A Tale of Two Christmases

It seems to happen earlier every year.

I haven’t even got used to the darker mornings yet, especially with the glorious weather we’ve been having, and suddenly the shops are filling with Christmas decorations, festive food is appearing on the shelves and there are even radio stations playing Christmas music 24 hours a day.

With less than two months to go, it got me thinking about Christmas — and, in particular, about two Christmases in my life that couldn’t have felt more different.

The First Christmas

Two months before Christmas, my world had changed.

After 31 years of marriage, I discovered that my husband had been having an affair. I had asked him to leave the family home and suddenly the life I thought I knew — and the future I thought I had — looked completely different.

Christmas Day arrived and I was determined to make the best of it with my three adult children, my mum, the dog and the cat. The alcohol started early, with Bucks Fizz while we opened our stockings. It felt incredibly strange doing something we had always done as a family without my ex there. We had always made stockings for each other and that year, knowing there wouldn't be one from him, my daughter surprised me by making one for me instead. It was such a thoughtful thing to do, but underneath everything I remember feeling incredibly anxious and I was trying so hard not to show how sad I was.

When the pub opened, the children had arranged to meet their dad there to exchange presents while I stayed at home preparing Christmas dinner. Alcohol had always been a big part of our family celebrations. I can still remember the stomach-churning feeling as they left. It was one of those moments when the reality of how much our lives had changed suddenly hit me. Then they came home and we carried on with the "celebrating". It was strange for all of us. We continued drinking and playing Christmas games as I worked my way through the Prosecco and, on the surface, Christmas Day actually went well.

But much of it was a blur.

Alcohol helped me push down the anxiety and sadness for a few hours. I could carry on, laugh, eat Christmas dinner and try to make the day feel as normal as possible.

But the feelings hadn't disappeared. On Boxing Day, the children went to spend the day with their dad. I spent most of mine on the sofa, nursing a hangover and crying.

Looking back now, I can see that alcohol hadn't helped me cope with what was happening. It had simply allowed me to postpone feeling it.

A Decision on New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve was tough too. I didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't feel like celebrating and I certainly didn't want to pretend that everything was fine. But I remember thinking very clearly:

Next Christmas and New Year are going to be different.

That evening, I sat thinking about the year ahead. I could continue as I was, or maybe I could start doing something for me. For the first time in a while, I felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps it really would all be OK.

I started looking for something exciting I could do the following Christmas and stumbled across a trip to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. There was one detail that made it feel almost perfect. I would be summiting on New Year's Eve!

The idea of being somewhere completely different, doing something I had never imagined myself doing, gave me a feeling I hadn't experienced for a while. Excitement!

I signed up and paid my deposit there and then. At the time, I couldn't possibly have known just how significant that decision would become.

The Year in Between

It was a busy year. I was training for the London Marathon and quickly discovered that if I wanted to get out for a long training run on a Sunday morning, drinking on Saturday night really wasn't going to help.

But simply not drinking was hard because I had nothing in place to replace it. That's when I found Janey Lee Grace's online Sober Club and began connecting with other like-minded grey-area drinkers. I went on a Sober by the Sea weekend, devoured quit lit and started building my own sober toolkit. For the first time, I was seeing that there were other people out there who didn't want to drink — and not only that, they were happier and living fulfilling lives.

It wasn't always plain sailing. I still wondered whether moderation might work for me, particularly on holiday, and there were some slip-ups along the way.

But each experience taught me something and gradually my relationship with alcohol began to change.

The Following Christmas

Fast forward twelve months and my life looked very different. Apart from the odd slip-up along the way, I had almost stopped drinking. That didn't mean everything had magically fallen into place. Life wasn't suddenly perfect and I certainly hadn't worked out exactly what my future would look like while I was also now dealing with the cold hard fact of actually getting divorced.

But instead of trying to numb what I was feeling, I had started to face it. I had given myself time to focus on my wellbeing, to understand myself better and to begin discovering who I was in this new chapter of my life. Slowly, I was beginning again.

And as that second Christmas arrived, rather than wondering how much Prosecco I needed to get through the festivities, I was preparing to climb the highest mountain in Africa. I left home on Boxing Day and arrived at the airport to meet my fellow teammates. I was full of nerves and excitement — and plenty of worry about whether I was actually fit enough!

I can't pretend it was easy. Each new day of the climb brought a new challenge, not least getting used to sleeping in a tent, sharing wild toilet breaks with team mates I hadn't known 24 hours ago and hiking at altitude.

Then, finally, on New Year's Eve, after a few hours of rest, almost exactly a year after sitting at home heartbroken and searching for something that might make the following year different, it was summit night.

It was, without a doubt, the hardest thing I have ever experienced — but also one of the best moments of my life. Altitude sickness took hold and there were many moments when I thought I couldn't do it. So I stopped thinking about how far I still had to go and focused on taking one step at a time with the support of the team and the amazing guides. Until eventually, I got there.

I was so exhausted that I don't think it really registered what a momentous achievement it had been until the following day, when we were back at the start. And then something happened that has stayed with me ever since.

Sprite in Hand!

I remember being handed a bottle of beer and taking a swig. I was feeling ecstatic after everything we'd achieved. Until I thought: What am I doing? I don't even want a beer. I want a cold Sprite! So I gave the beer away. It seems like such a small moment, but for me it was huge.

After everything I had experienced and everything I had learnt over that year — including the slip-ups — I realised I really didn't need or want alcohol anymore and I haven't had alcohol since.

There is something quite powerful about thinking about those two New Year's Eves now. One year, I was sitting at home, frightened of what my future might hold. The next, I was standing on the highest mountain in Africa, discovering just how much I was capable of.

The Real Climb

Of course, the real transformation wasn't simply getting to the top of Kilimanjaro. It was everything that happened in between those two Christmases.

It was learning that difficult feelings don't have to be avoided.

It was discovering that I could cope without reaching for a drink.

It was taking small steps towards looking after myself.

It was becoming curious about what life might look like without alcohol, rather than focusing on what I thought I would be giving up.

And perhaps most importantly, it was beginning to believe that the end of one chapter didn't have to mean the end of my story.

It could also be the beginning of something new.

What might this Christmas look like for you?

Christmas can bring up so many emotions. For some people it's joyful and exciting. For others it can bring pressure, loneliness, difficult memories, family tensions or simply the feeling that you're supposed to be having a wonderful time.

And alcohol is often woven into all of it.

The Bucks Fizz in the morning. The drinks while preparing lunch. The 'good' wine with dinner. The Prosecco. The parties. The idea that we deserve a drink because we've survived another busy December.

We don't even stop to question it.

If you've started wondering about your own relationship with alcohol, you don't need to know what the rest of your life is going to look like. You don't need to have all the answers.

Maybe you can simply become curious.

What would Christmas feel like if alcohol wasn't doing the emotional heavy lifting?

What might you notice?

How might you feel the following morning?

And what might become possible if you gave yourself the space to find out?

When I think about those two Christmases now, I don't see one woman who was failing and another who suddenly had everything sorted out.

I see the same woman at two different points in her climb.

One was trying to find her way through. The other was beginning to discover what might be possible beyond alcohol. And somewhere between those two Christmases, a whole new horizon had started to appear.

Curious about what might be possible for you?

If some of my story feels familiar and you’ve found yourself wondering about your own relationship with alcohol, you don’t have to work it all out on your own.

Sometimes the first step is simply becoming curious about what life could look and feel like without alcohol.

At Sober Horizons, I offer a safe, supportive and non-judgmental space to explore that with you — at your own pace.

Your next chapter could start with a conversation.