Sorry booze, one of us had to lose: how I finally defeated my alcoholism

As Dry July nears its end and many Kiwis reassess their relationship with drinking, Paulette Crowley reflects on the role it's played in her life, and how she finally had to choose between addiction and happiness. Now working as a mental health coach helping others with their addictions, she addresses the common question: How do I know if my drinking is really a problem?

Alcohol and I always had a love-hate relationship. I was head over heels with how it made me feel confident and at ease in a world I felt I didn’t fit into. With it, everything clicked into place and made sense. I could do anything from talking to boys to studying all night, as long as I had a drink, which was probably a Miami Wine Cooler, back in the day.

I knew there was a price to pay for drinking – the hangovers, the memory blanks, the shame when I’d snogged a guy I’d never usually touch with a barge pole – but mostly, it seemed worth it. And besides, what else would I be doing? Not drinking in a culture that ran on alcohol? Without it, I wouldn’t have any friends, let alone romance. Booze was in charge of all the fun things in life and I was happy to follow along.

Life in my late teens got dramatic and it was obvious why – my drinking had landed me in the schtuk one too many times. It wasn't funny anymore. People were worried about me. Through a family member, I was introduced to the world of recovery from addiction. Could alcoholism be my problem? It had certainly affected a lot of my relatives. A stint in an Auckland rehab showed me another way to live. It was a good feeling to know that I had sorted this out so early in life.

It didn’t last long. After a year of sobriety, I charged into my 20s fuelled once again by alcohol. A stressful career in the media encouraged me to head to the bar and hit it hard. It’s what we all did to cope with deadlines, difficult relationships and have fun. Cheers to that.

I knew my problem hadn’t gone away but I figured I’d give up again when I was older, maybe around 40? For now, it was time to be young and enjoy life. That illusion came and went but increasingly, I was sick with depression, anxiety and suffered brutal hangovers. My relationships were unstable and jobs regularly tanked. It was after yet another spectacularly messy relationship breakup and facing unemployment that I finally admitted my drinking was a driving factor in my demise. I knew I had to stop, but wasn’t quite ready. I would know when it was time.

Unexpected motherhood at 29 proved to be the impetus to put down the bottle, which was easy, thanks to morning sickness. I couldn’t wait to be a sober mum and knew it was what I desperately needed. But three weeks after my daughter was born, I was back drinking. Although I controlled when I drank – always while my child was asleep – once I started, I couldn’t stop. More to the point, I didn’t want to.

That’s when I knew I was in big trouble and once again sought help, this time through a peer support network. But though I’d stay off the sauce for long periods – once for 18 months – I’d always find myself drinking again. As much as I hated booze, I also loved it in equal, if not more measures.

From the outside, no one would guess my turmoil because everything looked good – a beautiful family, a decent job, a nice home. I was a good mum, if sometimes a drunk one. Once again, society allowed my addiction to go unchecked because it supported it. It’s socially acceptable for mums to have a drink together at a playdate or children’s party. And what’s wrong with a few wines once the kids are in bed? Parenting is hard – you deserve a drink.

Behind that facade, I was crumbling. My last drink was always way after everyone else’s. I’d want to drink until there was nothing left, and preferably alone, because no way did I want to share my rosé. Increasingly, I didn’t even bother with having a drink with others - it just ruined my buzz, trying to hide much and how fast I was drinking. My mental health was shot and the cracks were starting to show. I was bloated, looked blurry around the edges, my hair was falling out and my skin was a mess. I saw alcohol take the lives of two family members, then a partner. At the age of 44, there was nowhere left to turn, I couldn't live with alcohol or without it. I knew I needed to deal with it once and for all before it took my life as well.

My doctor prescribed a medication – disulfiram – to help me stop drinking initially. Then, I turned every effort to staying sober, using all of the tools I had gathered over the years. I treated sobriety like a job, seeing an addiction counsellor every week, re-entering my peer support programme and talking to another person in sobriety every day to strengthen my resolve. My family and friends were supportive, albeit watching me closely. They’d heard it all before and any belief they had in me had been tested over the years. But this time it felt different. I never, ever wanted to drink again. A part of me knew that if I picked up again, it could kill me.

That was 10 years ago. The first couple of years were no picnic, with a lot of mental health stuff to unpack. Depression and anxiety stayed with me and required treatment. A late diagnosis of ADHD explained a lot of my struggles and also needed addressing. Slowly, sanity grew and my sobriety sustained. The benefits have been huge – much-improved health on all levels, better relationships and a serenity that I never knew existed. I love waking without the shakes, anxious about what I’d done the night before (checking my internet history always proved nightmarish), or dreading how I’d get through the day, hungover as hell. Now, my mornings are spent walking my dog at my local beach where I live on Waiheke Island. The work will get done, my kids can call on me, and I don’t feel like my life is spackled together with scotch tape. What I have now is real, solid and resilient. It’s not always a doddle – life just isn’t like that – but navigating ups and downs is far easier now that I’m sober.

These days I’m a registered mental health coach, working with people who want to get and stay sober. I’m always asked what constitutes a drinking problem, and I respond with these questions:

In my experience, if you think you have a problem with alcohol, you probably do. If you have to constantly try to control something (like alcohol) there’s a good chance it’s controlling you.

Waiheke-based Paulette Crowley has been a journalist for 30 years, focusing on health for the past 15. She's also a registered mental health coach.