I knew the first time I saw an order come through on my email: I was hooked on entrepreneurship.

I’d been hooked before. Alcohol, pills, food… I knew the feeling well. The rush, the desire for more. But this time, it came from hard work and service. This time, I was my own boss. And each of those email notifications represented something that I had never found at the bottom of any bottle: Freedom.

I loved my job as the editorial director for an extremely successful and well-respected wine importer in New York City. I got to travel, learn new things constantly, and collaborate with brilliant people. I was even growing into running my own department. I loved my booze-filled job until I realized that it was killing me.

I carefully crafted my 20s to be filled with seemingly glamorous positions and experiences that hid the hollow of addictive behavior that could never be filled. By the time I landed in the wine industry, I had a hefty drinking habit that I was happy to justify as necessary: It was my job. Late nights at hot restaurants and all-expenses-paid trips to top vineyards were the high points in a day-to-day existence that had me sneaking into bars on my lunch break and routinely vomiting in the office bathroom.

I loved my booze-filled job until I realized that it was killing me.

I have never quite pinpointed the root of my addictive patterns, but I now know that I was suffering from anxiety and panic disorders, and that my fear of being out of control led me directly into giving up every ounce of my agency to alcohol.

One day, the third Manhattan sports bar gin-and-tonic of my liquid lunch in hand, I was finally ready to change. Call it a moment of grace — or just disgust at the well gin roiling in my stomach — but I went to a 12-step meeting that night, and began the winding journey of deconstructing my addictions.

The promises of sobriety have been delivered, and I do live a life beyond my wildest dreams. But before those dreams could be fulfilled, I had to address a giant roadblock on my road to recovery: My job in the wine industry.

If I’m being really honest with myself, my attachment to my job was a primary reason why I didn’t get sober sooner. I really loved that job. It affirmed how I saw myself, it supported me, and it validated my lifestyle and habits. I had no idea who I would be without it, and no sense of a future where alcohol wasn’t part of my daily life.

I took the advice of others who were further on the path of recovery and took it slow. I started by stopping drinking — a solid first step!

My fear of being out of control led me directly into giving up every ounce of my agency to alcohol.

After a couple of months of avoiding the social office drink and scrupulously spitting when I had to taste wine, I told my immediate boss and team. Fortunately, they were very supportive and helped me to maintain my position without complaint. But I was still in an environment where folks started drinking before lunch, and parties were a critical part of my professional development.

About seven months into my recovery, I hit a wall. I was having daily panic attacks, and frequently calling out from work because I didn’t know how to handle the stress of being surrounded by alcohol, talking about alcohol, writing about alcohol, and selling alcohol all day long. I know that many folks can handle it, but I finally felt strong enough to admit that I could not.

I talked to the owners. I tried to work something out. I tried to keep hanging onto the identity that I had tied so closely to my work and to find a compromise that would let me keep the wine lifestyle even without the wine. And then, just as quickly as I had committed to recovery over that lunchtime gin and tonic, I committed to a new future and parted ways with my dream job.

I was having daily panic attacks, and frequently calling out from work because I didn’t know how to handle the stress of being surrounded by alcohol, talking about alcohol, writing about alcohol, and selling alcohol all day long.

And then it was all sunshine and rainbows?

Not quite. It took over two years (and three relapses) to find a new balance and stability in my life. And when I found that stability, it looked nothing like I expected. Instead of finding another dream job in marketing, I created my own.

There is nothing quite like jumping from the corporate ship and starting your own business to highlight the old patterns and beliefs that drive addictive behavior. And I’ve learned quite a bit about myself and my addictions along the way to building a thriving business that actually supports my recovery.

1. The stigma is real.

After I left my job and before I committed to starting my own business, I applied for other jobs. Like, normal jobs. Jobs I was qualified for. And I started to dread the inevitable question: Why did you leave your last job? I started out being honest: I no longer drink, and that was kind of a required activity to market alcohol. The polite smiles hid the inevitable rejection to come. My honesty made people uncomfortable, and instead of being admirable, it was like hanging out a big “UNRELIABLE” neon sign that even my stunning recommendations couldn’t overcome.

I also found that leaving the service industry is harder than one may think. The stigma around the restaurant and wine industry is almost as pervasive as the stigma surrounding addiction. Culturally, we undervalue service industry workers, and in my experience, even my fancy marketing job couldn’t overcome that subconscious belief.

2. Figuring out money is hard.

Newly sober, no real job, no real plan… What could possibly go wrong? Yes, almost everything! Starting a business increased my stress and decreased my sense of control, which led me right back to addictive behaviors, especially with money. The jobs I could find were poorly paid AND required me to be in contact with alcohol — the very thing I was trying to avoid. Going from a well-paying job to no certain income forced me to get clear on my spending, and the ways that I was using money to escape.

But working to heal those patterns cracked open an entirely new relationship to money, one that is empowering rather than damaging. Having a business really forced that change, and by choosing to prioritize a healthy financial relationship with my business, I have completely shifted how I view money and no longer live in fear or compulsively overspend. The business became my anchor and my desire for it to succeed motivated me to address the challenging patterns I had lived with for much of my life.

3. Having flexibility is amazing.

The flexibility of creating my own schedule has been one of the biggest gifts of sobriety.

Staying sober, at least for me, requires maintenance. There are meetings, social relationships, and health to make time for. I am now solely responsible for how I use my time, which has enabled me to prioritize my own self-care and wellbeing.

The flexibility of creating my own schedule has been one of the biggest gifts of sobriety.

I won’t sugar coat it: It can be scary to be solely responsible for my income. But the flexibility of time has been a huge gift, enabling me to actively choose sobriety every day. And now that I’ve affirmed my ability to hold myself accountable, choose self-care, and still generate the revenue that grows my business, I wouldn’t go back. I get to decide how I spend my most precious resource of time and, after a decade of giving that up for the quick escape of drugs and alcohol, I am grounded and nourished by the fact that no one can make me stay out until 3 a.m. drinking with a winemaker for the sake of the boss’s profits. I’m my own boss, and I would much rather have meetings over coffee or at the sauna!

Choosing to shift addictive patterns highlights the ways we have woven our identities to our favorite drinks, activities, and even jobs. Especially in the food and wine industry — a safe professional home for many delightful misfits such as myself — using our jobs to define who we are means so much more than what we do during work hours. When that identity is challenged by the need to choose health over jobs and community, we may feel completely unmoored and removed from the people we have come to rely on.

But here’s the thing: Sobriety teaches us to become who we are, not who we have been told that we are or decided that we have to be. Quitting drinking necessarily led me to quit the career I spent my 20s building but quitting is what created the freedom to step into the entrepreneurial role that I may never have discovered if I had remained safely ensconced in my drunken corporate dream. It’s scary, tiring, and overwhelming, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.