When I was about 45, I decided to quit drinking alcohol. It wasn’t because I had a huge epiphany, made a New Year’s resolution, or felt that alcohol was getting in the way of my daily life. It was a lot simpler than that: I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

After one drink, I was exhausted, then had trouble staying asleep. I’d wake up cranky the next day with a horrible hangover, my skin dull and gray. One morning, I realized I didn’t like booze enough to sacrifice precious sleep and look like I’d aged five years in one night.

Before that, I’d been somewhat of a drinker. But even at the ripe age of 21, my hangovers were killers, and it’d take me a few days to recover. After having kids, I’d have an occasional glass of wine with my husband or when I went out with friends, but that’s about it (mostly because I’m such a lightweight and enjoy the taste of Diet Coke more). But when I found myself in group settings, that one-drink max always managed to rub some people the wrong way.

Without hesitation, they would ask me why. I’d be honest and say it was because I had to drive and wasn’t a huge drinker. But certain family and friends had a tough time leaving it at that. Sarcastic comments would follow: “Oh, you must think we are all a bunch of alcoholics!” or “I bet you have some rum hidden in that Coke and don’t want anyone to know.” They just couldn’t resist.

These days, most people in my life know and are supportive of my decision to avoid alcohol. It’s not something I stand on my soapbox about, either. In fact, I hardly mention it because when I do, people have a lot of questions, and I don’t really feel like responding. Somewhere along the way, “I don’t really like the way it makes me feel” stopped being a good enough answer.

Related: The Unapologetic Truth About Sober Parenting—from a Sober Mom

It’s always annoying. But let me tell you, it doesn’t compare to being a mother who doesn’t drink over the holidays. When December rolls around, some assume I am going to make an exception. I hear “it’s the holidays—loosen up!” or “treat yourself! It’s Christmas!” and “don’t you need some stress relief from all this holiday craziness?”

But the truth is, alcohol doesn’t relieve my stress, it doesn’t feel like a treat, and it doesn’t help me loosen up (even though it very much does those things for others). It actually makes my anxiety worse because it affects my sleep, it gets in the way of my exercise routine, and it makes me feel like crap.

But when you say that to someone with a drink in their hand, they often feel like you are pointing a finger at them and their choices. Or they laugh and pretty much say they don’t believe you. There’s really no way to win.

Whereas I can’t imagine saying to anyone, “Wow, you’re having another—you’re really treating yourself tonight!” my decision invites criticism and snide remarks.

What people seem to forget, especially around this time of year, is that what we eat or drink is a personal decision. And just like it’s not okay to comment on someone’s body, it’s not okay to comment on what they put into their body—or don’t. It can be a huge trigger for a lot of people, and we all know how triggers can be amplified over the holidays.

As someone who knows how judgmental things can get, my best advice is this: At the next get-together, don’t say anything at all about what anyone is drinking—unless you’re asking them if they’d like a refill.

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