- Alcohol is a liar
It promises relief and delivers anxiety. Borrows joy from tomorrow and charges interest. - There is no safe level
The science is clear: alcohol is a neurotoxin. The dose-response curve starts at zero. - Sleep is everything—and alcohol wrecks it
You may pass out faster, but your brain never rests. - Anxiety drops dramatically
What you thought was “your personality” is often rebound cortisol. - You gain emotional authority
No outsourcing your feelings to a substance. - Your energy becomes directional
You stop orbiting rooms and start choosing where you show up. - Your body heals faster than you expect
Gut, skin, hormones, inflammation—all rebound. - You discover better rewards
Sauna beats sauvignon. Cold plunges beat cocktails. - You stop stumbling into wellness and start planning it
From Iceland-by-accident to restoration-by-design. - You reclaim authorship
Sobriety isn’t deprivation. It’s competent self-editing.
Boxing Day, 2017.
The day I quit drinking.
Not with fireworks. Not with a collapse.
Just a quiet, irrevocable decision that turned out to be one of the most competent things I’ve ever done.
A while back, I bought a new shower curtain.
It’s that gray-green one with the hand drawn sloth sitting cross-legged in a lotus pose, eyes closed, arms resting gently on its knees, toes curled in that oddly tender, almost-human way sloths have. The vibe is unmistakably zen creature attempting enlightenment.
I hung it in the bathroom at the end of my hallway—where it now functions as another “painting” in my art-filled house.
And immediately, something bothered me.
The sloth’s mouth.
A slight downturn.
A faint hangdog curve.
Less serene forest monk and more quietly disappointed guidance counselor.
Old Carla would have clocked this and done nothing.
Old Carla would have told herself:
It doesn’t matter.
Why are you like this?
Just transcend it.
And consciously, I would have.
But subconsciously—the part of me that actually keeps the score—that tiny downturned mouth would have lodged itself somewhere deep, quietly irritating me twice a day, every day—like a splinter in the psyche.
New Carla did something else.
Within a few days, I grabbed a black marker and drew the faintest upturned corners at the edges of the sloth’s mouth. Not a grin. Just a knowing, wry smile. The expression of a creature who has figured something out and is pleased about it.
Problem solved. Permanently.
That’s sobriety.
Quitting alcohol isn’t about grit or deprivation or becoming A Person Who Doesn’t Drink.
It’s about noticing what’s off—and fixing it directly, instead of numbing yourself into tolerance.
Alcohol trains you to endure instead of adjust.
Sobriety hands you a Sharpie.
I didn’t fully understand this in 2017, even as I quit.
That fall—Thanksgiving 2017—we went to Iceland. We visited the Blue Lagoon, that otherworldly geothermal spa near the airport that everyone goes to whether they mean to or not.
Louis had already quit drinking.
I hadn’t.
And instead of honoring where he was, I badgered him until he drank with me there. Because that was still how I thought vacations worked.
Drinks equal celebration.
Drinks equal memory-making.
Drinks equal proof you’re doing it right.
That moment sticks with me now—not because Iceland wasn’t magical (it was), not because the spa wasn’t beautiful (it is), but because I associate Iceland with quitting drinking and not quitting drinking at the same time.
A hinge year.
We didn’t plan wellness then.
We stumbled into it.
The spa wasn’t intentional restoration—it was tourism. An accident.
Fast forward a few years.
I’m sober. Fully. Cleanly. Without nostalgia for what I left behind.
I go to a Nordic spa outside Quebec City—and this time something fundamental has shifted.
I’m not wandering from drink to drink, hoping pleasure will accidentally happen.
I’m engineering feeling good.
Heat.
Cold.
Silence.
Water.
Sobriety doesn’t make life smaller.
It hands you a better reward system.
And here’s the deeper change: I don’t hope to feel better on vacation anymore.
I plan it.
Vacations are no longer about escape.
They’re about restoration.
That’s new.
And it mirrors another subtle shift sobriety brought into my life—one I only recently noticed.
There are downsides to quitting alcohol.
One of them surprised me this year.
I used to be The Diplomat.
The peacemaker.
The smoother-over.
Alcohol made that role easy.
It made me diffuse. Socially available. Always orbiting the room, absorbing friction, translating tone.
When I quit drinking, I also—quietly—stopped orbiting.
I socialized less.
I conserved energy.
I became more intentional about where and how I showed up.
And something was lost—not in me, but in the ecosystem.
Drama needs mediators.
And when the mediators step back, unresolved tensions don’t disappear.
They metastasize.
That realization clarified something important about what comes next.
