I used to have a drink problem, Christmas was the hardest time of year

Christy Osborne, 40, was living the dream life in London in her twenties. But a decade of partying took its toll when she became a mum-of-two and was then hit by the loss of her mother. Here she explains how giving up alcohol changed her outlook and how she'll enjoy a sober Christmas.

"What are you thinking? Why would you do that?" I screamed at my friend when she told me she was giving up booze while on a night out. But the person who I should have been screaming at was me. I was the one with the problem. I was the one who couldn’t get through the day without a glass of wine and who could never turn down a party invite. I was always excited to book in a lunch with the girls, knowing it would be an opportunity to down bottles of rosé wine.

Around three years ago, I found myself in a dark place. I had developed an addiction to alcohol and was using drink to numb the pain I had been feeling for years. After-work drinks, parties and celebrations like Christmas were brilliant excuses to let my hair down and drink the night away. But not this year. This time, I will be enjoying Christmas to the full, but with sparkling water in my crystal glass tumbler.

The high life

I didn’t always feel like I had a disordered drinking habit. I moved to London from the US in 2008 when I was 26, with my husband, and at first, I enjoyed a great work/life balance. We both had good jobs, earning good money and enjoyed nights out with friends in cocktail bars and clubs in town. We drank champagne and wine out three or four times a week. A lot of people would see this as totally normal behaviour.

But my drinking habits intensified after we started a family. In 2010, I gave birth to my gorgeous daughter Ella. We were over the moon. Becoming a mum with a newborn was a challenge – one I relished – but the real challenge was giving up work and staying at home with a baby far away from my family and friends in the States.

I felt lonely and lost. My husband was working crazy long hours and weekends which amplified my situation. But from the outside, you would never have guessed the reality. I was spending my days with a big group of new mums at fancy restaurants in London, whiling away the afternoon with glass after glass of rosé. I’ll be honest, I found it fun too. For us new mums, the wine was our reward – coping with the sleepless nights, the feeding, the nappy changes.

Out of control

Two years later, in 2012, I gave birth to our second child Carter. It was a very different birth the second time around. Ella had been text-book perfect. I had a blow dry before a planned C-section delivery and she was a dream baby. Whereas with Carter, I was sent for an emergency caesarean which was very traumatic, then he was in the neonatal intensive care unit.

I felt extremely guilty about any pain or distress he may have gone through and blamed myself, thinking I’d done something wrong. I didn’t feel in control and also felt very disconnected to my new baby. I was extremely tired and overwhelmed with a two-year-old and a newborn at home by myself. I leaned into my mum friends more, forming close bonds and having more boozy lunches to make me feel happier.

I had postnatal depression soon after Carter’s birth and began to experience suicidal ideation – I never acted on anything, but I definitely had some scary thoughts. I didn’t tell a soul. I was afraid of being judged or people turning away from me.

Suffering in secret

I masked my depression by trying to be the perfect mum, friend, wife and career girl. I set up a blog and worked with fashion brands, attending glamorous parties all over town. Whatever or wherever I went, alcohol was available and I never said no. I was drinking every day.

My health didn’t feel like it suffered because I ate well and went to the gym, but I was kidding myself. My anxiety levels were through the roof and my sleeping pattern was a mess.

In 2018, my mum passed away and I was devastated. I sank further into depression and self-medicated with a bottle of wine – I needed it to prop me up and get through the day. At the start of every new day, I’d wish it away and focus on the moment my kids were in bed and I was on the sofa or out with a glass of wine. The hangovers became unbearable and as soon as I’d drop the kids off at school, I’d race back home and go back to bed for hours, usually lying there in tears.

After a Friday night, I’d lie in until about 11am on a Saturday morning and my husband upped his game taking on parent duty. I remember once coming downstairs and filling up a coffee mug of white wine to try and deter the hangover. I just wanted to drink through the pain I was feeling.

I wasn’t a 'present' mum, and if I was, I was irritable, snappy and impatient. I was taking every parenting shortcut, as the kids felt like a burden rather than a joy to be around. I took it out on my husband the most. After a few evening drinks together, we’d end up fighting and wake up the next day with blurred memories and feeling mortified.

