9781785045608

You hold the power – now – to live this one precious life undimmed Society takes a binary view of addictive behaviours: either we have ‘a problem’, or not. But all ‘dimmer’ habits exist on a spectrum – whether it’s alcohol, social media, exercise or anything else we use to self-soothe or avoid difficult emotions.

Undimmed

‘A promising pathway of self-liberation’ Dr Gabor Maté, bestselling author of The Myth of Normal

The Eight Awarenesses for Freedom from Unwanted Habits

Cecily Mak decided to take a break from drinking when she realised that alcohol dimmed the good parts of her life along with the bad. She wanted to live her life with clarity, not avoid it. In Undimmed, she presents a revolutionary approach to transforming your relationship with habits that dim your light.

PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT

UK £17.99

I S B N 978-1-78504-560-8

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penguin.co.uk Cover images © Shutterstock Cover design by Kelly Gatesman

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Cecily Mak

The Eight Awarenesses offer a roadmap to embodying a clear life, each one offering a deeper understanding of ourselves and our choices. You’ll learn how to cultivate self-trust and heal – so you can eliminate the need to ‘dim’ at all.

Undimmed Cecily Mak Foreword by Yung Pueblo

781785 045608

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UNDIMMED

T H E E I G H T AWA R E N E S S E S FOR FREEDOM FROM U N WA N T E D H A B I T S

UNDIMMED Cecily Mak

VERMILION UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia India | New Zealand | South Africa Vermilion is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com Penguin Random House UK One Embassy Gardens, 8 Viaduct Gardens, London SW11 7BW penguin.co.uk

First published in the USA by Flatiron Books in 2026 This UK edition first published in the UK by Vermilion in 2026 1 Copyright © Cecily Mak 2026 Illustrations © Shutterstock The moral right of the author has been asserted.

This is a nonfiction book. However, to protect privacy, a few names have been changed.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems. In accordance with Article 4(3) of the DSM Directive 2019/790, Penguin Random House expressly reserves this work from the text and data mining exception.

Quote from Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami, published by Harvill Press.

Copyright © Harukimurakami Archival Labyrinth, 2002. English translation copyright, translated by Philip Gabriel © Harukimurakami Archival Labyrinth, 2005.

Reprinted by permission of The Random House Group Limited.

Typeset by Six Red Marbles UK, Thetford, Norfolk Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A. The authorised representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68 A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 9781785045608 Penguin Random House is committed to a sustainable future for our business, our readers and our planet. This book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.

To the little voice within, and the bravery it takes to hear it

CONTENTS Foreword by Yung Pueblo xi Introduction: A New Framework for Freedom 1 PART I

CHOICE SHEDDING WHAT NO LONGER SERVES

1 The First Awareness: My Life Is Better Clear 23 2 The Second Awareness: I Choose What I Consume 51

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PART II

INNER KNOWING OURSELVES

3 The Third Awareness: My Intuition Defines My Priorities 77 4 The Fourth Awareness: My Trauma Isn’t My Identity 97

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PART III

OUTER RELATING WITH OTHERS

5 The Fifth Awareness: Forgiveness and Letting Go Are on the Path to Liberation 125 6 The Sixth Awareness: I Do Not Judge or Impose My Orientations Upon Others 151

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PART IV

BEYOND HONORING WHAT MATTERS

7 The Seventh Awareness: Time Is Our Most Precious Currency 175 8 The Eighth Awareness: I Seek Ways to Support Others 195 Epilogue: Clarity as a Daily Practice 211 Afterword 217 Acknowledgments 227 Index 235

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I

’ve had the privilege of getting to know Cecily over the last few years, as a work colleague and as a real friend.

What has always struck me about the way Cecily exists is that she arrives into the moment with great presence. Not only does she carry the energy of a compassionate leader, she also welcomes vulnerability in a way that really helps others feel seen.

There is an openness to connect visible in her eyes that feels rare in this world so full of distraction and surface-level interactions.

