I have done so many things that I never thought I would without the crutch of alcohol. I have been on camping holidays, travelled through not one but two of the world’s most famous wine regions, attended 6 weddings, a rave and given 3 speeches. That is to name just a few!…..

I wake up to a stranger sitting on the end of my bed putting on his socks.

“Morning”

“Oh, good morning”

I’ve never considered myself to be an alcoholic. Even though I’ve been passed out at festivals, pubs and clubs surrounded by vomit and empty beer cans since I was 14 doesn't make me that, does it?

I thought drinking rum at 10am made me a pirate? Not an alcoholic?

I’ve been away for a ‘Holiday.’ When I say the word ‘holiday’ it conjures up images of me relaxed on a sunbed sipping on a cocktail in oversized sunglasses flicking through a glossy magazine.

But a ‘holiday’ with three kids is nothing like that.

Being sober means, like me, you're probably at home, curled up on the sofa with a bar of chocolate and a cup of peppermint tea more often than you used to be. There's nothing wrong with that. (I'm actually much happier stuffing Lindt balls in my face than I was necking wines and dancing on tables.)

Shame pops up to say hello for many reasons. It can be due to trauma, low-self worth, feeling rejected, weak, unsuccessful or because of being in a toxic relationship. For me, shame was caused by alcohol. They were joined together like the evil twins from The Shining. Staring me down after each heavy session…..

I'm a classic case. A binge drinker that ignored every red flag. No matter how much they flapped, whipping me across the face, I somehow managed to push past, so I never had to address my over drinking.

I was arrested, I blew a finger off with a firework on the millennium night, I got in dangerous situations with men, I put myself at risk, I was bloated, had anxiety, people worried about me, I was always the drunkest person in the room….. shall I go on?

When life happens, stress, bills, hormones, illness and many other miserable side effects of modern life, the booze moons align, and a deep-rooted need arises in me. A yearning, that normally sits dormant under my shiny sober skin, pops up in the back of my throat, like sour vomit.

My children’s ability to make new friends is inspiring. They do it with such ease, it’s organic, a natural procedure that comes as easily to them as learning to walk. What really inspires me is that they’re themselves. No airs or graces. They don’t change their character to appease their ‘wapple,’

Does what we see as children influence our drinking habits?

In 1985, When I wasn’t stealing bounty bars from the pull out cupboard in the kitchen, you could always find me slumped on a bean bag in the lounge watching T.V. or fiddling with the coat hanger on top of my mini black and white box trying to get a signal.

Let’s face it, giving up drinking can be hard. I still find it difficult even after 2 and a half years being alcohol free. There are fleeting moments when I fancy a beer and if I see a drip of condensation dribble down the side of a chilled glass of Chardonnay, I literally have to slap myself across the face and remember that one, is not a possibility for me. Luckily, there is some tricks that make this lifestyle choice more bearable. With the right stuff backing you up... this pot-holed highway to sobriety can be little less bumpy.

Giving up drinking feels good, there’s no doubt about it. You sleep better, you eat better and you look, well...happier. But it’s not all meaningful one on ones, sunrise walks on the beach and adventure swims. There are also many unexpected downsides.

This downside has been bubbling up from within me for the past few weeks and I haven’t been able to quite put my finger on it or understand it. So, I’ve been watching myself, assessing my own behaviours in order to come up with an answer, a reason as to why I’m judging myself so much when I’m socialising and why, when I should be enjoying myself, I'm actually drowning in insecurity…..

In a world brimming with alcohol, being the one sober person sitting at the Christmas dinner table can be hard. It’s not only the obvious booze temptations that make it difficult, it’s the strain of being with family all day, the hassle that comes with cooking and wrapping presents, the humiliating games we’re forced to play and the pressure to fit in when you’re feeling on the periphery….

This feels like a huge number.

The party girl that never went home, the girl with the piss stain on her cargo pants and the Sangria flavoured vomit on her cardigan, hasn’t had a drink for over 1000 days.

A miracle.

If anyone had told me 1001 days ago that this was a possibility for me, I wouldn’t have believed them. My preoccupation with getting hammered was all encompassing. I could never have imagined a life without drinking.

Yet, here I am.

I wish I'd known you when you were a drinker.'

My paper hat is making my brow sweaty. People around me are starting to get loud and the smile plastered across my face is making my jaw ache. I think about getting up and leaving but I want everyone to think I’m still fun. So, I stay. I pick up a party blower and empty my lungs into the small plastic tip. The paper crackles as it unfurls, and I do a short rendition of Jingle Bells. I laugh along with my friends when every note sounds like a duck quack.

Before I met my husband and had children, I travelled the world. For 10 years, with nothing but a travel towel, bum-bag and passport, I wondered, hitched, trekked and meandered, mostly alone, mostly drunk. Occasionally I had a dreadlocked, tattooed booze bag hanging on my coat tails, but generally, for an entire decade, I was a nomad.

‘Come on, it’s my birthday!’ says my friend.

‘Er, no, I’m fine. I don’t drink anymore’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, one won’t hurt’

I stare down at the empty glass in my hand feeling overwhelmed.

I want to shout,

‘One will hurt. One means I will lie in bed all day and ignore my children. One means I will have anxiety and feel like dying. One means I have let myself, and my family down. One means so much. One means everything. One does fucking hurt you idiot!!’ Instead, I say,

‘No thanks, I’m fine with a juice’

I’ve worked in many jobs,

Everything from fixing fridges in a cold shed just outside Brighton, to pulling the back bones out of dead squid at a posh restaurant owned by Michael Cane. I was a waitress in one of those American style restaurants where I had to carry huge round trays of potato skins about my head (would you like 3 skins or foreskins sir?) I’ve run bars and had boring office jobs. Most of my jobs I’ve not liked. Being a person that is rubbish with authority means I felt angry having someone there, breathing down my neck. Be it a sour faced lady from accounts or a weird over-touchy guy from the customer services team that had spit in the corners of his mouth and asked me on dates. (It makes me shudder as I write.)

We live in a society that is based on quick fixes. A world where everything we crave is at our fingertips, one click away. Having such easy access to anything means our desires can be fulfilled without much effort or work, all you have to do is flip open a screen, and tap it in, whether it’s sex, shopping or therapy, it’s all available 24/7.

It's done for convenience; a fast-tracked society on the run.

This results in me feeling in a hurry.

A panic almost.