30/11/2025
Walking my truth 🚶♀️
I've used alcohol in so many ways.
It's been my coping mechanism for a looooonnnggg time.
Something I hid behind, a mask, an escape, a crutch I leaned on when life felt too big.
I used it to deal with trauma, shyness, vulnerability, awkwardness… to hide my emotions, to show my emotions, to feel things, to numb things, to run from life and to cope with life.
Yes, I had fun times.
But honestly, the negative impact has run deep.
From my early teenage years onwards, drinking felt like the only way I could socialise or walk into a room full of people. I believed I could only relax, be funny, or feel “alive” if I had a drink in my hand.
I'd down a few, even a bottle of vino or more before heading out, have sneaky ones in my bag, sneak shots in at the bar and can only imagine how much dosh I have wasted on it.
I was aware of how much alcohol had become something I'd depend on and it's had been such an intricate part of my life and the cultureI I was drawn towards.
Since my first pregnancy I've had long breaks from drinking with a handful of blowouts.
I was forced to face the truth.
Every time I drank again, it reminded me of who I didn’t want to be anymore:
the anger, the sadness, the depression, the vicious side, shaped by old pain… and the awful mental and physical crash afterwards.
I had forgotten how dark that aftermath can feel. The visions of disasters, not wanting to be here, devastated, ashamed, the blackouts.
Becoming a mother changed everything.
And being pushed into massive life changes through ill health changed everything again.
Being forced to slow down and face myself through illness I realised that way of living can’t be sustainable or my way anymore. No matter what excuse I came up with for justifying it or thinking I could figure out a way or keeping in the habit somehow.
I couldn’t hide behind alcohol. I couldn’t numb out. I had to show up. I had to heal. I had to break cycles for them… and for me.
Understanding myself more, acknowledging being on the spectrum making certain situations more challenging, and seeking therapy to face the trauma threaded through my childhood and adulthood has helped me accept my choices, know my limits and understand the parts of me that are me.
From that understanding, I’ve taken steps (some tiny, some huge) towards a healthier life.
I follow sobriety groups and see so many people posting anonymously because this journey can feel so lonely, hidden, and fragile.
I understand that deeply.
The fear of slipping.
The excuses.
The shame.
The pressure.
But I’ve also made choices that brought me back to myself.
Like running my wellbeing events, guided spaces where I learned to be sober, expressive, and present.
I went from only drunk dancing next to the speaker,
to sober dancing in the dark at the back,
to now running sober dancing and wellbeing events in the light fully myself, fully present, fully alive.
I avoid the scenes that tempt me.
I listen to my limits.
I honour them.
And this year, I had my first-ever birthday completely sober for a long time.
No wine.
No crutch.
No pretending.
Just wholesome experiences and genuine joy.
And for the first time, it didn’t feel like something was missing.
It felt like freedom.
Like being a clearer, calmer, happier version of myself. The version my children deserve.
Sobriety isn’t easy.
It’s not glamorous.
It’s not a straight line.
But it is healing.
It is honest.
Whether your quietly or loudly fighting your own alcohol demons especially around Christmas, I thought turning my thoughts into a message was worth a mention publicly 💛
This photo is from a great night called Conscious Clubbing Newcastle a great sober night in the toon I think the photo is by a photographer called Bailey-Michell
I'm part of a lovely sober community. We go for cups of tea's, go for a walk or souls might pop along to one of my sessions/events sometime.
Drop me a message or private DM if you want to reach out, always available to listen. Glynis Louise Wellbeing
