Most of my adult life has revolved around music: clubs, bars, festivals, house parties – anywhere I could dance to loud music. I loved how energising and cathartic it was to get immersed in it, to lose myself a little and move my body expressively without judgment. I’d get so absorbed that I would lose track of time; once, at Burning Man, I was awake for 36 hours exploring the festival, meeting new people and partying.
When I became a DJ, these kinds of events increased. Late nights out would last until the morning. Often, they became marathon weekend sessions, which ran from Friday night to Sunday lunchtime. It wasn’t all dancing and shenanigans – there would be moments to sit around and chat with people, too. I’d be out at least three times a week. Even though I’d get tired, I would always find some way to push through to the early hours because I was scared to miss out on things. Fomo (fear of missing out) drove many of my decisions.
My work never suffered but my mental health did. I started to feel anxious and dangerously close to burnout. Consumed with self-loathing, I wanted to stop but couldn’t figure out how – until I went on a 10-day silent meditation course.
It was then that I realised the life I was living was unsustainable. But it took a while to unravel my hedonism and habitual indulgence. I went sober because I wanted to rid myself of the brain fog and fatigue I was often bogged down with.
Learning to navigate nights out without a crutch to keep me going sparked an important shift in my approach to parties and festivals. Instead of giving in to Fomo, I have learned to listen to what my body is telling me rather than ignoring the signs. Tired legs usually spark a well-earned sit down or, in some cases, I will call it a night and get myself home to bed. This kind of behaviour was unheard of between the ages of 17 and 37, when I had my last drink. Back then, I would keep going even when I was exhausted.
It hasn’t been easy, though. Being sober is hard work. Not having an easy escape can be very challenging. I had to learn how to be more confident and expressive without ingesting anything. Dancing while sober is still fun but it’s tricky dealing with how self-conscious you feel.
Responding to my body’s needs consciously and waving goodbye to Fomo have given me a real sense of stability. Every time I’ve made the decision to have an early night or given myself time to rest has reinforced my self-respect and self-love. The gradual accumulation of healthy decisions has been life-changing for me. The dancefloor has been my sanctuary for a long time. Now I can happily get my fill and go home when the time is right, without ever feeling as if I’m missing out. That peace of mind is priceless.