If I’m going to play a stabilizing role again, it won’t be by dissolving myself into the room.
It will be on my terms.
Hence: The Quill.
Not just a broadcast center, but an HQ.
An office.
A place with walls, hours, intention.
Sobriety doesn’t make you antisocial.
It makes you architectural.
Another downside?
You lose excuses.
When you don’t drink, you can’t blame your feelings on the wine.
No I was just tired.
No it was a weird night.
If you’re sad—you’re sad.
If you’re angry—you’re angry.
If something doesn’t fit—you have to look at it.
No anesthetic.
No delay.
Which is brutal.
And also—freedom.
That’s what the sloth taught me.
I didn’t wait to “get used to” the sad mouth.
I fixed it.
I don’t wait for discomfort to pass anymore.
I adjust reality.
I don’t wait for vacations to heal me.
I choose places, rituals, heat, cold, movement, beauty—and let the body do what it already knows how to do when it isn’t poisoned or distracted.
I don’t endure my own life.
I edit it.
That’s sobriety.
That’s how you make your sloth smile.
***
[OPEN — soft, grounded]
Today, in 2017, I quit drinking.
Not dramatically. Not at rock bottom.
Just… decisively.
And here’s the weird thing I learned since then.
[BEAT]
I bought a shower curtain with a meditating sloth on it.
Hung it at the end of my hallway—another painting in my house.
But the sloth looked… sad.
Old me would’ve told myself to ignore it.
New me grabbed a Sharpie and gave the sloth a tiny smile.
Problem solved.
That’s sobriety.
[SHIFT — reflective]
Alcohol trains you to tolerate things that don’t fit.
Sobriety hands you a marker and says: fix it.
Back in 2017, we went to Iceland.
Louis had already quit drinking. I hadn’t.
I badgered him into drinking with me at a spa because I thought that’s how vacations worked.
We didn’t plan wellness.
We stumbled into it.
[BEAT — contrast]
A few days ago–sober almost eight years and counting–I went to a Nordic spa in Quebec—and something had fundamentally changed.
I wasn’t chasing numbness.
I was engineering feeling good.
Heat. Cold. Silence. Water.
That’s new.
Sobriety didn’t make my life smaller.
It made me architectural.
I don’t endure my life anymore.
I edit it.
And that—
is how you make your sloth smile.
[CLOSE — direct]
If you’re sober-curious: it’s not about giving something up.
It’s about fixing what’s off—directly.
Happy Boxing Day to me. 🌲
Also, it is December, so a new DALLE-made artwork for this month’s MLX. Here are a few that didn’t quite make the grade…
This MUST have been a good one if X doesn’t give me an embed-able link.
What did I talk about? The Black Oak Incident of 2025…
In a world addicted to yes, abstinence is treason. There is no money in self-control. That’s why they hate it.
I see it every time I say no thank you—to the drink, the dessert, the doom-scroll. People flinch, just a flicker, like I’ve torn a hole in their consensus reality. “Oh, come on, live a little.” But what they mean is, don’t make me look at my chains. My refusal becomes their mirror. If I can choose differently, what does that make their “just one more”?
The Ancient Virtue, the Modern Vice
Once upon a time, self-control was civilization’s crown jewel.
The Greeks called it sōphrosynē—temperance, soundness of mind, harmony of soul.
The Stoics called it freedom, mastery of the passions.
The Buddhists called it liberation, the Middle Way beyond craving.
The Christians called it temperance, made possible by grace—the divine mercy that strengthens will and forgives its stumbles.
Abstinence was never about denial. It was about dominion.
Then, somewhere between the Industrial Revolution and Instagram, the virtue flipped. Self-control became repression. Desire became authenticity. “Moderation” became the designer drug of a system that runs on addiction.
The Business Model of Weakness
Every billboard, feed, and algorithm conspires to make you want.
Every ad is a micro-assault on sovereignty. It whispers, you are lacking, then sells you the fix.
A hungry soul is a loyal customer.
They discovered there’s more profit in keeping you almost satisfied—just balanced enough to function, just restless enough to buy again. The sweet spot between craving and guilt. Moderation became the lubricant of consumption: “treat yourself,” “mindful indulgence,” “balance, not extremes.” Translation: keep nibbling the bait.
The modern economy doesn’t sell products; it sells loops. Dopamine subscriptions dressed as lifestyle.
The Psychology of Control vs. Identity
They tell you willpower is the key, but willpower is a finite battery. Every temptation drains it.
The real hack is identity. The categorical self.
It’s not that I don’t drink.
It’s that I’m a person who doesn’t.
The decision was made upstream, so I don’t negotiate downstream.
