The day I ended my relationship with alcohol.

19th of July 2019 at 2 pm was the last time I ever had an alcoholic drink (although I didn’t know it). I originally decided it was my last, just until the end of the holiday. I was sat on the beach in Cala St Vincent on the island of Ibiza. We had gone for a month, and the 19th was halfway through.

I regretted my decision the following evening when I was literally “gagging” for a large vino tinto. Still, since I had enlisted Gareth to police me, I had no choice but to follow through.

I had always had a very unhealthy relationship with alcohol and had abused it on and off for most of my adult life. When I got into my fifties, it felt like alcohol was controlling me, and I became scared that I was trapped and my ultimate fate was to end up dead from the effects of a toxic and highly addictive substance.

I was getting older but had ramped up my fitness in a lot of areas, so drinking was not very congruent with how I wanted to live my life.

As a bit of background, my partner Gareth had a very serious, life-threatening alcohol problem many years ago, and I envied his sobriety. I secretly wanted it, too, but I was frightened of failing, which was not a great place to be, so I didn’t even attempt.

Occasionally, I would have a month or six weeks off but always drifted back.

I had the usual few years of excessive partying up until I was about 22 years old, but then we had a new business to run shortly, followed by a new baby. I had about five years where I didn’t entertain it much.

What alcohol gave me was confidence.

I was a shy child who spent much of my childhood alone, with my head in a book or lying on my bed for hours with my Spirograph. I daydreamed a lot and was caught up in chaotic family dynamics.

I had no voice and felt never listened to.

Alcohol gave me that voice, and then, over the years, that voice became bigger than me.

When we got back from Ibiza, I just put another goalpost out - my birthday on the 22nd of August, then I pushed it until Christmas, by which time my health had improved, I’d lost weight, and my lifelong bouts of anxiety seemed to have completely disappeared.

I felt good; it was empowering, and I was taking charge of my health.

The first year flew by, and it got easier and easier. Now, more than five years later, I don’t even think about it. Instead of poisoning myself, I think about the money I’ve saved and spent on experiences and cool trips.

Alcohol takes and gives nothing back. I’ve yet to find someone who is “better” after a drink.”

We are led to believe that quitting is hard, and it’s just not.

Your social life does change as your drinking buddies consider you dull and drop you like a hot potato, but to be honest, there’s nothing duller than middle-aged people who should know better than to become loud, boorish and obnoxious as the night unfolds.

If anyone reading this needs to talk or needs some support with something similar - give me a shout.