I started drinking young. I was 14. That teenage curiosity to try what seemed like a symbol of maturity, freedom, rebellion. It was easy, accessible, normal. On my 18th birthday, my body responded with an alcohol coma. I thought it would be a one-off thing. But it wasn't. At 19, came another one.
For a long time, I thought alcohol was part of "living well." A good wine with appetizers. A cold dark beer to close out the afternoon. A good whisky to reward an intense week. It was a ritual. A habit. An escape.
And maybe an inheritance
In my family tree, especially on my grandfather's side, alcohol played a heavy role. A role that marks generations. And for a long time, I ignored that. But inheritances don't just disappear - either we transform them, or they repeat themselves in us.
I remember the bars in downtown São Paulo. That phase when I lived there was a sequence of drinks and meetups. The city demanded it. It was charming, seductive, chaotic and full of toasts. I was part of the scene.
But something changed
When I got to Asia, I started hearing a silence that didn't exist before. Maybe it was the time zone. Maybe the contrast. Maybe the distance. But for the first time in years, I heard myself clearly..
There, at almost 30, I put down on paper what I wanted for my 30s to 40s. A more conscious body. A cleaner mind. A more complete path. And among the goals, one: stop drinking.
Easy? No. Especially when you travel the world, meet people, have new experiences, and alcohol is part of every social ritual. But I went with guts and courage. And I kept going. One day. One month. One year.
Hoje, Today it's +600 days without alcohol
+600 days of silence instead of hangovers.
600 days of clarity instead of guilt.
+600 days where I proved to myself that I'm stronger than any inherited habit.
That's 15 years of drinking pretty regularly. And now, almost two years without a drop. This is an apology to my body. A request for reconciliation with my story. A conscious choice for life.
I didn't become a radical. I still admire a good wine, know what good whisky is, remember the flavors. But today, I know I can live without them, and that's freedom.
Maybe this is my biggest celebration: it's not about saying "never again." It's about choosing not to need it anymore.
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