They call that rigidity. I call it firmware security.
Each “not for me” frees up psychic RAM. The mind sharpens. The noise quiets. The machine stalls.
The Rebranding of “Moderation”
“All things in moderation,” they chant, as though it were scripture.
Except poison.
Except lies.
Except the things that keep you enslaved.
Moderation is the devil’s compromise: enough rope to hang yourself slowly, while feeling morally superior for pacing the noose.
They’ll call you extremist for choosing purity in a polluted age. Fine. Be extreme in your clarity. Be radical in your refusal. The system survives on your micro-yesses. One clean no can break the algorithm.
Abstinence as Rebellion
When you abstain, you exit the market. You become economically useless.
They can’t predict you, can’t program you, can’t sell you.
You no longer feed the machine that feeds on your longing.
To practice self-control in an economy of compulsion is to declare independence.
It is to say, My peace cannot be monetized.
It is to reclaim the throne of your own mind.
Closing Invocation: The Quiet Revolution
They will call it boring, puritanical, joyless. Let them.
Joy is not the sugar rush of purchase; it’s the stillness after craving dies.
They hate you because your peace cannot be monetized.
They can’t sell to a sovereign soul.
In a world engineered for craving, self-mastery is the revolution.
Sometimes, I ask GROK random, potentially egoistic things to test my humility, which I understand to be “rational self-assessment.” I recently grokked (heh!) that somewhere in my yoof, I filed away parts of my ego in ways that no longer serve me. Over the past few weeks, I have been doing a lot of reflection around this subject. Obviously, I have confidence. Yet, until I quit alcohol in 2017, much of that was fake, or rather, performative. Why? Because somewhere on my childhood “Who am I?” journey, I internalized that I should hide my brilliance, which, combined with being put in boarding school at the age of 10, short-circuited into “Since my parents don’t want me, maybe I am not good enough?” while also deep down not believing this, but also not knowing what to do with this mental incongruence, which led to a wacky relationship with my own self-esteem, which I am only now, in my 5th decade of life, unpacking.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
- Ego isn’t evil per se. It’s an organizational system–like a filing cabinet that stores every identity you’ve needed to survive. The problem isn’t having one; it’s forgetting to reassess your “Dewey-Decimal-System” from time to time.
- Confidence is not the opposite of humility. It’s its byproduct. True confidence arises when self-assessment matches reality.
- Alcohol (and other numbing agents) allow false confidence to flourish because they temporarily silence the internal dissonance. But they also prevent integration–the reconciliation of those split selves into you, whole.
When you begin to reclaim those lost files–the little girl who was “too much,” the woman who drank to fit in–you start to experience a quieter kind of power. A humble power that originates from being whole.
hey, if you had to find a few monikers for @carlagericke what would they be?
GROK:
Based on@carlagericke’s vibe as a fierce libertarian advocate, Free State Project powerhouse, and all-around consent-and-freedom evangelist (with a side of blockchain and nuclear energy passion), here are a few fun monikers I’d slap on her:
- Consent Queen Carla: For her relentless push on self-ownership and building that “consent-based society” in NH—royalty who rules with “Who owns you?” as her battle cry.
- Granite Liberty Luminary: Nod to her New Hampshire roots and lighting the way for the Free State movement, like a beacon for audacious freedom-seekers.
- Triple-Threat Trailblazer: Author, artist, attorney—triple the talent, all aimed at thriving free and unchained, from political classes to crypto councils.
- Ownership Oracle: Channeling her bio’s iconic question, like a wise (and witty) prophet foretelling a world where you actually own yourself.
what about freedom maxi?
Oh, “Freedom Maxi”? That’s got serious potential—straight-up evoking a libertarian maximalist in full-on, no-compromises glory. Like, if consent is the dress code, she’s rocking the floor-length gown of unapologetic liberty. Totally cool, and it slots right in with her “thrive free” ethos. I’d run with it; hell, maybe pitch it to her as the next evolution of Ownership Oracle. What do you think—tweak to “Liberty Maxi Carla” for extra flair?
