Replacing the Buzz with Real Pleasure

Redefining Fun, Rebuilding Dopamine, and Finding Real Fulfillment

I started drinking pretty young, around 14 or 15 years old. I went to a boarding school in a remote little town, and outside the organized curricular activities, there wasn’t a whole lot else to do. Drinking started as an act of rebellion, a way to let loose in our downtime, but it quickly became what I associated with fun.

That early link between alcohol and pleasure shaped a lot of choices that followed. It influenced the university I chose (Top 10 party school on David Letterman), the people I surrounded myself with, and the scenes I became interested in — like the rave culture.

I loved to party. But more than that, I loved being the creator of the party. I was the one hosting, curating the vibe, doing whatever I could to prolong the night.

What I craved wasn’t just the alcohol. It was the whole experience: the energy, the camaraderie, the build-up to a night that felt full of possibility.

And for a while, it worked. Or at least, it felt like it did.

But over time, the “fun” started taking more than it gave. The highs came with heavier lows. The recovery cost more than the reward.

So when I finally quit drinking, it wasn’t just the social routines that felt off. It was something deeper.

There was a void. Not just in my calendar, but in my body. Chemically, my brain didn’t know how to feel good without that shortcut. Pleasure didn’t come as easily. Even when I was doing “fun” things, they didn’t always feel fun.

I wasn’t just removing a substance. I had to completely redefine what pleasure meant to me.

For so long, fun had been synonymous with ease and escape — loud nights, lost inhibitions, and a fast track to feeling something different.

Without alcohol, I had to start from scratch. I had to figure out what I actually enjoyed. I had to learn what fun felt like when I was fully present for it, not just performing it.

The buzz I’d been chasing wasn’t gone. It had just been waiting for something more meaningful to attach itself to.

The Dopamine Disconnect

Let’s get one thing straight: dopamine isn’t the enemy.

It’s not just the “addiction chemical.” It’s the natural neurochemical behind motivation, curiosity, and reward. It’s what makes you want to climb mountains, try new things, laugh out loud at your own jokes, or finally finish that long-overdue project.

But when we drink, especially repeatedly, alcohol hijacks our dopamine system. It offers a quick, potent hit of reward without the effort or real payoff. Over time, our brains adapt. The bar gets higher. Natural pleasures don’t hit the same.

That’s why early sobriety can feel a little flat. Your brain is recalibrating. The quick hits are gone. But trust me, the real ones are on their way, and they’re so much better.

"You’re not giving up pleasure. You’re just learning to experience it in full colour, without the static."

Relearning What Fun Actually Feels Like

When drinking was the backdrop to everything — celebrations, dinner parties, holidays, nights out, nights in, even just doing the laundry — it didn’t just enhance the experience. It defined it. I stopped asking whether I was actually enjoying something. If alcohol was involved, I assumed I was. It became the lens through which I viewed fun.

Without it, everything felt… dull.

But as it turns out, alcohol wasn’t adding dimension. It was flattening my entire pleasure palette.

Sure, it dulled discomfort. But it also dulled everything else: awe, laughter, real connection. The kind of joy that only shows up when you're fully present. I wasn’t actually experiencing those moments. I was either focused on the next drink or too checked out to feel what was really happening.

Alcohol blurred the experiences that could’ve been beautiful on their own.

In recovery, we get to rebuild our definition of fun from the ground up — not in theory, but in practice.

Fun that leaves you more alive the next day, not less.
Playfulness without performance.
Joy without regret.
Experiences that energize instead of drain.

Think about the last time you laughed so hard you cried. Or got lost in a conversation. Or found yourself in that post-hike glow that makes everything taste better and feel lighter.

That’s dopamine — the real kind. The kind that builds you.

Say Yes to Real Adventure

There’s a reason adventure feels so good in sobriety, especially the kind that stretches you just beyond what feels comfortable.

Whether it’s a solo hike, a sober dance party, a cold plunge, or attending a sober retreat when the old version of you never would have put yourself out there like that — these experiences light up the brain in the exact ways alcohol used to… only without the aftermath.

When we say yes to something adventurous, we’re not just entertaining ourselves. We’re proving to ourselves:
I'm capable. I'm growing. I'm alive.

And that rewires everything.

So if you’ve been missing the rush, the pull, the sense of feeling something… consider that maybe your brain doesn’t miss alcohol. It could be your brain asking for something more meaningful — a new adventure, a deeper connection, or a stronger sense of purpose.

"The kind of buzz you're craving is still available. You just have to shift where you source it."

The Kind of Buzz That Builds You

Here’s what I know now:

You don’t need to replace alcohol with beige, boring, or “safe.”
You just need to stop confusing the easy high with the deep reward.

And yes, at first it’s uncomfortable. Especially when you’re used to instant gratification.

But the long-game payoff is worth every awkward step.

Because the more you say yes to the things that scare you or stretch you, the more your brain starts to crave growth instead of escape.

The more you lean into pleasure that doesn’t have a crash, the more vibrant, joyful, and expansive your life becomes.

So this week, try it.

Say yes to something bold. Something playful. Something that stirs your senses and leaves your nervous system proud of you.

Not because you should.
But because you can.
And because the life you’re building deserves to be felt — fully.