Cecily and I are part of the small and adventurous team who built Wisdom Ventures, a venture capital firm set on scaling well-being and compassion. Our group of partners felt that there must be a way to channel capital toward creating successful businesses that intentionally do a lot of good in the world, so we took on the challenge together.

As friends, we have connected deeply around our love of meditation, the beauty of intentional relationships, and how much we enjoy living intoxicant-free lives. We have had different journeys, yet we arrived at similar and profound appreciation of self-awareness and clear-sightedness.

My own journey to living an undimmed life began after a dramatic experience with drugs that almost led to me losing my life one night. As a youth, I drank and used drugs to avoid

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the sadness, anxiety, and fear of growing up as an immigrant in intense poverty. I would party and socialize to avoid having to be alone with these painful emotions. But there was no lasting satisfaction in these distractions—just more and more damage to my body, mind, and relationships.

When my life did not end that night, it immediately became clear to me that I had to stop using alcohol and drugs and find ways to engage and process the emotions. I started being radically honest with myself about how I felt, forcing myself to sit with the unpleasant feelings. Later I found Vipassana meditation, and it has completely changed my life and reduced the heavy patterns of anxiety, sadness, and fear in my mind. In order to sit in an extended meditation course, I had to be intoxicant free for a full year. The hardest part of this was not giving up alcohol and weed but changing how I interacted with my friends, as previously we had always used these drugs to lubricate our interactions. I was worried my friendships would not survive this transition, but what I found on the other side was more realness and deeper connection. Now I love being intoxicant free and enjoy having a coffee or soda at special events.

Living undimmed has upgraded every aspect of my life, but it has especially helped to increase my creativity, advance my career, and improve all my relationships.

When Cecily started writing about her own experiences and learnings, I couldn’t help but feel excited that many people were going to benefit from her hard-earned wisdom. I am often in awe of her delivery whenever we are together, and her writing is no different. She has an ability to connect and inspire that I believe will be of service to many.

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I can’t think of a better time for her to reveal the Eight Awarenesses that she has used to change her life, because so many people are in the process of seeking accessible guidelines that can help break unwanted habits. Cecily’s mission to bring people out of impulsive, reactive, and pain-driven behaviors and into empowerment and intention is more needed than ever. She has structured this book in a brilliant way that helps the reader quickly apply the teachings in their daily life.

Undimmed is an invitation to unveil your inner light and let it elevate the world around you. I personally think being miserable is going out of style and that healing so you can reconnect with your joy and power is the way of the future.

Undimmed is making a better future possible by helping us all realize how much power we have within us and in the present moment. I feel great gratitude that Cecily has been able to overcome so much during her journey and that her resilience can serve as a beacon of inspiration.

Undimmed is for the brave explorers who are ready to look inward, into their own emotional history, and see how that connects to the shape of their current life. It’s for those who are feeling more ready than ever to break free from the past and redesign the nature of their mind and actions. May this book give you the energy and framework you need to shift old ways and create new paths forward. Remember that the peace you build within yourself is new peace that you are bringing into the world. Your healing matters immensely. Do it for yourself, and for all of us.

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INTRODUCTION A NEW FRAMEWORK FOR FREEDOM

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t was a weekend morning in March, the midpoint of that final, aching year of our marriage. Our family was piled in the car in the driveway, engine running, seat belts buckled. The kids were laughing in the back seat, their levity unshaken, but the silent air between my then-husband and me was thick with unspoken accusations, carefully rehearsed defenses, and the slow, grinding weight of grief. We were about to drive twenty minutes over the hill to the beach, drawn by the first warm weekend of the season. My heart was racing. This is supposed to be fun, I thought, but I was tense, my jaw tightened, my lips pressed tight. How am I going to spend an entire day with those I love most, unable to speak about what is weighing so heavily on my mind, in my heart?

