The Truth About “Mommy Wine Culture” and the Myth of Alcohol as Self-Care
Q&A with author, TEDx speaker, and educator Samantha Perkins
This series showcases conversations with experts who are sober themselves and working in the recovery space. Today’s edition features
, an author, TEDx speaker, and educator. Samantha works with women and teens to help them break free from alcohol culture. In her influential workshops, she encourages people to identify how their beliefs around alcohol have been shaped by the media they consume. She helps reshape these beliefs and educates others about the damaging side effects of alcohol, beyond just addiction. Find Samantha’s newsletter at: .Your work focuses on breaking down the cultural messages around alcohol—especially ideas like “mommy wine culture” and the belief that alcohol is a form of self-care. What led you to start questioning those narratives, and how do you help others do the same?
After having my first child, I struggled to get “back to normal.” What I didn’t know then was that I was experiencing postpartum depression. I just thought that parenting was this challenging and sometimes miserable experience that moms have to face. I deeply loved my son, but I couldn’t figure out how to take care of myself and him at the same time.
I already had an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. I was a binge drinker in college, and when I became an adult, I thought it was acceptable to drink wine nightly. So, I was more than pleased when I found that many moms turned to alcohol to numb the hardships of parenting. I laughed out loud when I read memes like They Whine, I Wine, The Best Part of Parenting Is All the Wine I Get to Drink, or Boxed Wine Is Just a Juice Box for Mommy.
Unfortunately, despite my dedication to drinking in order to relax, my anxiety was growing worse. I felt terrible all the time—a mix of shame, feeling hungover, and anxiety. I had no choice but to question whether it was wine I needed or something else—like mental health treatment, help from my spouse, and a system that supports mothers (i.e., healthcare, childcare, realistic expectations of work/life balance).
I discovered that while mommy wine memes were funny, they were unhelpful. I learned about the science of how alcohol affects things like depression and anxiety and started sharing the fact that wine (or any alcohol) won’t take the edge off, but will actually make it worse. I began to share my own story and found ways to help moms realize what they actually needed in order to cope.
In Alive AF: One Anxious Mom’s Journey to Becoming Alcohol Free, you write about realizing you didn’t need to hit a traditional “rock bottom” to reevaluate your relationship with alcohol. Can you talk about what that turning point looked like for you—and what it taught you?
When my relationship with alcohol was becoming toxic, I turned to the internet for help. I typed in the Google search bar, “Am I an alcoholic?” only to be met with a series of questionnaires that said things like: Have you missed work 3 out of the last 7 days due to alcohol use? Have you gotten a DUI/fired from work/caused an accident due to your alcohol use? Do you find it hard to go long periods of time without drinking? For me, the answers to these questions were no. I was not an alcoholic.
At the time, I didn’t know anyone who had stopped drinking because of reasons like poor mental health, overall fatigue, or internalized shame and guilt. I had grown up with the idea that you’re either an alcoholic (with some kind of rock-bottom story like getting a DUI or passing out at your kid’s parent/teacher conference), or you were a “normal drinker.” Never had I heard anyone discussing their poor relationship with alcohol or not liking the way alcohol made them feel.
While I wasn’t considered clinically addicted to alcohol, my health was compromised by my drinking habits. I drank more than the recommended amount of alcohol (one drink or less per day), and over my adult life I had experienced binge drinking, blacking out, and faced negative consequences as a result of being drunk. But I ignored this and even considered it normal. Most people I knew drank regularly, and we all had hangover stories. No big deal, I thought. I couldn’t see any of the consequences I was having—daily headaches, increased anxiety, using alcohol as a coping skill, and the belief that in order for something to be fun, alcohol needed to be involved—as “worthy” of quitting. My cultural influence had taught me that unless I needed to go to rehab, I could still keep drinking.
After reading a book, though (This Naked Mind by Annie Grace), I learned about what happens in your body when you drink alcohol (not just what happens when you are addicted to alcohol). It was then that it became clear to me that my relationship with alcohol was toxic and that I needed to stop drinking.
I learned that it was more than okay for me to explore my relationship with alcohol in the same way I’d explored other things that I put in my body (like pesticides and sugars). It was okay for me to discover that alcohol was no longer working for me and was becoming an unhealthy, toxic coping mechanism. Those reasons were good enough reasons to quit drinking. I needed no further justification.
You’ve spoken about the connection between anxiety and alcohol. Can you share what you’ve learned—personally and through your work—about how the two feed into each other?
We’ve developed this idea that alcohol is something that helps us relax. Many people I know turn to alcohol to take the edge off or to lower stress. Unfortunately, alcohol doesn’t work this way.
