At 39, I hit rock bottom with alcohol. This is the story of the day I finally woke up — and how it began my journey toward sobriety and self-worth.
It was the height of summer the day everything changed.
It was the fourth weekend in a row that I’d gone out and gotten utterly wasted. The three weekends before had all been all-nighters, fuelled by booze and chemicals, but my body was no longer recovering in between. I felt permanently hungover, permanently broken.
That fourth weekend, I went out early and drank so heavily that I blacked out. I couldn’t remember getting home. What I do remember is my kids. They were still up when I stumbled back, and they saw the disgusting state I was in. That image — their eyes on me, confused and disappointed — is one I will never forget.
The next morning was 3rd August 2019. I woke up feeling beyond disgusting, heavy with shame and sickness. A voice played on loop in my head: “One Year No Beer.” I’d seen the phrase on a Facebook page before, and now it wouldn’t leave me alone. It followed me through the day as I plastered on a brave face and took the kids to the fair. I tried to drown it out with two pints just to feel normal again. But deep down, I knew something had shifted.
That was the beginning of my sober curiosity. For the first time, I wanted to be alcohol-free for my 40th birthday in February. I knew I couldn’t carry on like this. So I set myself the smallest goal I could manage: one month without drinking.
The First Attempts
Those first weeks were hard, confusing, and shaky. I was two weeks in when I had to attend the funeral of a good family friend. It was packed with people I had grown up with, partied with — people I associated with drinking. I drove there on purpose, hoping it would stop me, but temptation was everywhere. I gave in to a bottle of beer. Then another.
It felt wrong. I was driving, so I stopped there, but when I got home, I caved completely and carried on drinking. The next morning, I was furious with myself. Why couldn’t I do this?
I tried again. This time, I managed nearly a month alcohol-free. But then came our wedding anniversary. We had a meal and theatre tickets booked. I promised myself I wouldn’t drink. But as soon as we sat down at the restaurant, we ordered champagne. At the theatre, I had two double vodkas. That was all — but it was enough. I woke up the next day feeling like death, defeated again.
Sober October
I decided I needed accountability, so I signed up for Sober October. I even got sponsors so I couldn’t back out. For the first time, I made it the whole month alcohol-free.
But the very next day, 1st November, I went out, got smashed, and pulled another all-nighter. I was straight back to square one. That relapse crushed me. I told myself I couldn’t do it, that I would never change. I gave up trying.
I spent my 40th birthday drunk and messy as ever. Smiling on the outside, hating myself on the inside.
Then Came Lockdown
When Covid hit, everything changed again. Suddenly we were at home, every day. There were no rules anymore, no weekend boundaries. We could drink whenever we wanted — so we did.
But homeschooling the kids, working, and drinking like that wasn’t sustainable. I hit my limit. Something in me was desperate for another chance.
On 1st June 2020, I signed up for the 28-day One Year No Beer challenge. I thought, just 28 days. I made it through — and then I extended it to 90 days.
During that third month, we hiked Mount Snowdon as a family. I will never forget standing at the peak, completely sober, feeling like a hero. Life looked shiny and new. I was experiencing things I never thought possible without alcohol. I felt alive. And for the first time, I truly believed I never wanted to go back.
The Slip
But addiction doesn’t give up easily.
In November 2020, after over five months sober, I slipped. It was horrific. One night of drinking after so long felt like a bomb going off inside me. I spiralled. In December, I planned a secret party at home. It went on until 6am. The shame afterwards was crushing.
From there, I mostly stayed sober, with a couple more big slips over the next few months. Each one broke me a little more, but also taught me something new about myself and about this fight.
Finally, on 14th May 2021, I partied all night for the last time. That was the night I admitted to myself that I was lying, pretending, hurting. I was done.
I then went on to stay sober for almost three years. For a long time, I thought the battle was finally over. But as I would later learn… sobriety is never a straight line…
Read part 2 next week…
⸻
Closing Reflection
When I look back on that messy, painful chapter of my life, one thing is clear: change doesn’t happen in one neat moment. It’s not one decision, one slip, one victory. It’s messy. It’s failure after failure, until something inside you shifts and you refuse to give up.
For me, 3rd August 2019 was the day I finally woke up. It wasn’t the day I got sober forever — but it was the day I stopped sleepwalking through my life and started fighting for something better.
And maybe that’s all any of us can do: wake up, and begin.
Follow me on instagram @idaretobeher
Leave a comment