I worked in mental health services across the NHS and the private sector for more than three decades, with my final clinical role in forensic mental health nursing. I supported people with a wide range of mental health issues through my work. Additionally, before retirement I transitioned into lecturing at a local college, teaching health and social care, and part of my role was pastoral care for students.
During this period, and while undertaking research for my postgraduate teaching qualification, I observed many students presenting with pre‑existing or emerging mental health difficulties. I believe they used alcohol as a coping mechanism when facing these challenges, and to manage academic stress and the demands of their courses.
It was because of this that I had always been keen to share Dry January® challenge resources with the student body, as part of broader discussions on wellbeing and substance use. I myself regularly participated in the Dry January® challenge throughout my professional life. For me, it was an annual break from the hangovers and ‘hangxiety’ associated with drinking. I also knew physically, after a few days, I felt better and was sleeping better.
I retired three years ago at the age of 61. Upon retirement, I felt the combined effects of the Covid‑19 pandemic — specifically prolonged isolation and the loss of structured work routines — exacerbated underlying mental health challenges I was facing. My previous work in forensic psychiatry had exposed me to vicarious trauma, and like many practitioners, I had compartmentalised these experiences. I liken it to storing away all that trauma in a filing cabinet in my head, which was opened by the sudden reduction in social contact during the pandemic. This led to a resurgence of unresolved psychological distress.
During this period, I experienced increasingly intrusive flashbacks involving intense and violent memories, alongside dissociation and heightened hypervigilance. Despite attempting to manage these symptoms independently, I eventually developed a harmful pattern of alcohol use, employing alcohol as a means of numbing severe anxiety. It was a case of ‘physician heal thyself’ that left me wondering why, if I could help other people, I couldn’t help myself.
Ultimately, I sought mental health help and, after several consultations with my GP, I received a preliminary indication of complex post‑traumatic stress disorder. I self‑referred to Ayrshire Council on Alcohol, where I was fortunate to access a course of cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), which proved transformative. It gave me, amongst other things, a real focus. To participate fully in CBT, you have to commit to a lot of work outside the actual therapy sessions.
Since then, I have also maintained a commitment to remaining alcohol‑free, a change that has been closely linked to improvements in my mental health.
In retirement, and as part of my recovery, I have developed new interests. This includes active involvement in a local Men’s Shed, where I am now a trustee. Men’s Shed is a charity focused on reducing social isolation and promoting physical and mental wellbeing among men. The movement has provided me structure, a focus and reduced my social isolation.
I have also increased my engagement in community‑based initiatives. This includes working as a Community Champion for Alcohol Change UK. This role allows me to share knowledge and experience and contribute to an educational cause I feel strongly about.
Personally, I believe it is essential that alcohol use is more explicitly integrated into discussions about mental and physical health, particularly in relation to older and retired men. This demographic is frequently overlooked, despite being at increased risk of social isolation and harmful alcohol consumption following major life transitions such as bereavement or retirement. It is also notable that, unlike England, Scotland does not currently have a dedicated men’s health strategy.
In my volunteering as a Community Champion, I have been proud to share my knowledge on how dangerous a socially accepted toxin can be when used to excess. I have done a number of presentations, and this experience has highlighted that many individuals lack awareness of key concepts such as harmful drinking thresholds, alcohol units, and the potential risks associated with abruptly stopping alcohol use without support. I’m also wary of the misconception that the Dry January® challenge represents the entirety of Alcohol Change UK’s work, and have aimed to challenge this.
My most recent activity was organising a Dry January® community event at my local Men’s Shed, bringing people together to promote healthier choices and connection. The initiative was a collaborative effort in partnership with local hospitality chain Buzzworks. It featured food (including haggis with a sauce made using 0.0% Guinness!) and a range of alcohol‑free drinks. The purpose was to engage individuals who may be at heightened risk of alcohol‑related harm and to promote accessible, stigma‑free conversations about alcohol and wellbeing.
I am proud to now be contributing through my work as a Community Champion. Ultimately, my advice to others who might see themselves in a similar situation, in retirement or otherwise, would be that non‑judgmental help is available, that it’s important to acknowledge your personal limits, and that it’s ok not to feel ok.
