Nobody would've singled me out as having a problem with drinking, but the signs were there. I was the elite-level drinker, the professional who really put the hours into her drinking career and never missed a shift. You called me for a big night, and no wasn’t in my vocabulary. I was proud to be the Sauvignon superfan - it was part of my personality. Or so I thought.
If I’m really honest with myself, I always wanted to keep going long after everyone else was ready to call it a night.
But there’s one morning I remember so clearly. I woke up with that familiar feeling - the foggy head, the low mood, the sense of impending doom. Nothing major had happened the night before - just another evening with more wine than I’d planned and another morning of dehydration and disappointment. Memory loss was the norm at that point.
I remember thinking:
Why does this feel harder for me than it seems to for everyone else?
I didn’t want to admit it, but my relationship with alcohol felt different from everyone else’s. I wanted more and more and I never knew when to stop, so I started drinking alone instead.
I always told myself I could cut back if I wanted to. Turns out, not so much
Instead, I got stuck in the same depressing cycle for years. Vow to cut back. Slowly slip into old habits. Convince myself everything was fine.
Then question it all over again. And if that sounds exhausting, it’s because it was!
Eventually, I realised how much energy was being swallowed up just trying to function like this - hiding hangovers, pretending I was fine, justifying and recovering. Alcohol was meant to make life more fun, but it had become the opposite.
When I put down the wine long enough to see clearly, the changes were even bigger than I expected. There were the obvious things, like more clarity, energy, and better sleep. Hangxiety? I no longer knew her.
But it was more than that. I felt more patient, more steady, more confident, more... myself. If I do say so myself, I was even more fun, adventurous, and spontaneous, and rediscovered something I hadn’t even realised had been missing: my spark.
A sense of vitality, momentum, and possibility: my verve for life.