I drank 7 vodka bottles & 30 glasses of wine a week & I...

WAKING with a jolt, my head and heart thumping, I had no idea where I was or any recollection of the night before. This had become my ‘normal’, a terrifying feeling fuelled by the bottle of vodka and several glasses of wine I’d got through the previous day.

Image Credit: The Sun [Woman in pink shirt and jeans sits on a stool with empty glasses and multiple bottles of alcohol around her.]

A once enjoyable few drinks with friends had spiralled into an alcohol addiction, but I couldn’t see it. A blackout here and there, unexplained bruises and an apology to whoever I’d fallen out with after one-too-many sambucas - I thought this was just the price you paid for a good night out.

Image Credit: The Sun [Woman holding two champagne flutes.]

As a sociable 25 year old living in London, it didn’t occur to me that it wasn’t normal at all. Nor could I see that my nights out were gradually becoming more chaotic, and that the amount I was drinking was spiralling. A couple once found me drunkenly stumbling around, miles from home, and were so worried they took me in for the night.

Image Credit: The Sun [Woman in red dress against purple background.]

Another time I fell into a table at a swanky bar, smashing drinks everywhere. The night before my 30th birthday got so wasted I hit the pavement face first, shattered a front tooth and spent the morning of my big day in a dentist’s chair. Despite dozens of incidents like these, it would be another four years before I truly twigged that my drinking was out of hand.

Image Credit: The Sun [A woman holding a glass of wine and a pack of cigarettes, surrounded by friends.]

And two more after that before I’d end up in rehab — physically addicted and completely broken by booze. Looking back, the signs that I’d become an alcoholic were always there. From my first sip of Hooch at the age of 15, I always drank to get drunk. And why not – drinking was fun!.

Image Credit: The Sun [Woman sitting at a table with a bottle of wine and an empty wine glass in front of her.]

As a teenager it felt new and exciting. At university I practically had a degree in partying. And once I entered the world of work, everyone seemed to be at it. British women are the world’s biggest female binge drinkers, according to a 2023 report by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD).

A typical night out would start with several glasses of wine or fizz, progress to shots, and often end with me the last one standing — or falling over — at the bar. Twenty-six per cent finish six drinks or more in a single sitting, at least once a month.

By my early twenties I was drinking far more than that, several times a week. I’d be out most Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights and there’d usually be a cheeky lunchtime or post-work session with colleagues, too. Boozing also played havoc with my love life. I’d get sozzled on dates to calm my nerves and partners would tire of my drunken behaviour.

More than one relationship came to an end because, in the words of one ex-boyfriend, I was “a nightmare” when I drank. I also didn’t realise at the time that I used booze to deal with every emotion. If I was happy, I drank. If I was sad or worried, I drank.

When I was 28, I suffered a vicious assault while on holiday in Thailand, and in the months that followed I used alcohol as a crutch to try and get over it. This, I now know, was the start of my relationship with alcohol turning sour. I drank to cope with what had happened, and in the meantime the blackouts and embarrassing incidents became more frequent.

I’d often end up in floods of tears at the end of a night out. I tried to kid myself that drinking was still fun, but in reality I was going into freefall. Nights out gradually turned into nights in with boxes of wine, to avoid falling over drunk or falling asleep on the night bus on the way home.

It was like trying to wrench myself out of a toxic relationship. I hated what alcohol was doing to me... but I kept going back. Hangovers would cause my anxiety to go through the roof and I started having panic attacks. I’d turn up to work hungover and sneak off to the pub at lunchtime by myself, to ‘top up’ and feel vaguely normal again.

Things only became worse when, at 31, I moved back home in a bid to sort myself out. By now my finances were a mess and my career was stalling. I clearly had a drink problem by this point but unbelievably, I still didn’t see it. I saw drinking as the solution to all the other problems I had.

And so I carried on, until one day I woke up with the shakes. Once again, I turned to alcohol to fix it. Now I’d crossed a line and there was no going back. I started carrying vodka around in water bottles to keep the shakes at bay. Before I knew it, I was drinking round the clock.

The descent from there was fast and frightening. I was fired from my job for being drunk at work. With no routine, my drinking really took off. And because I was living at home, it didn’t go unnoticed. Women are advised to drink no more than 14 units a week.

At my worst I was more than doubling that every single day — ploughing through a bottle of vodka and several glasses of wine - easily polishing off seven bottles and 30 glasses a week. Things came to a dramatic head when my mum found me unresponsive one day at home.