Now listen—I’m not saying you can’t drink. (I’m not a monster.)
I love a good drink—the feeling of a wine glass in my hand, the ritual of “I’m off the clock,” the shared toast with friends.
So here’s the move: The one-drink-at-happy-hour rule.
If you’re going to drink, try to wrap it up 3–4 hours before bed. Your liver needs a little runway to process the alcohol before you tuck in. One drink = roughly one hour to metabolize. But give it a buffer. The liver starts working right away, but alcohol stays in the bloodstream and continues affecting your brain for hours. That’s why the timing matters for sleep disruption—not just blood alcohol content.
And if you’re looking to try something new? Mocktails are my current obsession.
The non-alcoholic drink scene is on fire right now. I still get the pretty glass, the layered flavors, the signal to slow down—just without the existential dread wake-up call.
My current go-to? Spicy ginger beer + lime + fresh mint + a splash of tart cherry juice. It’s got zip. It feels grown-up. It’s basically a cherry lime rickey for people who have back pain and opinions on vacuum cleaners. And I still get the satisfaction of an ice clink—minus the REM sabotage.
Look—I’m not here to shame anyone’s coping mechanisms.
This year is a damn circus, and we’re all just trying not to trip over the tightrope.
But, if your sleep’s been off lately, this might be the simplest place to start. Try three alcohol-free nights a week. See how you feel. See what shifts.
Because real talk? Better sleep isn’t a one-and-done miracle—it’s a series of small, intentional choices that build over time. And those choices? They won’t look the same for everyone.
But at its core, it’s about showing up sharper, steadier, and a little less breakable in a world that keeps trying to knock us sideways.
And that, my friend, is absolutely worth skipping that second glass for.
Rest assured (yep, I went there)—your future well-rested self will be raising a mocktail in your honor.
