I came from a middle-class family and had always wanted to go to university; I had a place to do performing arts, but in the meantime, I went travelling across the states, which I had always wanted to do.
When I went to the airport to fly out, I thought dad didn’t look very well, and when I got back, he looked even worse.
It turned out that he had cancer and I became his carer, which meant I had to drop out of my university place.
He died in 1993 and I had various jobs, making my way up to a managerial role. At that time, I had always been a ‘party-head’ - from the 90s generation, I guess.
I would go out on a Thursday into Peterborough, have a good weekend and then back at work on Monday.
By 2006 my mum had arthritis which meant that she needed more and more care, so I was her live-in carer.
I struggled with it and she knew, but we spoke and she agreed that I could go back to university, this time at another location, while she had a carer.After a time, she was diagnosed with stiff person syndrome – a very rare disorder which made her rigid.
I had been travelling constantly from uni to Peterborough but she was practically bed-bound by the time she came out of hospital following the diagnosis, which meant I had to give up university again, looking after her alongside the carers.
I was the youngest child – my brother and sister didn’t care – so alcohol was my only friend at that time. I used to look forward to the end of the night, and just being at that ‘happier place’, on my own with drink.
Mum died 13 years ago in January. I don’t remember the funeral as I was drunk. I remember sitting by her empty bed that night at home, and all I had was lager. If I hadn’t had alcohol I would probably have ended my life; I felt like a five-year-old who just needed their mum and was obviously in immense pain.
I drank and drank, five-day sessions. They felt lovely at the time…sometimes I would go shopping in the morning, get my beers and then stay in for the day. Drink was the painkiller, the stress reliever, the cure-all that society says to us we all need and benefit from – it doesn’t work.
That went on for years but at the same time I had always enjoyed gyms to help my mental health.
There was a NYE party in 2016 where there was a guy I met who enjoyed the gym, and we started going together. And then I found I could cut down on the beer over the following year, gradually at first, but by 2017 I had given up completely, with the help of CGL Aspire.
What Aspire taught me is that alcoholism or drug addiction is a symptom. It’s like having a broken bone and ‘necking’ drink to deal with it; once you stop, the pain returns.
That is why Aspire has been so wonderful. I always thought that I just needed to take away the alcohol or drugs – I have had cannabis, cocaine over the years – and everything would be alright. But they have just been part of the story, the anaesthetic.
I went several years without alcohol, but then last year I had a car accident and while I was recovering, I started having alcohol-free beer, shandy.
That was a gateway. Soon enough I was drinking 16 cans of that a night and I realised I was getting back into a mess and just wanted to get drunk again - so I ended that and it was easy, because I already had the tools that Aspire had given me.
There is such a stigma towards people with drink and drug problems but when you hear their stories of their lives you think ‘no wonder’. Some of the things people endure – child abuse, and so on.
I was on the bus recently coming through town, and saw street drinkers and drug users and people looking at them with scorn. In a beer garden nearby were people drinking loads – and that’s viewed by society as absolutely fine. The only difference might be that the street drinkers have had a worse time in life and have gone too far.
So, Aspire has helped me question alcohol and what it is doing to people as a society. If people were buying heroin or cocaine in the shops as they do alcohol we would be horrified. I have realised that our addictions can lie to us, and tell us what we ‘need’ – when we don’t.
I am still dealing with my mother’s death I think, I don’t think I dealt with it at the time. She would be happy that I am no longer a drunk and that I am in a better place. I have friends that are like family, so I am immensely grateful. Some people don’t make it to this side after an alcohol addiction.
Aspire is a wonderful service and I don’t think I would be here without it. I could name many names but generally everyone is such a fantastic person. I have friends at the gym and am a mentor for some of them, who see me as a positive role model.
Thanks to Aspire I believe that there’s nothing now that can be thrown at me that I won’t deal with. I’ve learned a hell of a lot and I am incredibly proud that I can help people now.
Every time I come here and hear the beep of the door at the entrance to the drop-in sessions I think ‘isn’t it great that we can do this’. And for that service, and the people here, I am eternally grateful.