I spent 12 years as a teacher. The reliable one. The one who held everything together.
Except in the evenings, when I’d slowly come undone.
My drinking didn’t look “bad.” It looked normal.
But it didn’t feel normal.
It felt like disappearing.
I told myself I’d stop when life calmed down.
But life never did.
Some women describe their relationship with alcohol as being in an abusive relationship, where you’re never quite sure which way is up.
I felt that too.
Alcohol would seduce me and tell me lies:
“You need to relax.”
“You’ve had a hard day.”
“You deserve a treat.”
There was always a reason to pour a glass.
Bad day, good day — I could always find an excuse.
I thought that I’d taught myself how to moderate.
To drink in a way that was socially acceptable.
But I resented its pull.
I resented its bullying tactics.
I resented its sneaky control, its promise of ‘it will be ok’.
It wasn’t ok, far from it.
Alcohol was still my ‘go to’ whenever life got demanding.
When the stress escalated, so did my drinking.
I was using alcohol to drown out difficult emotions, just to get some peace.
I felt confused and exhausted from all the games and negotiations I would play in my head every day.
Then one day, I’d literally had a gutful.
I reached the tipping point that I talk about often in my work.
I’d had enough.
I wanted my life back.
I wanted me back.
This has to stop.
That moment of honesty saved my life. I was ready to take action to turn my life around.
So…
When you tell me you’re using alcohol to cope, what you’re really saying is that you’re struggling to manage stress, overwhelm, and emotional pain.
I hear you.
I understand.
I’ve been where you are, trapped in the cycle, searching for a way out.
There is a way out.
What I Know Now
My life’s not all rainbows and unicorns. It still challenges, delights, and frustrates.
The demons?
They’re still there, lurking just offstage, waiting for a spotlight.
But I’ve built systems that keep them where they belong… backstage.
I’m more in tune with who I am and what I need.
I still carry my scars, and I’ve come to love them.
Because they’ve made me who I am.
So let me say this again — clearly:
There is a way out.
You don’t have to keep holding this on your own.
I’ve walked the path myself.
And I can help you find yours.
I’m here when you’re ready.
Book a call — let’s get you started.
Illustrations by Buckthorne