The January Booze

Makes sense to use up what was left over from Christmas

Last year, I decided that after an uneasy 25 year relationship with alcohol, I would finally do something about it. Of course, I’d been finally doing something about it on and off for most of those 25 years, but this time would be the one. My 50th birthday was approaching and I baulked at the idea of drifting on into my fifties still unhappy about my drinking. Enough was enough.

I had already learned a fair bit about grey area drinking and the sober curious movement, had devoured every episode of the wonderfully irreverent and hilarious podcast Sober Awkward, and more recently had stumbled across another podcast, Tribe Sober. On the eve of my big birthday I emailed its founder and presenter, Janet Gourand, pouring out my hopes, fears, and history with booze in a cringeworthy, heartfelt overshare … and was staggered when she wrote me a long, personal reply late that night. It so happened that Tribe Sober, which is a sobriety community as well as a podcast, was about to start its next 12 week Breaking Free course. I thought briefly about my many years of guiltily deleting marketing emails from Kate Bee’s Sober School (another passing fascination of mine), and how many of her courses I’d passed up because “the time wasn’t right”, or “I couldn’t spare the cash”.

I was about to turn 50. Now had to be the time.

It is hard to describe the elation and freedom I experienced the moment I signed up, the wave of which I rode throughout my birthday and over the following six weeks. I was evangelical about having cast out the demon drink; having felt stagnant in so many ways for as long as I could remember, it was as if my life had finally begun. I saw beauty and opportunity all around me; noticed the tiny things; let grudges fall away; cherished moments with friends and family … everything in and of itself, rather than being fuelled by alcohol or tainted by its undertow: “Yeah, this is great, but I’m looking forward to that drink later.”

I enjoyed mine and my husband’s joint 50th birthday party alcohol free, and although I felt nervous at first people commented that I looked “serene” and incredibly happy. Oh, the sweetness of that unmedicated authenticity. I was fully present in every moment. I connected with other people on the Breaking Free course and dived into the course materials with gusto. The joy of learning was deeply satisfying.

I know a lot about alcohol now. I know what it does to my body. I know what it does to my mind and my mood, how it exacerbates rather than alleviates anxiety and causes depression. I know what happens during a blackout (it’s terrifying, by the way) and that damage done during one binge drinking session takes over a month to repair. I know about dopamine and how alcohol throws it wildly out of whack. I know this is why many of us couldn’t imagine a night out or a holiday without booze, and envisage a life without alcohol as dull and deprived (and why we are so wrong – just observe young children enjoying a party!)

I understand how crafty and insidious the marketing around alcohol is, how Big Alcohol hijacked the feminist movement, and why, unit for unit, alcohol is far more damaging to women than to men. I know why drinking water alongside booze doesn’t hydrate and just makes you pee more, why moderation doesn’t work for most drinkers, and why, once you’ve crossed that line from blissful ignorance to the niggling doubt that maybe you might have a teensy weensy issue with the substance, it’s impossible to cross back over. It’s like trying to re-insert yourself into the Matrix.

This was where I found myself a couple of months down the line, when fading affect bias had started to set in (“I wasn’t that bad”; “loads of people drink more than I do”; “I can just have a couple at the weekend”). It’s true, I wasn’t as heavy a drinker as the others on the course. Thanks to a lifelong terror of vomiting I had the ‘off switch’ they lacked, so I rarely got drunk and never went into a blackout (state of extreme inebriation at which point memories cease to be formed).

I was (am), instead, a frequent drinker. Booze is my buzz, and the problem with that is that it starts to take the edge off other, natural buzzes that ought to be perfectly buzz-worthy in their own right. A walk in the countryside would be lovely – but even nicer if we stopped at a country pub for a pint (and I’ll have a second one too please, or at least a half – and make it Peroni or something else around the 5% mark; none of that pissy 3% stuff). A cuppa with a friend is nice, but “Shall we treat ourselves?” (taking a bottle out of the fridge) “Ooh, yes!” I would light up like a Christmas tree.

"Just a couple at the weekends ..."

This is a screenshot from my Drinkaware app, showing how my consumption increased during the second half of 2024. It’s amazing how easily we forget that alcohol is a highly addictive drug and tell ourselves we're the ones in control, we just have to try harder. Some lucky folks can moderate, no problem (if you’re one of them kindly keep it to yourself), but for many of us alcohol has no more intention of being moderated than nicotine or cocaine. It knows where our click point is - for me usually around 4-5.5 units - and won’t stop till it gets there. And it will want to do the same again tomorrow, thank you very much.

The relentless "Will I/won't I drink tonight?" dilemma is the worst part of it for me. When we learn that the former safe limit (as it’s now recognised that there is no safe limit) was only 14 units/a bottle and a half of wine per week, and that 6 units/2 large glasses of wine constitute a binge for women, it all starts to feel a little uncomfortable. And did you know that even moderate consumption contributes to 7 different types of cancer and over 60 other diseases? Just call me Debbie Downer.

I have met, listened to, learned from and been inspired by countless people who have quit booze after decades of drinking. To a person they say their lives are so much better in every way. Every. Single. Way. Their dopamine has recalibrated so they once again experience the childlike joy in simple pleasures. They are free in the truest sense. Many of them have gone on to do incredible things because sobriety has given them back their innate confidence and creativity as well as time, clarity and headspace in spades. I shared that euphoria for a short while. Then I let it go. The reason? I believe in the process - striding boldly through the 66-day awkward period until a new neural pathway is forged - I just didn’t believe in myself.

That, as Yoda would say, is why I failed. And sadly, I’m in the wrong galaxy and the wrong era to benefit much further from his wisdom.

Suggested listening: along with Tribe Sober and Sober Awkward, I’d highly recommend this episode of the Huberman Lab podcast – but only if you’re ready to step out of the Matrix. There’s no arguing with the science, and it’s a shocker.

Suggested reading: Alcohol Explained by Dr William Porter – does what it says on the tin: if you're sober curious, this is an excellent starting point.