Without thinking about it, I feigned having forgotten something inside. Mindlessly, I slipped out of the passenger seat and into the house and darted straight to our liquor cabinet. Huddled in the corner of the kitchen, I took a large shot of vodka, the burn emanating through me as the car idled

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outside, my family waiting. With a shudder from both the bitter taste and the awareness of what I was doing, I recalled my mother making a joke about the stash of small vodka bottles I frequently found in her purses as a kid: “You can’t smell vodka.”

Trotting back to the car, warmth spread through me. I already felt better, a bit looser, lighter, more relaxed. The vodka was working its quiet magic, a fleeting tonic for my invisible pain that would not go away. I believed that bit of escape from my inner storm might allow me to be more present and fun with the kids. A temporary salve for a wound I secretly feared might be too deep to heal. At the very least, a way for me to focus less on how often the boys’ dad was secretly on his phone.

You would think that this could have been my red fl ag, reaching for a shot of booze to get through a day with my family. It wasn’t. Though this only happened once, something about it felt normal.

I habitually drank “socially” to feel less, fit in, and find courage in awkward settings. Part of what distinguished my experience and inspired this work is that my journey to living alcohol-free didn’t follow a rock-bottom moment. There wasn’t a wake-up call that I can refer to as a turning point. I never drove drunk, blacked out, or made significantly regrettable decisions while drinking. Like so many, I drank like a “normal person.” Looking back, I see that moment for what it was: one of many small ways I was numbing myself, avoiding what I didn’t want to feel, making choices that were interfering with the life I authentically wanted to live. Commonplace or not, something inside didn’t want that to be my new normal.

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The Awareness Like so many, my daily use of something to soften the edges of life or distract myself from difficulties kept me in the safe middle-of-life experience. When I took an extended break from drinking, it was as if my lenses had been polished for the first time since my teens. I could see clearly for the first time in decades. Informed, empowered, and emboldened with that newfound clarity, I was eventually able to fully feel again, the beautiful and the difficult. I reacquainted myself with my intuition. I could clearly discern which relationships needed care, what my deepest priorities actually are, and, eventually, redesign a life that is a reflection of what I care more about, a life I don’t want to dull out, escape from, or simply tolerate.

Maybe you’ve never reached for a shot of vodka to get through a difficult day. Maybe your dimmer looks different— scrolling, snacking, overworking, shopping, primping, keeping busy to avoid feeling too much. Whatever it is, this book isn’t about alcohol. It’s about clarity. It’s about choosing to live fully, undimmed, breaking free from limiting or even destructive selfsoothing habits that stand between us and the life we want to live—before our habits take hold and quietly run our lives.

From There to Here Long before my first sip, I learned drinking was normal by watching others around me. In my childhood, alcohol was •

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woven into the fabric of how people relaxed, celebrated, connected, and even how they worked and measured success. The right drink was a fun or classy accompaniment to most forms of socializing in our home, while also a convenient salve to discomfort and pain, physical and beyond. At a young age, it became clear that we can—maybe even should—use substances and other habits to connect, soothe, and endure.

When I was a teen, I drank to fit in and to access elusive confidence. In my twenties, I drank to look and feel sophisticated, included, and bold. In my thirties and into my forties, a successful career woman and mom of two, I drank to unwind and silence that little voice inside me telling me that something wasn’t right—that I wasn’t good enough for the life I’d constructed around me, that my marriage was crumbling, that my career path had drifted from my values. Immersed in both a family and broader culture that not only sanctions but also encourages drinking, I self-medicated just enough to keep going, striving, and living up to all those expectations I’d architected around me. All in the name of “winding down,” “taking the edge off,” or “celebrating” as part of a daily routine. It looked and felt normal, because I grew up in a family where drinking was expected. It was the nondrinkers who were weird or who must “have a problem.”

