Alcohol has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Growing up, my dad was a heavy drinker and my mum drank occasionally. We had a drinks cabinet filled with decanted spirits, and in our military environment alcohol was central to most social events. From an early age it appeared sophisticated, adult and completely normal.
My parents divorced when I was nine, and alcohol became even more present. I spent every other weekend with my dad, much of it in pubs. As a child you don’t question it, but you do absorb it, the smell of beer, the noise, the fruit machines, the sense that this is just what grown-ups do.
Looking back, I can see I was an anxious child. I worried, overthought and wanted to fit in.
When I started drinking at around 15, it felt like permission to be someone else, louder, cheekier, more confident. At first, it felt freeing. Over time, that false sense of confidence became abruptness and cheeky became irritating. Alcohol didn’t always bring out the best in me, even if I couldn’t see it then.
Leaving school in the late 90s and early 2000s, drinking culture was everywhere. Ibiza Uncovered, Trainspotting, Human Traffic, Oasis, Loaded magazine. We celebrated finishing GCSEs by going to the pub. The message was clear: when you’re young, go hard.
My life revolved around the weekend. Work existed so I could afford to go out. I drank to excess, put myself in risky situations, woke up not remembering parts of the night and even lost a tooth three times. At the time it was banter. Now I see how much danger I put myself in. When you’re drunk enough, judgement disappears.
In my twenties, working in the City of London, the pattern continued. A colleague once asked if I had bipolar disorder because my mood swung so much. I dismissed it, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. My week followed a predictable rhythm: heavy weekend, Sunday dread, Monday fog, midweek recovery, then excitement building again. Career, direction and purpose took a back seat. My ambition rarely extended beyond the next night out.
In 2015, my mum suggested I look into a life coaching certification because she could see I was struggling. During the course, one facilitator mentioned taking a month off alcohol. I couldn’t understand why someone would choose to do that. Beneath the confusion was envy. They seemed in control in a way I wasn’t.
There wasn’t one dramatic moment that made me change. It was a growing awareness of how much mental space alcohol occupied. I eventually began asking what would happen if I stopped, not forever, just to see. Reading This Naked Mind helped me understand dopamine, habit loops and reward systems. I started to see that I wasn’t broken; I was stuck in a powerful cultural and neurological pattern.
With a newfound awareness, December 2018 brought things into sharper focus. After a heavy month of social drinking, alcohol had become my default way to lift my mood. When I had to drive on Christmas Day because we’d just got a new puppy, I felt irritated about not being able to drink. It was a normal family day, yet I felt deprived.
On Boxing Day I went out with the mindset that I was owed one. I drank heavily and slipped into familiar, unhealthy behaviours. The next morning I felt uncomfortable about the direction I was heading in. I had a young family and responsibilities that didn’t sit well with the way I was still operating around alcohol.
That morning I told my girlfriend I was taking a year off drinking. A year felt manageable. I just needed space and clarity.
I haven’t gone back.
December 2018 wasn’t the most chaotic period of my drinking, but it exposed the mindset behind it. Alcohol had become transactional. If I felt I’d sacrificed, I was owed. If I felt flat, I needed it. If I went out, escalation was likely. It had shifted from fun to functional.
Life now is very different. There’s no constant negotiation about whether to drink. No build-up to the weekend. No emotional swings tied to alcohol.
Physically, I train consistently, play football and feel sharper. I sleep and eat better. Mentally, I’m calmer and clearer about what matters.
Professionally, this change reshaped my life. I now coach men who are successful on the outside but stuck in patterns that drain their energy and potential. I host The Alcohol ReThink Podcast, helping people understand and rethink their relationship with alcohol.
I’m also proud to serve as a Community Champion with Alcohol Change UK. Supporting campaigns, speaking openly about my experience and taking part in community and running events allow me to contribute to a broader cultural shift around drinking.
I didn’t need to hit rock bottom. I needed to question what I had always been told was normal.
My aim now is simple: to challenge the idea that heavy drinking is just what adults do, to support honest conversations, and to help people make conscious, informed choices rather than defaulting to expectation. Alcohol is still part of my life, but now it’s about helping others decide what role, if any, they want it to play.
