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There's a version of drinking that doesn't look like a problem from the outside. You're not missing work. You're not drinking in the morning. You're not hiding bottles or blacking out or doing anything that would raise a red flag to the people around you. You're just drinking most nights. A glass or two of wine while you make dinner. Another while you watch TV. Maybe a third on the weekends because it's the weekend and you've earned it. And somewhere in the back of your mind,

For years I blamed perimenopause for everything. The brain fog. The poor sleep. The anxiety that hummed quietly in the background of every day. The hot flashes that woke me up at 3am. I assumed it was just hormones doing what hormones do in midlife, and I dealt with it the best I could. What I didn't realize was that the glass of wine I was pouring every evening was making every single one of those symptoms worse. Nobody told me that. And I suspect nobody told you either. Wha

It didn't happen overnight. I didn't wake up one morning after a night of heavy drinking, hungover and consumed by shame and regret, and decide I had to stop drinking or I was going to die. Instead, it was a slow burn, a growing realization that alcohol was taking more from my life than it was giving, and I was ready for something better. So I quit. This space is for women who've been feeling the same way. Hi, I'm Kara. I'm the daughter of an alcoholic father who died when I