As an adult, I’d designed a life anchored by the rituals of drinking, only participating in social and professional events that included alcohol, scheduling meetings and celebrations at bars, and maintaining a daily routine that included at least one drink before everything from dinner to meeting friends for a show. Yet I sensed these habits were working against me. I was •

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slow on weekend mornings, struggled to maintain healthy exercise and diet habits, and suffered from predictable hangovers after the occasional big night out. Further, our family finances were in a perpetual state of turmoil. We lived just slightly beyond our means month over month, fueling an endless stress and adrenaline loop. Our young kids were showing signs of stress in ways only kids do, primarily with behavior flare-ups and the occasional eyebrow-raising drawing revealing anger, sadness, or confusion.

Worse, everything looked close to perfect on the outside. I had worked hard to evolve professionally and support my family. From the outside, I had a vibrant career as a Silicon Valley start-up executive and law school professor, a beautiful little family and home in a safe neighborhood, and nice vacations with friends and family. Yet I was suffering beneath the smiles on our social media feeds and annual holiday cards, constantly feeling like I was living on an edge, barely holding it all together. My weekday mornings were groggy and rushed, a blur of too much time spent on clothes, makeup, and hair as I tried to feel confident enough to face work, all while not giving my young sons the attention they craved, documented in dozens of photos from those years of one or the other with a funny outfit or LEGO creation, taken from my “getting ready for work” perch in our bathroom. Efforts to get into a stable exercise routine persistently failed as I couldn’t manage to stick with my commitments, even simple ones like a daily walk. I found myself distracted during meetings, often replaying buzzed conversations from the night before, only to be called back into the moment when someone said my name. And though I couldn’t •

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see it at the time, I was haunted by resentment toward my late mother, who had died in a messy and tragic finale of her own version of alcoholism and depression five years earlier. I’d started to assume that feeling tired, heavy, avoidant, and perpetually anxious about almost everything was just part of life.

Plus, my marriage was falling apart.

I was absent, physically and emotionally disconnected as I charged forward with my accolades-rich career on weekdays and prioritized time with the kids on weekends. My thenhusband eventually fell in love with another woman. After a year of struggling to untangle that affair and the accompanying bundle of lies that had barely kept our marriage intact, I felt I had no other path than to pursue divorce. “Maybe you should clear your head before finalizing this decision,” a friend said.

Experience to Experiment At forty-three, six months after I’d needed a shot of vodka to get through a day at the beach with the family, I initiated our separation, the first step in our divorce process. On the same day, I committed to a thirty-day break from all intoxicants, primarily to ensure I was making and communicating decisions with a crystal-clear mind and heart. Stakes were high with the kids, as well as financially, professionally, and in our community; I didn’t want to look back with regret on any texts to anyone, signatures on life-changing documents, or decisions that were sure to impact my sons and me for years to come. I achieved that goal while also experiencing notable •

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positive change in that first month—better sleep, more energy, follow-through on nagging to-do list items, and, most of all, a newfound sense of calm. I felt more centered, more emotionally stable, and better equipped to navigate the turmoil in my life with a refreshing sense of equanimity. The steadiness itself felt intoxicating. I wanted more, so I extended this break to sixty, then ninety days.

By the end of those three months, despite plenty of social awkwardness and more time alone than I’d experienced in years, everything in my life was shifting for the better. Physically, my skin was smoother, my eyes were whiter, my sleep was sounder, and I lost some weight as my weekly walks turned into almost daily runs. Inside, I felt more present, clearheaded, and calm despite the magnitude of changes I was navigating.

Boosted with this newfound clarity and confidence, after a couple of weeks of affirmative dabbling with alcohol again, I set a goal to not drink for an entire year. About six months into this experiment, the deeper work started in earnest—because I realized I had been dimming.

As the months passed and I gradually grew more clear, relationships with those I hold dearest (including myself ) were dramatically improving as I shed my armor and experimented with a more authentic way of living. This emergent comfort with genuine vulnerability, candor, and openness contributed to deepened connections with select friends, family, and particularly my two young sons, who quickly noticed how “real” their mom felt, one of them writing years later: “She became more present. Happier.

