Hello, My Name is Susannah and I’m an Alcoholic
With shattering honesty, TV style guru SUSANNAH CONSTANTINE lays bare her struggle with drink, in the hope others can learn from the lessons she says have saved her life
By SUSANNAH CONSTANTINE FOR THE DAILY MAIL
Hundreds of people in village halls and meeting rooms around the country have heard me say this a thousand times over the past seven years because AA has been a sanctuary for me in my recovery.
My alcoholism is not a secret but it is private – hence why I have not discussed it publicly before now. So why did I write this? I’ve been asked in the past and always said no but hearing recent statistics about alcoholism and other addictions increasing during the pandemic, I felt now was a time when my story could possibly be of some benefit to others.
The renewed lockdown and lack of clarity about an end in sight made me realise that, while I’m fairly far forward on my journey, others are not. Facing isolation and restrictions without alcohol as an alcoholic is a daunting prospect. For this reason, I wanted to write an open letter to anyone out there struggling in the hopes that there may be things I have learned along my journey that might make your own a little easier.
First, let me introduce myself the old fashioned way. My name is Susannah and I’m a 58 year old wife of 25 years and mother of three with 30 years under my belt as a successful writer and television broadcaster. That’s the ordinary part. The other part is that, for eight of those years, I did much of the above numbed by alcohol. I thank God I never let my drinking slip into the day and never reached the point where my behaviour put others in danger: I can only think my maternal instinct was stronger than my addiction. Whilst I put a value on other people’s lives however, I did not put one on my own.
Fast forward to 2021: Many have lost jobs, have money worries, relationship pressures, home schooling, isolation, loneliness – the list goes on. But what about if you add alcohol addiction to the mix? All these things represent huge stresses for the average person but more so for someone whose emotional well-being is already being propped up with a crutch. The issue with addiction is that there’s often a degree of shame attached and/or lack of self-awareness that prevents us from asking for help right at the time when we are most vulnerable. Often addiction masks other emotional issues and these can come into sharp relief if you are trying to stay sober under such extreme circumstances.
I once heard dementia described as the equivalent of an old car, idling. The engine can handle it, but when you put your foot on the gas and more is required, it’s not up to the job. For someone with dementia this could be anything from a dental appointment to a delivery the next morning – they all act like a stress test and put extra pressure on the engine. The person may become irrational, agitated and flustered and we suddenly see how fragile they really are when anything out of the ordinary is expected of them. I think the same can be true of addiction. When a person is a high functioning addict, they can appear quite ‘normal’ while their engine is idling but when you apply a stress test, the cracks begin to show.
The pandemic and attendant restrictions have effectively created the ultimate stress test and one that has caused a worrying trend in people’s drinking habits. Alcoholchange UK claims they saw a 242% rise in visits to their advice and support pages between March and June compared to the same period in the previous year. Julie Breslin, the head of the Drink Wise, Age Well programme at We Are With You - a charity dedicated to helping people with drug, alcohol and mental health issues - suggested Covid had made functional alcohol dependence more possible because people were working at home en masse. So, if you are feeling your habits have changed or are becoming a worry, you are evidently not alone.
I had long suspected my relationship with alcohol was an unhealthy one. Despite never drinking before 6pm, I looked forward to that first glass of wine too much and then it became an unconscious reflex. Evenings were so much more fun with booze. I was more entertaining - or so I thought. One or two glasses soon became a bottle and a half and I’d wake up in the morning struggling to remember the night before. The fact that I never drank in the daytime is perhaps why it took so long for me to realise how serious the problem was. It’s much easier to excuse your drinking when it can be dressed up as ‘social’ or ‘unwinding’.
The fact that I never reached for the bottle first thing in the morning didn't make the problem any less serious, I just didn't realise that at the time.
The word alcoholic is a very broad, amorphous one and I suspect there are many of you reading who would not dream of labelling yourself in that way. You don’t drink in the day, hide bottles of vodka in the toilet cistern, get in, smashed, at 5am and wake up after a black out. To be honest, it doesn't really matter whether you consider yourself to be an alcoholic or a heavy drinker.
If you are reading this and questioning your relationship with alcohol, it doesn't really matter what label you put on it. If it’s worrying you, it's an issue.
People often try and find an excuse for their drinking - a stressful event at home; a difficult relationship; drama at work. Yes, these are stress tests, but the bottom line is, as an alcoholic, you will always find an excuse and that could be something as mundane as the bin bag breaking. I never needed an excuse. The truth was, not only was I dependent on alcohol, I enjoyed life better when I was drinking. Until I didn’t. After years of waking up in the morning filled with shame and guilt and asking God for the four horsemen to take me away and not bring me back, I knew it was time.
Drinking had ceased to be fun. I had ceased to be fun. I was no longer in control of my drinking; it was controlling me.
I hid my drinking well but the deception left me incredibly isolated and the effort it took was all consuming and exhausting. On occasion my guard slipped and it couldn’t be hidden. To my great, enduring shame, I will never forget the time it was suggested my husband take me home from a friend’s 40th birthday because I could barely stand. My rock bottom though hit when I blacked out and fell, fracturing two transverse processes while on holiday with my husband.
These are not memories I enjoy looking back on but recognising the problem - sometimes staring it straight in the face even when you’re terrified of what you might see - is the first step to recovery.
Probably the most important thing to take on board is that sobriety is a journey not a destination. You will always be an alcoholic but, with the right tools and support, you can learn to live with it.
When I say ‘live with it’ I don’t mean cover it up in a way that means you can get away with it in front of others. That is just putting the problem in a fancy wrapper – it’s still just as ugly once unwrapped. Women, in my experience, seem particularly adept at accommodating their addictions; fitting them into their lives alongside all the other things they must juggle – and many believe that high functioning alcoholics are the least likely to receive diagnosis or treatment.
