Giving up drinking was a slow, organic process for me. I had been drinking increasingly moderately for over a decade, mostly sober with a few glasses of wine at the weekend. But I increasingly felt that my body had just had enough. And the turning point came at a friend’s party, when I was still getting over a bout of Covid. I drank half a glass of prosecco and it tasted weird. I felt weird. And everything in me just said, ‘No!’

I literally felt like I was drinking poison – which, of course, I was. Research increasingly shows that any amount of alcohol, however small, is detrimental to your health. This all sounds a bit dramatic, but it just felt like an epiphany. I knew I had to make a change. At first I thought I would give it a month and see how I felt. ‘Never say never – I might have the odd drink,’ I would say, or ‘I’m just giving it up for a while and let’s see how that goes.’

But as time went on I realised that I was done. Enough. And that this was part of my spiritual journey, wanting to be calm, clear and mindful all the time. I try to live my life according to the five Buddhist precepts, one of which says, essentially, don’t drink or take drugs. And in recent years I have found that, even after one glass of wine, I just didn’t feel quite like me. I said things that felt a bit off, or clunky, or made jokes that didn’t land. And the next day I would wince at the memory, wishing I hadn’t said/done the things I had.

The rock ‘n’ roll years

A little context would be helpful. From the age of 17 I was pretty hedonistic. I grew up in north London and everyone I knew drank, partied and had a bit too much fun. And I kept being hedonistic for decades, sometimes really struggling with my drinking/excessive partying with friends, especially after traumatic events like bereavements and divorce. It was only when I retrained as a therapist, started meditating daily and met my lovely wife, Laura, that I was able put those hedonistic years (what I call the ‘rock ‘n’ roll years’) behind me.

And, although I now see all that madness through the lens of internal family systems – that the parts who drank and partied were just trying to numb my pain the only way they knew how – I still feel a deep sense of regret, even shame about it. Even though I managed to reduce my drinking to normal, moderate, middle-aged levels, something in me knew I just needed to quit.

Getting sober at 56 feels like an act of deep self-compassion. It’s been three months now and I feel great. I love being clear and fresh all the time, especially in the morning. I no longer berate myself for silly comments I made the night before. It just feels… calm. And right. I only wish I had given up sooner.

Should you quit too?

It’s important that I say here, I’m not putting pressure on anyone else to quit the booze. It’s a personal decision and we all have a different relationship with alcohol. You may drink moderately, enjoy a glass of wine with dinner sometimes, and that’s totally fine. Enjoy that Rioja!

But for people like me – with a history of childhood trauma and decades of working on my mental health – I do think sobriety is a powerful, healing choice. At 56 I’m just done with beating myself up. I have engaged in more than enough of that for one lifetime! My Critic can take a well-deserved rest too.

I still have parts which are very addictive, so have a compulsive relationship with other things – coffee, sugar, work, tech. I’m working on those, but I reckon one thing at a time. Let me bed in this newfound sober lifestyle first, because although it’s mostly easy, there are definitely wobbles and moments when it feels a bit tough. I’m off to Barcelona this weekend, which was always party central back in those crazy years, so let’s see how I manage that! I’m sure it will be fine, but it’s amazing how much context matters – being with the people you used to party with, or going to places that have somewhat hazy/regret-filled memories. It will be good to have fun and come back with brand-new, entirely clear, positive memories to replace them.

If you do struggle with addiction, to alcohol or anything else, I strongly recommend the IFS approach to treatment. It’s warm, kind and accepting – as well as offering a revolutionary way of thinking about and managing addiction of all kinds. My colleague and dear friend Claire van den Bosch is a brilliant therapist, thinker and teacher, as well as being a leading expert in this area, so do check out her site at www.atimetoheal.london

And whatever path you choose in healing your addictive processes, as they are called in IFS, I wish you love and strength on your journey,

Dan ❤️