Lighter. She talked about things differently.” The softening up was particularly significant with them.

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We also became more real with one another. One evening during this time, starting to lose my patience with the daily routine and the boys’ lack of pitching in with chores around the house, the helpful happy mom façade cracked. We had homework to do, dishes to clear, laundry to get out of the dark basement, a bathroom to put back together after all three of us had bathed, and a growing pile of sports gear, jackets, and shoes by the front door (which meant in our living space, given the small size of our hillside cottage). Stressed about pressures unfolding at work, I had a tense undertone in everything I said that evening.

“Kids, can you please help out? Mom can’t do this all by herself.” I liked to speak of myself in the third person when I wanted to emphasize that I am a person with needs too.

Neither of them looked up from their board game. I waited for a few long moments, then, leaning against the doorjamb of the bathroom, I bent my knees slowly, allowing my body to crumple into a ball on the floor. Then the tears came. I looked up to see their big eyes. Then came a pointed silence. They seemed shocked, maybe even a little scared to see their mom cry. Soon they were both at my side, petting me like I pet them when they are sad.

“I could just use a little more help around here sometimes, guys. It’s a lot for just me. Can you pitch in a bit?”

It was clear that my collapse startled them, but it also seemed to seed a step in our growing a bit closer, for they saw that I too have feelings and need a little support sometimes, especially now that I was the only adult at home when they were with me.

They became a lot more helpful around the house after that.

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These openings of vulnerability on my part gave them permission to do the same. Soon, conversations started to include more intimate revelations—confessions about fears of the dark, nervousness before speaking in front of a group at school, awkward moments around friends’ older siblings, and other details that paved the way for a new intimacy between us. Sadly, I was aware that I’d missed out on many years of this kind of connection in getting to this more present and less calculated version of myself with them and of course others too.

Dimming Versus Undimmed Dimmer is the term I use to name the unhealthy use of any behavior or substance in order to self-soothe, to avoid difficult feelings, or to seek relief from pain. These habits and behaviors dim our experiences, our relationships, our capability for impact and connection, and even ourselves. My primary dimmer of choice was alcohol, arguably the most prevalent. Over time, I’ve recognized other common dimmers in my repertoire, including productivity, perfectionism, and even certain types of generosity.

This journey revealed something deeper: I’ve come to believe after years of personal experience and research that we all dim in a variety of ways. Dimmers might be escapist use of work, media, snark, exercise, sex, shopping, drugs, or even food. This book is an invitation to develop our awareness around how and why we use these things and then to courageously listen to ourselves. What are we avoiding and •

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why? Is there a discomfort we are trying to diminish? Is there a change we should be considering? Am I living a life that is true to me? What would a freer and truer existence mean for me, my loved ones, my life ’s work and expression? And lastly, how do I reframe my relationship with my dimmer(s) of choice without accepting a label that doesn’t fit with my experience?

The use of any dimmer exists on a spectrum from abstinence to addiction, but that in-between area can also get in the way of living our best lives. By waiting until a problem such as addiction is evident, millions of people miss the opportunity to choose a life free of their unwanted habits. This includes the practice of “proving” to ourselves that we ’re not addicted if we can take an extended break before it might be more difficult to do so. The prevailing “problem” language, and the false binary it corners us in, creates a sense of powerlessness. We aren’t broken victims in need of fixing. We are human beings wired to seek relief from discomfort and pain, whether we turn to wine or media. You don’t need to be addicted for those habits to become problematic in your life.

When I took a break from drinking, it became clear that countless people were struggling in a way I had, wanting more connection, authenticity, and presence. Further, there were few resources or frameworks available for the many of us who don’t abstain but are also not addicted and in need of serious mental or physical support to shift these habits. My conviction grew that many, many people were using dimmers and wanted a change; they were dimming the hidden possibilities in their own lives.

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