Helpless and heartbroken

Six months after my mum passed away, I visited my dad in LA and that’s when the suicidal ideation returned, becoming more vivid and intense. It scared me that these dark thoughts were filling my head.

My pain was only apparent behind closed doors. I was good at hiding it – even when I reported at Harry and Meghan’s Royal Wedding on TV in 2011. If you followed my blog or social media you would never have guessed either – it was all glamour.

The more depressed I got, the more I reached for the bottle. But alcohol is a depressant, so what I didn’t know then was that it was making me more depressed and sending me into a downward spiral.

The day after my son’s eighth birthday celebrations, I was hungover and suddenly hit by a tidal wave of delayed grief. It was the anniversary of my mum’s passing and my phone was beeping with loving messages from family and friends back in LA. I couldn’t engage with anyone so I lay in bed scrolling through my Instagram looking back at the time since I lost my mum and I just didn’t recognise myself any more.

Breaking the habit

I was addicted to alcohol but living a life in denial. It was a wake-up call – I needed to sort myself out. I knew alcohol was the cause of my pain and I had to stop. I was afraid to tell people for a very long time. One girlfriend told me, "If you stop drinking, you're going to need a whole new set of friends." As it turned out, I didn’t, I just kept the good ones.

A habit is hard to break, but for me it was a must. Doing lots of research online about the science and the impact alcohol has on your health gave me more impetus to give up. Knowing the facts also armed me with the confidence to start speaking out on my socials and to friends about what I was doing. I recommend doing this if you’re trying to quit drinking. It helps you act with conviction.

My husband also stopped drinking at home in lockdown to support me and friends slowly became curious about my motivations and I was receiving positive comments which spurred me on. I also felt so much better. I was sleeping better and I was a happier, more patient mum. I was determined not to derail when lockdown lifted too. I didn’t want to screw up.

My friendships became stronger – it wasn’t just about drinking wine, we were having dog walks or going to pilates together.

Road to recovery

I would never use the word 'alcoholic' to describe myself – or anyone. I don't think we need labels, it can have negative connotations, especially for women. You can have disordered drinking without being an addict – you could be binge-drinking, or a heavy solo drinker. Personally, being called an alcoholic feels like a life sentence… I couldn’t be further from an alcoholic right now.

This year on holiday, my 13-year-old daughter revealed to me that her dad was always her favourite. When I asked why, she said it was because I used to sleep all the time and it was dad who did the fun things like the park or movies. It felt like a knife in the heart. But it was true. Thankfully, it’s a different story now, I couldn’t be happier spending time with my family.

An alcohol-free Christmas

That’s what Christmas is about for me now – family time. It’s not about popping corks or chinking champagne glasses. I’ve come to realise it’s not the alcohol that makes you happy, it’s having those who love you around you. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. The warm dopamine feeling from a glass of wine lasts for half an hour, but your family and friends are always there. For me, that fuzzy 30 minutes wasn’t worth the endless anxiety and paranoia.

My alcohol-free journey led me to study as a sobriety coach and I now have clients ranging from stay-at-home mums to corporate lawyers and even tech CEOs in the Silicon Valley who I coach on Zoom. We all have moments where we’re desperate to escape, numb the pain, reduce social anxiety or simply relax. It’s just alcohol isn’t the answer.

I feel like we're just at the tip of the iceberg when it comes to sober-living. It’s becoming more socially acceptable to live life without alcohol. I think it’s because people are realising the benefits of not drinking.

Drink doesn’t need to be an essential part of Christmas. We should focus on the things that bring us real joy and connection – that’s where the magic is. For some, the triggers to drink can be overpowering, so I’d recommend planning out your social events so you can stay in control. Work out what you want to drink and when you will leave.

As soon as I realised that alcohol wasn’t serving any of my needs – to relax or to connect with people – and only making me feel worse, I was able to eliminate the desire to drink. And the best part is, I’ve never looked back.