Rachael Shephard is a sober coach for mothers who want to quit drinking. Below is an extract from her debut book, Sober Mama: Breaking Free from the Bottle: A Woman’s Journey to Sobriety and Practical Tips for Quitting. The book is part memoir and part practical self-help, in which Rachael shares the story of how she came to recognise she had a problem with alcohol, and how she managed to give it up for good. ‘Mum, can you read us a story before bed?’ Alfie queried. ‘No, it’s too late. You should have asked earlier. It’s school in the morning. You need a good night’s sleep.’ ‘Oh, pllleeeassseeee. Pretty please!’ Arthur added. ‘No.’ I replied with a tone as stern as I could muster. ‘That’s not fair! You never read stories anymore. You always say you will, but you don’t.’ Alfie sounded exasperated. ‘I told you - you should have asked earlier.’ ‘It wouldn’t have mattered if I asked earlier! You would have made another excuse!’ Alfie rolled over in his bed, so his back was turned to me, and let out an over-exaggerated, lengthy sigh. He was right. I would have made another excuse. Right at that moment, my only concern was going back downstairs and pouring my second glass of wine. The first had started to wear off, and the need for a top-up was causing me to feel irritated. If my boys would just go to bed when they were told and stop asking for things, I wouldn’t get so annoyed. I kissed Arthur and Alfie goodnight, walked downstairs quickly and headed straight for the fridge. I poured a large glass of Pinot and added a few ice cubes. Annnndd relax. That was the only time of the day I looked forward to. Once the boys were asleep and the house was quiet, I was free to obliterate my stress and anxiety with wine. The only objective, was to get drunk quickly, pass out, and enjoy a few hours of coma sleep - without the feeling of constant, soul-crushing anxiety. This wasn’t how I envisaged motherhood. I had delusions of grandeur. I was going to be the archetypal ‘perfect’ mum. I’d only cook organic food from scratch, never shout, play games whenever they asked and I’d make sure I read stories to my children, every single night. Instead, I found myself a single mum, struggling to juggle the daily grind, working full-time, school runs, supervising homework, cooking dinner and drinking copious amounts of wine, just to numb the pain of…my life. I was miserable. I counted down the hours each day until 5pm. Why? That’s when I could open the wine without being considered an alcoholic. It says so on those ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere’ signs. The only thing worth looking forward to, was emotional oblivion. Being a mum wasn’t something to be enjoyed, it was something to get through. Just another job on the list – that required two bottles of wine a night to endure.
It hadn’t always been that way. When I first had my boys, I moderated my alcohol intake. Fast forward a few years and the sudden death of my mother and an acrimonious divorce catapulted me into the realms of ‘problem drinker.’ I could never be considered an alcoholic – that term was reserved for the worst members of society and those who had lost everything to booze. I was still working full-time and didn’t drink in the morning – I was highly functional. I didn’t recognise that I had a problem with alcohol for a long time, because I was behaving in the same way that a lot of mums do. Mummy’s wine o’clock is a widespread, socially-validated pastime – we all deserve that treat to take the edge off parenting. I didn’t see it coming. I was addicted. And not only was it ruining my life; it was also impacting on my boys. I eventually got sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. Fed-up of dragging myself through each day, just to get to 5pm. It wasn’t a way to live. It was a way to die. Painfully. And slowly. I decided to quit drinking on an otherwise completely uneventful Thursday, in November 2021. Enough was enough. I learned about what alcohol does to the body. I read everything I could get my hands on about addiction. I had no idea about the havoc booze could cause to the brain. As my knowledge increased, the more I was bolstered in my decision to be, and stay, sober. A month after I quit drinking, I bought 12 pebbles and some acrylic paints. I drew pictures on each of the stones, one on each side, sprayed them with varnish, and put them in a hessian drawstring bag. It was a homemade gift for my boys. I wrapped the gift and placed it under the Christmas tree. On Christmas morning my boys opened their gift. ‘What is it?!’ Alfie said gleefully ‘Well, I made them for you both. They’re story stones. We each take a stone out of the bag in turn and use the picture to make up a story together.’ ‘Oh wow! That’s amazing!’ Alfie said, delighted. ‘So, when do we use them mum? Arthur queried. ‘Every night Arthur. Every night.’ You can buy Sober Mama: Breaking Free from the Bottle: A Woman’s Journey to Sobriety and Practical Tips for Quitting here.
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English (US) ·