It’s Saturday night and, honestly, I should be posting my money blog right now. I’ll get to that soon. But first, there’s something I need to get out of my head.

Today is day 16 sober. Sixteen days without alcohol. I do feel clearer-headed - like the fog has started to lift and I am genuinely proud of myself - but it hasn’t been all smooth sailing.

Yes, the benefits are obvious: my mind feels sharper, my body lighter, and I’m reminded constantly why drinking never really served me. But recently, my sleep has been… messy. It’s taking longer to drift off, and I keep waking up through the night. There’s been bad dreams, even a few nights of sweating. Maybe that’s hormonal - who knows.

Right now, I’m sat in bed with a mug of tea, trying to wind down.

Earlier, I visited my parents. I don’t see them as often as I should, so I’m going to make more of an effort. They just got back from Japan - they were visiting my brother - and brought home some Japanese sweets. Naturally, I ate them all as soon as I got back (and now I feel slightly sick). I’d been feeling good all day, pretty upbeat actually, but now that I’m alone with my thoughts, I feel a little low. Still, I know it’ll pass.

My friends are out tonight celebrating a joint birthday. I was meant to go. Part of me really wanted to - but I was scared that being around alcohol might tempt me. So I stayed home. Do I have FOMO? Absolutely. But deep down, I know this is the right choice for me right now. Future me better be blinking grateful for this one!

The Voice That Whispers “Just One”

The other day, something big happened at work, and I really wanted to celebrate. Then that old voice showed up - the one that whispers, “Just one drink, it’s fine, you deserve it.” And wow, it got loud. Really loud.

It’s so convincing, that voice. It knows exactly what to say.

But instead, I went to the gym. I did a spin session, felt dizzy by the end, came home, and went straight to bed. The next morning, I was so grateful I didn’t cave. But that internal tug-of-war was real. My god, it was real!

On Friday, I ran myself a bath - something I hadn’t done in ages. I realised how hard it is for me to relax without alcohol. It’s uncomfortable learning new ways to unwind, but I know I need to.

Conversations With Mum

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my childhood and how it’s shaped who I am today. When I saw my parents this afternoon, I ended up staying back to chat with Mum while Dad took the boys to the park to play football.

We started talking about what my kids might be like as teenagers, and, as conversations like this tend to, it drifted to memories of me and my siblings when we were younger.

And then mum said something that caught me off guard.

She told me that, back then, she wasn’t able to be there for us - unable to support us through what we were going through - because she had been deeply depressed.

I guess I knew this. Looking back, it’s clear that she was depressed - but hearing her actually say it out loud was different.

She told me there were times she thought about ending her life - more than once. Her eyes were teary. She said the only reason she didn’t was because my dad - in some unrelated conversation - had once said how selfish it was when someone took their own life. She didn’t want to be hated.

I’ve been thinking about it all evening. It’s deeply sad - knowing she carried that pain in silence.

I guess things were different back then. She was a GP, and she told me she couldn’t seek help because everyone knew her. There was so much stigma, and she was scared it might cost her her job.

She also told me she never felt “good enough” at work - that her perfectionism made her anxious every time a patient came through the door.

It Didn’t Start With Us

All of this has made me think a lot about generational patterns. A while ago I started reading a book called It Didn’t Start With You, which talks about how trauma and behaviour pass down through families.

My mum’s mum never talked about feelings either. Maybe she struggled with depression too - I’ll never know. But looking back, I can see how the lack of communication, the absence of affection, the perfectionism, and that constant feeling of never being good enough have quietly passed down through generations.

I can see similarities between my mum and me. I remember when I was younger, my mum asked me if I spent a lot of time in my head - and I did. It felt safer there, you know? In my late twenties I reached out for help, which became a turning point for me in many ways.

But for years, I carried a sadness I just couldn't shake. It sounds silly, but I just wanted someone to hug me and tell me everything would be okay. And maybe that’s what my mum wanted too - to be seen. For someone to really see her, hold her, and say everything would be alright. That she would be okay. That she didn’t have to face it all alone.

Breaking the Cycle

All of this has made me hyper-aware of how I show up as a parent.

I find it hard to watch someone be sad - especially my boys. If I can see they're upset, I'll jump in and try to fix it. But that’s not fair on them. Sadness is normal. They need to know it’s okay to feel that.

Thankfully, Luke balances me out - he’s good with boundaries and discipline. I’m genuinely grateful for that.

Because I can see now that the way we grew up shapes how we parent, how we love, and how we cope. And the only way to break the cycle is to be aware of it.

Feeling Everything

Being sober means facing feelings I used to numb. It’s uncomfortable. Some days it’s really uncomfortable. I can't say I enjoy it.

But I know this is what healing looks like.

It’s messy and pretty painful, but it’s real. 

And even though it doesn’t feel great right now, I can tell - deep down - that I’m growing.

So yeah… sixteen days sober. Sixteen days of actually feeling.

And maybe that’s the point. 🩷