For a while the only friend I had was Sauvignon Blanc but now I am okay with who I am

The craziest thing happened to me recently. I was taking shade from the brutal Aussie sun beneath a native gum tree, speckled with pink and grey galahs, while George the Groodle sniffed his way around my local park. I got chatting to a mum whose child had befriended George. We hit it off straight away when we recognised each other’s Corkonian accent.

For a little while we were transported back to the Rebel County. It hadn’t been long since she and her family had fled to Perth to escape the Irish housing crisis. In no time at all, we were talking about the struggles of living abroad, with no family support, being a stay-at-home mum in a strange land.

I told her my kids are now 16 and 18 years old, so life is a bit easier, but I haven’t forgotten how hard it was and how alone I felt for years. I told her that for a while the only friend I had was called Sauvignon Blanc and she laughed. But then she looked at me and said: “Oh my god, it’s just dawned on me that I read your article in The Irish Times.”

I was blown away. She said it had inspired her to get her own drinking in check before she left Cork as she’d also been concerned when it had increased during the Covid lockdowns. She wasn’t at all surprised when I told her that I’d received many emails from people who had grown far too used to pouring themselves a large one at 5pm and finishing the bottle before bedtime.

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But the response to that article hasn’t all been uplifting. Comments on social media would be enough to drive some people to drink! Even with close to four years of sobriety under my belt, it still hurts when people try to shame me.

You wouldn’t have known by looking at me in the gym that I was living with an addiction

It was obvious that I’d struck a nerve with some readers. The keyboard warriors were out in full force delivering their unfiltered toxic retorts and verdicts. One accused me of being an attention-seeker, another said I was just an “alky” blaming Ireland for my problems. The one that hit the hardest was probably this one: “Addicts are the most smug [sic] people in the world, they think they should get a medal for being normal.”

It is comments like this that highlight the stigma and shaming associated with addiction. It is an illness, just like any other, and is caused by a series of factors including the substance itself. And like all illnesses, there is a spectrum of severity.

[ I was drinking a bottle of wine most nights, sometimes even two ]

Why wouldn’t I celebrate that I had overcome an illness? I was lucky that I got off the slippery slope before it took me down completely. You wouldn’t have known by looking at me in the gym that I was living with an addiction.

Mine was a psychological dependency, but had I continued drinking, it could have reached the stage where I needed booze to kick-start my day. At this stage of the spectrum, medical intervention is necessary as alcohol withdrawal can be deadly.

Nobody chooses a life of addiction. With the right support, people can and do recover. The difference between someone in active addiction and someone in recovery is a very simple one – those of us in recovery have stopped doing the thing that was making us miserable or sick.

People can become addicted to all sorts of things as a coping mechanism. From the feedback I have received by email from people in many corners of the world who were touched by my article, it’s clear that the problem of addiction in our society is serious and far-reaching. By openly sharing my story, people say that it gives them a sense of hope.

I’m now a qualified counsellor, something I’d wanted to do since my 20s. I’m looking to publish my memoir of addiction and, as a writer, feel empowered by the people who subscribe to my blog.

For all my flaws and failings, I am okay with who I am, and proud of my achievements

In writing about my addiction, I ensure that I never take my sobriety for granted. Ask my kids. They regularly roll their eyes when I remind them of how many days, weeks, months, years, that my husband and I have stuck to our commitment to live a healthier life.

My son is about to embark on a music degree, and I reckon he has his Irish musical genes to thank for his abilities. But I also like to think that being sober parents, fully present, and committed to helping our kids reach their full potential, also counts for something.

Sobriety is the gift that keeps on giving. I’m back at choir after the Australian summer break and loving the new repertoire which includes a song by Jordan Smith, Stand in the Light, which resonates deeply with me. It goes: “This is who I am inside, I’m not gonna hide, ‘cos the greatest risk we’ll ever take is, by far, to stand in the light and be seen as we are.”

Embracing a sober life, going against the grain of a society, both in Ireland and Australia, that normalises excessive drinking, was a risk worth taking because finally, for all my flaws and failings, I am okay with who I am, and proud of my achievements.

Perhaps some might even call me smug, and I’m okay with that too.

Read more from Gill Kenny, who is a counsellor, about sober living on her website