Alcohol addiction can hit at any time, but I understand there is a growing number of cases among women in their 40s. I can only speak for myself, but that was a time of great change as my children were becoming more independent, my career was evolving and my mother was reaching the end of her life. It is a key time, especially in a woman's life, when you begin to reassess your place in the family and society as a whole. This is a time when it is common for women to have to redefine themselves.
A mistake we often make is to think ‘if I can just get on top of my drinking, the situation will be resolved’ but of course, drinking is rarely the issue; it’s more often the symptom.
Even this far down the line, I'm still trying to identify the root cause of my addiction. Both my mother and grandmother were alcoholics. When my mother died in 2007, she'd been in poor health for years, suffering from both bipolar disorder and early onset dementia. Drink, for her, I imagine, was an anaesthetic. As I child I'd watched her 'secret' drinking and vowed I'd never be like her. Of course, I, in turn, did the same. My grandmother's problems with alcohol were well known in the family. She died when I was five, so I have no memories of her drinking, but many others have. No one knows the root cause of her addiction.
Of course, this has led me to question whether it is genetic, but also how much is learned behaviour. Had my mother mimicked her own mother? Had I mimicked her? I will never know. I doubt she would have known the answer either, were she still alive.
Whatever the cause, the problem was clear. Just as it may be for you.
Not everyone will be in a situation where they need to seek professional help but if you feel concerned about your behaviour, even sharing this with a trusted friend is a good start. Clearly I am not qualified to counsel or diagnose a true alcoholic - that is something I feel only a professional should ultimately do. In my personal experience though, professional diagnosis was most effective when running alongside support from others who had encountered the same thing. When I first attended an AA meeting the relief swept over me when I realised other people had exactly the same stories and feelings; I was not alone. I would say the same to anyone coming to terms with similar issues now; you are not alone. It is not an exaggeration to say that AA saved my life.
To help more older adults access support, We Are With You is launching a helpline for the over 50s in light of research by the Centre for Ageing Better that found unhealthy drinking habits have become more ingrained since lockdown began.
The idea of tackling the entire problem at once can be paralysing but if we think of it as tidying one shelf at time in a really badly organised cupboard, it seems a little more manageable. Each shelf tackled makes us feel that bit stronger to deal with the next. Everyone is different and needs a different way in but I feel certain that you’ll feel at least a tiny bit better if you take the first step – no matter how small.
The best way to tackle it is one day at a time.
When I stopped drinking I found I had more of everything – more time, more energy, more enthusiasm. I’d been frightened about what would happen if I let it go; what would replace it but I realise now that LIFE replaced it. I got my life back. It wasn’t until then that I realised how much time it had taken up in my life and how much energy I’d been using to sustain it. The feeling of liberation I had that I didn’t have to rely on anyone other than myself to make life better for me and those around me was like a shot of adrenalin. And I used it like I used to use alcohol.
It was after I stopped drinking that I took on several big challenges – Tough Guy for Sport Relief and an expedition to the Arctic with my son which was hugely challenging both mentally and physically – and I loved it. The power I felt from these physical activities was a better high than anything I’d had from alcohol. In fact it made me realise I never did get a ‘high’ from alcohol; quite the opposite. I was either drunk or hungover and that meant tired, demotivated, directionless, depressed and, at my worst, suicidal.
These new physical activities were addictive in their own way but in contrast to alcohol, they were empowering, motivating and healthy. I lost a stone in the process for a start which in itself gave me a degree of self-confidence and self-assurance I hadn’t had for the previous decade. I felt more attractive which was great for me personally and for my marriage. It was win win.
Things have levelled out of course – I’m not doing Iron Man every day but what I have come to love is swimming. To be more specific, ‘Wild Swimming’ as the world now calls it. Really it’s just good old fashioned ‘outdoor swimming’ but that doesn’t sound as glamorous. I’ve only been doing it for a few months but let me tell you, there’s nothing glamorous about wild swimming. But I don’t care. It’s the last thing on my mind. In fact, that is the best thing about it. There is nothing on my mind bar the act itself. Many people talk about the clarity it gives you and I would wholeheartedly agree. It brings back a childish giddiness. When the water hits I instinctively feel ‘I can do this.’ I feel completely empowered. You empty your mind completely and experience a kind of freedom - liberation from everything. There is no question you are going to do this. You are resolute; determined and it’s a personal challenge. It’s an almost religious experience, like a baptism; you are your own disciple, baptising yourself. It’s a new beginning and one you are in charge of.
Instead of pressing what I call the ‘fuck it button’ as I would have as an addict, it’s pressing the restart. You can begin things again at any point in the day and reset.
The final selling point for me was the unexpected camaraderie I found amongst my fellow swimmers. I began swimming with one woman I know but the rest were strangers. Because you are doing something out of your comfort zone, you bond with people incredibly quickly and gain strength from sharing your vulnerabilities. There’s nothing to hide and nothing to hide behind. Everything is stripped away and it’s just you, the people you’re with, the water and your shared experience. This may not be the solution for everyone but it’s certainly working for me.
So, whilst I don’t feel I have uncovered everything I may ultimately need to on my personal journey, I do feel there is a conclusion to my story. I realise I am on some level still dealing with the guilt and shame attached to alcoholism and that it is a long road but I feel like I’m on the right path. I now understand I am not a bad person trying to become good, I’m an ill person trying to get better.
If you are affected by any of the issues above, seek the help of a professional or contact the AA helpline free on 0800 917 7650 to be put in touch with someone locally.
