If you’ve been looking for a sober support group online, you’ve probably noticed the landscape has shifted. A few popular online sobriety communities have recently closed their doors, leaving many people wondering where to land. If that’s you, welcome — you’ve found a place.

The Luckiest Club (or TLC, as our members call us) isn’t the new kid on the block anymore. We’ve been here for more than five years, and in that time we’ve hosted more than 10,000 virtual sobriety meetings. That’s thousands of hours of connection in sobriety — thousands of moments where people showed up for each other, got real, and realized they weren’t alone.

There’s a narrative that floats around recovery spaces — sometimes spoken, sometimes just silently assumed — that the longer you’re sober, the easier it gets. That if you can just string together enough time, the hard parts will disappear. But for many of us, the truth is a little more complicated.

The work doesn’t end.

It just changes.

For those of us who have struggled with addiction, there’s one truth we often hold quietly but fiercely inside: we’ve done things we’re not proud of. We’ve hurt people, especially the ones we love. We've lied. We've disappeared. We've broken promises, trust, and sometimes even the hearts of the people who mattered most.

Getting sober means beginning the long, brave process of facing that truth. But staying sober? That’s often about learning how to stop punishing ourselves for it.

Recovery isn’t just about not drinking. It’s about reclaiming your life—and that includes learning how to live with the choices you've made without letting them define who you are now.

We talk a lot about sobriety and recovery—about the courage it takes to stop drinking, the daily work of staying sober, the challenge of rebuilding trust, relationships, and self-worth. But there's one thing we don't talk about enough: the emotional lives of men.

Yes, men have feelings, too.

It sounds obvious, but in practice, many men have been taught to believe otherwise. From a young age, they hear messages like “man up,” “don’t cry,” or “toughen up.” Vulnerability is seen as weakness. Emotional honesty is seen as dangerous. And over time, those beliefs calcify into shame, silence, and disconnection.

What began as a simple idea—to abstain from alcohol for January—has transcended its initial premise, blossoming into a profound movement. Dry January isn’t just a fleeting challenge; it’s a catalyst for introspection, self-improvement, and societal change. Freedom from alcohol starts here at The Luckiest Club.