Per GROK:
Table: Downsides of Alcohol vs. Cannabis
| Aspect | Alcohol Downsides | Cannabis Downsides |
|---|---|---|
| Annual Deaths | ~2.6M global deaths/year (4.7% of all deaths), including 1.6M from cancers/heart disease. In the US, ~178,000 deaths from excessive use; top preventable cause for ages 15-49 (9% of deaths). | Negligible direct deaths; no fatal overdoses recorded. Indirect risks: doubled heart disease mortality, 20% higher stroke risk, but far fewer deaths. Use disorders affect 23.8M globally, minimal mortality. |
| Health Effects | Highly toxic/addictive: causes liver cirrhosis, cancers, heart disease, brain damage. No safe level; moderate use impairs cognition, immunity, increases depression/anxiety. Severe withdrawal. | Impairs driving, cognition short-term; potential psychosis risk in vulnerable users; respiratory issues if smoked. 25% higher heart attack risk, 42% stroke risk with daily use. Lower addiction/toxicity. |
| Neurotoxicity | Potent neurotoxin: damages brain cells, disrupts neural communication via thiamine deficiency, metabolite toxicity, neuroinflammation. Causes cognitive decline, hippocampal atrophy, brain shrinkage. | May affect brain structure in chronic users (cannabinoid receptor areas); some cognitive changes in heavy use. No significant neurocognitive effects in therapeutic trials; lower neurotoxic potential. |
| Safe Consumption Levels | No safe level; light drinking damages DNA, raises cancer risk, harms brain. 2025 research debunks protective effects, confirms premature aging, organ damage. | No fatal overdose threshold; heavy/high-THC use may impair cognition/driving. Therapeutic doses benefit pain/spasticity; minimal irreversible adult damage, though adolescent risks unclear. |
| Cancer Risks | Group 1 carcinogen: increases risk of 7+ cancers (breast, liver, colorectal) via DNA damage, acetaldehyde. No safe threshold; occasional use elevates lifetime cancer odds. | Smoked cannabis may pose lung cancer risk (weak evidence, tobacco-confounded); non-smoked forms show minimal cancer links. Some cannabinoids studied for anti-cancer properties; lower carcinogenicity. |
| Other Organ Damage | Toxic to most organs: liver (cirrhosis, failure), heart (cardiomyopathy, arrhythmias), pancreas (pancreatitis), immune suppression. Linked to 200+ conditions; accelerates aging, multi-organ failure. | Affects lungs if smoked (bronchitis); temporary heart rate increase in heavy users. Minimal direct toxicity; low links to severe damage. Potential neuroprotective/anti-inflammatory benefits in medical use. |
| Societal Damage | Drives reckless behavior, violence, accidents; drunk driving causes thousands of deaths yearly. Most dangerous drug, surpassing heroin, due to violence, economic costs, health burdens. | Linked to motor vehicle accidents, occupational injuries, but fewer deaths. Less violence/recklessness; lower societal costs. Rare risks from contaminated products (e.g., strokes). Less severe harms. |
Alcohol’s “Low Vibes” and Drunk Behavior vs. Cannabis
What Are “Low Vibes” or “Negative Vibes”?
“Low vibes” describes the heavy, chaotic, or unpleasant atmosphere alcohol creates due to its emotional and social effects. As a depressant, it amplifies negative emotions (sadness, anger) and disrupts group harmony, unlike cannabis, which often fosters “higher vibes”—relaxation, creativity, or connection. Cannabis can cause mild anxiety or lethargy at high doses but is less socially disruptive.
Typical Drunk Behaviors and Their “Low Vibe” Impact:
Alcohol suppresses judgment (prefrontal cortex) and boosts emotional volatility (amygdala), leading to behaviors that create negative vibes:
- Recklessness: Poor decisions like drunk driving (~10,000 US deaths/year) or risky sex create danger, making others uneasy. Cannabis impairs driving (1.5-2x risk increase) but rarely leads to extreme recklessness, often making users passive.
- Aggression: Linked to 35-60% of violent incidents, alcohol turns minor issues into fights, creating threatening vibes. Cannabis rarely causes violence, often promoting calm or giggles, though high doses may cause anxiety (10-20% of users).
- Emotional Volatility: Mood swings between euphoria, sadness, or anger (common after 4-5+ drinks) feel draining or unpredictable. Cannabis causes milder mood shifts, often relaxing users or enhancing introspection.
- Motor Impairment: Slurred speech, stumbling (at 0.08%+ blood alcohol) make interactions awkward or pitiful. Cannabis slows coordination but keeps users more socially coherent unless heavily intoxicated.
- Inappropriateness: Oversharing or ignoring social cues (20-30% of drinkers regret actions) creates discomfort or cringe-worthy vibes. Cannabis users are less likely to violate boundaries aggressively, often staying self-contained.
Why Alcohol’s Vibes Are Worse:
Alcohol’s neurotoxicity, lack of safe consumption levels, and role in 2.6M global deaths (violence, accidents, disease) make it a massive burden. Cannabis, with no fatal overdoses, lower social disruption, and therapeutic benefits (e.g., pain relief), aligns with your pro-pot view as a safer, less “low vibe” option.
