The Life of a Sober Doctor

Some time ago, I was on a study day about resilience and the coach was asking people about how they dealt with day-to-day stress. The only answer that came into my head was “wine”. People were putting up their hands talking about their hobbies, and I couldn’t think of anything to say other than maybe going for dinner (and drinking a lot) as well. The little voice in my head that was telling me I had to do something was getting louder.

I always felt a bit shy and awkward in social situations. When I discovered alcohol around age 14, it magically made me feel better and like I fitted in. My family were all big drinkers, and every social occasion was liberally sprinkled with alcohol and often ended in drunken rows.

I went to medical school to fulfil my dream of becoming a doctor and my imposter syndrome increased; everyone seemed to be from posh rich families, and I was the daughter of a hotel chef from Liverpool. I thought alcohol made me more confident and fun. Medical school was 6 years of drunken parties, celebrations and commiserations over the myriad of exams. I lapped it up.

Working as a junior doctor was tough. I moved to London and felt even more out of place. The long hours and life or death decisions were intense.

It was the 90s and the clubbing scene was amazing – I made a great group of friends who worked hard and partied even harder. We would often hit the bars in London that opened in the early hours for the traders. This meant we could go out at 8am after a night shift and justify this to ourselves as part of the culture.

In my 30s, I moved back up north back to my roots, and I started to realise that I always needed alcohol in the house; in fact, my life revolved around it. I continued to work hard and “destressed” with the – by now – more “sophisticated” crates of subscription wine and craft gins. I was working hard and loved my job. I became a consultant anaesthetist in my dream speciality of heart surgery and worked long (but rewarding) hours.

Many people say in their field of work there is a big drinking culture; this is also true of the medical world. There are networking events at conferences with freely flowing alcohol, medical supply companies “sponsor” boozy nights out, and there are a myriad of social events all year long.

It felt hypocritical and gave me a constant feeling of low-level guilt when I would have to ask patients about their drinking habits and advise them to cut down, or to be looking after desperately sick patients where their disease was caused by alcohol and know I myself was drinking too much.

When I turned 40, my mum suddenly became ill. She was only 66 and had just retired. I was very close to her, and she had always been fit and well. She was diagnosed with advanced cancer and passed away 6 months later. I was absolutely devastated. As a doctor I felt I’d failed her by not being able to make her better. I was drinking around this time to numb the pain.

On the outside, I was a highly successful doctor at this time. I was doing my clinical job and winning awards such as “doctor of the year” for my work on developing clinical pathways. I was rising in hospital management and being seen as a future hospital director. I felt like I had a double life; at home I was drinking more and usually feeling hungover and ashamed.

Nights out became like Russian roulette, I never knew if I would manage to have a few drinks or it would turn very messy with me falling over, losing things, rowing with everyone and crying. It was a night like this that led me to stop drinking. I decided to have a break and stopped for 3 months. I had never even done dry January before.

It was so hard. I had no OTI network. I was too scared to go to AA. But I read the quit-lit books, and in them I heard “my people”.

I realised other people had gone through what I had and that made me feel better. I spent the first 2 years just desperately trying not to drink, avoiding social situations and clinging on for dear life.

After 3 months sober, I tried moderating. I got drunk at a medical ball, cried, and within a week was back to drinking a bottle of wine on a Monday night. This was it. I had to stop. So I did, in October 2014.

Over 8 years things have changed.

The first few years were about not drinking. But the last few years have been about “the jooournaay” and self-growth. Really!

The proliferation of sober networks and podcasts over the last few years has been amazing and has helped so much with my feeling like I belong.

As part of the journey, you have to change. Otherwise, you might end up drinking again to fill the void.

When I stopped drinking, I started growing up. I learnt to deal with boredom, pain, grief. It is hard to not numb the feelings and sit with them, but it is much better in the long run.

The missing piece of the jigsaw for me was joining Over the Influence. This is when I found I could start to “give back” and try and help other people which in turn helps me.

I want to tell all the people starting out – you can absolutely love your alcohol-free life, you can do this.

If I can, then anyone can.

I honestly thought that I would never enjoy life again without alcohol,l but giving up is the best thing I ever did.

Nowadays I can tell you my hobbies are yoga, paddle boarding, learning Arabic, and also spending time with my new friends on OTI, as well as giving back and helping others starting out on this amazing AF path.

Helen is an OTI regional leader and valued member of the community. To join us, click here and gain access to exclusive content, zoom meetings, and in-person events!