The reason I used alcohol as a stress reliever was because, upon the first few sips, alcohol prompted my body to release feel-good chemicals. I experienced relaxation in the form of relaxed shoulders and an unclenched jaw. I thought I was entering into a state of sustained relaxation.
But almost instantly after my body produced those feel-good chemicals, it realized something had gone wrong. Those large amounts of feel-good chemicals should not have been released. So my body went to work trying to get things back in balance. In order to do this, it released stress chemicals.
These stress chemicals actually increase anxiety and stress in our bodies. This is the reason why I fell asleep peacefully after a few glasses of wine, only to wake up a few hours later with my heart pounding and my palms sweaty.
Once I discovered this, I knew my relationship with alcohol had to come to an end. Anxiety was affecting every part of my life, and I was trying so hard to find ways to cope. No amount of therapeutic techniques—meditation, exercise, or coping strategies—were going to work if I was still drinking nightly (and therefore releasing stress chemicals into my body). I was desperate to feel better, and when I finally stopped drinking, my anxiety healed dramatically.
How did your own experience with anxiety and sobriety inform the way you show up for others now? Has anything about that path surprised you?
I am an empath, and I worry about the world and the people in it. It’s probably why my anxiety got so out of control to begin with—I didn’t know how to work with this part of myself. I was becoming insecure, and I lacked confidence in myself. Sobriety led me to heal my anxiety enough that the coping practices I’d been using would actually work. Once my mental health started to heal, I gained so much confidence.
I realized that there were false beliefs I had about myself, like “I can’t handle this,” simply because I was under the wet blanket of anxiety. With sobriety, I realized I could handle feelings of stress and overwhelm—and I even learned that I could handle pain and suffering in the world. Not only could I handle it, but with sobriety, I had enough clarity to actually take action in my life.
I gained the confidence to write a book, do a TEDx talk, and speak to large groups of people—all while advocating for the things that are important to me and, hopefully, making positive change. I couldn’t have imagined being able to do any of this before sobriety.
You talk about helping young people develop “informed consent” when it comes to drinking. What does that mean to you, and why do you think it’s especially important in today’s culture?
When I started drinking, and over the course of the twenty years that I consumed alcohol, I didn’t understand how alcohol worked. I was not informed. Had I known the truth about alcohol’s impact on overall health, I like to think I would’ve opted out. But that type of information is almost impossible to find—especially if you’re not looking for it. In fact, alcohol is glamorized. We see it in shows and movies and in social media feeds as being the thing that’s fun, safe, and acceptable (as long as you’re not addicted).
The fact is, alcohol is linked to several different kinds of cancer. It disrupts every natural system in the body, from hormones to sleep to digestion. It can increase heart disease and is linked to dementia. It kills 1 in 10 people. It’s a serious drug, but our culture fails to absorb these facts. There is no labeling on alcohol bottles telling you what’s in it or what it does to your brain. There is no one telling you that it’s one of the most addictive drugs on the market. It took me a lifetime to discover these lessons, and I had to do the work myself—by asking the right questions, finding the right sources, and reading the right material. I’ve spent hundreds of hours unlearning what I thought was true of alcohol and relearning the actual facts.
To me, informed consent means learning the truth about alcohol in exactly the same way that we do with other drugs like heroin and cocaine, and then using critical thinking to determine whether or not it’s something one wants to consume. When I work with youth (or even adults), I help them learn about how media and culture shape beliefs about alcohol versus other drugs. I then help them combat these messages with facts (like, does the drunk girl in the movie really end up with the guy of her dreams, or is she more likely to have a hangover and feelings of shame?). I help them see how alcohol is marketed to young people as safe. I help them unlearn the messaging that getting drunk is “what we do,” and guide them in using mindfulness to make decisions about whether they actually want to drink—or if they are just socially conditioned to do so.
Thank you, Samantha! We’re grateful for your thoughtful responses and work in the recovery space and community.
We’d love for you (yes, you!) to share in the comments:
When did you first start questioning your relationship with alcohol?
Have you ever bought into the idea that alcohol is a way to “take care of yourself”? How did your perspective change once you quit drinking?
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I was nodding along so hard to your responses, Samantha. Thank you so much for sharing with us - and for the important, much-needed work you’re doing in the world.
Not just for mommies!! Culture needs to hear more of these sober messages. And yet when i think of sharing it in a non-sober environment, I feel awkward - there is so much pushback from people who feel they are being shamed for their innocent attempt at "self care." How to promote sobriety and at the same time bypass the implied "insult" - it's complicated!