Another Wedding, Another Triumph (And Why the 9-5 is Testing Me)

First, an apology.

I missed last week's newsletter completely. Usually, I'd beat myself up about breaking the rhythm, but honestly, I needed the break. I've been working on something new behind the scenes—can't say much yet, but it's related to everything we talk about here.

Sometimes you need to step back to move forward properly.

Which brings me to this weekend's revelation.

Wedding Number Two: The Dance Floor Breakthrough

Saturday afternoon found me back in wedding attire, this time for my cousin's big day. Beautiful ceremony, emotional speeches, and me facing the dance floor challenge once again.

But something was different this time.

At the first wedding a few weeks back, I spent most of the evening strategically positioning myself, managing conversations, and carefully navigating the social dynamics of being the sober guy.

This time, I just... danced.

Around 9 PM, when the proper party music started, I found myself moving to the beat without the usual internal negotiation. No "I should probably dance now" or "This would be easier with a drink."

I just felt the music and moved.

The Two-Part Realization

Halfway through what can only be described as my best attempt at dancing to "Mr. Brightside" (yes, they played it—it's legally required at UK weddings), I had a moment of clarity that came in two parts:

Part A: Nobody was watching me anyway.

Everyone was lost in their own experience—singing along, laughing with friends, taking terrible photos. My sober dancing wasn't the spectacle I'd built it up to be in my head.

Part B: Everyone else was drunk, so they definitely didn't care.

The people who might have been judging my moves were three drinks past caring about anyone else's dance skills. They were just happy to be celebrating.

The combination was liberating.

For the first time in years, I danced because I wanted to, not because alcohol had lowered my inhibitions. I was present for the joy of movement, the connection to music, the shared celebration.

And I remembered every song.

The Work Week Reality Check

But let me rewind to why I needed that break, and why this wedding triumph felt so significant.

Work has been absolutely brutal lately.

I'm talking soul-crushing, clock-watching, "is it Friday yet?" levels of draining. The kind of weeks where you fantasize about calling in sick just to have a day where you don't hate every waking hour.

And here's the thing about work stress and sobriety:

Those mind-numbing days at the office create the exact emotional state that used to send me straight to the fridge for a beer. That "I need something to take the edge off" feeling becomes almost overwhelming when you're spending 40+ hours a week doing something that feels meaningless.

The 9-5 grind is slowly killing my spirit, and dead spirits crave numbing.

The Craving Pattern

I've started noticing a clear pattern in my alcohol cravings:

Monday morning: Fresh start, feeling optimistic, no cravings Tuesday afternoon: First hints of "this week is going to be long" Wednesday evening: Proper "I deserve a drink" thoughts starting Thursday: Peak craving time—desperately wanting something to look forward to Friday: Either triumph (made it through) or complete exhaustion leading to "celebration" thoughts

The wedding fell on a Saturday after a particularly brutal Thursday.

Usually, that combination—work stress plus social event—would have been a perfect storm for "just one drink to relax." Instead, I found myself on the dance floor, celebrating not just the happy couple, but the fact that I'd made it through another difficult week without compromising my commitment.

That dance floor became a celebration of resilience.

The Deeper Truth About Work and Drinking

Here's what I'm learning about the relationship between work dissatisfaction and alcohol cravings:

When your days feel meaningless, your evenings become about escape rather than enjoyment.

Instead of coming home excited about personal projects, relationships, or hobbies, you come home wanting to forget the day happened. Alcohol becomes the fast-forward button through the boring parts of life.

But here's the problem: The 9-5 isn't going anywhere immediately. Bills need paying, responsibilities need meeting. So the question becomes: how do you maintain sobriety when your daily reality makes you want to escape?

Saturday night's dancing gave me part of the answer.

The Joy Injection Strategy

While I was dancing to some genuinely terrible wedding DJ choices, I realized something important: I need to actively inject more joy into my weeks, not just survive them.

What worked at the wedding:

• I stopped analyzing and started participating

• I focused on the experience, not my performance

• I let myself be present for celebration, even when life feels heavy

What this means for work-week survival:

• I need pockets of genuine joy, not just stress relief

• I need to participate in my own life, not just observe it

• I need to find celebration in small things, not wait for weekends

The dancing was a reminder that joy is available even when circumstances are difficult.

This Week's Joy Injection Challenge

Whether you're dealing with work stress, life pressure, or just the general grind, try this:

Pick one evening this week and actively choose joy over escape:

Instead of collapsing into numbing activities (drinking, endless scrolling, mindless TV), try:

1. Put on music and move - even if it's just for one song

2. Do something creative - cook something special, write something, make something

3. Connect meaningfully - call someone you care about, have a proper conversation

4. Get outside - walk, breathe fresh air, change your physical environment

5. Celebrate something small - finished a difficult project, made it through a tough day, learned something new

The goal isn't to fix everything—it's to prove to yourself that joy is possible even when life is challenging.

The Wedding Wisdom

As I watched my cousin and his new wife during their first dance, I realized something profound: they weren't dancing perfectly, but they were dancing together, completely present for their moment.

That's what I want from my life—not perfection, but presence.

Work might be draining right now, but I can still choose to show up fully for the moments that matter. I can still dance badly to great music. I can still celebrate other people's happiness even when I'm struggling with my own circumstances.

And I can do all of this while staying true to my commitment to sobriety.

The 9-5 might be testing me, but Saturday night proved that I'm stronger than I think. Every sober celebration is evidence that joy doesn't require alcohol—it just requires showing up.

Hit reply and tell me:

• How does work stress affect your relationship with alcohol?

• When did you last dance like nobody was watching?

• What's one small way you could inject joy into this week?

Here's to dancing through the difficult weeks,

Paddy

P.S. That "something new" I mentioned? It's coming together nicely. Can't wait to share it with you soon.