This story was originally written as an addition to The Thing About Failure. but as the story developed, as it became more real, I felt it warranted its own space to breathe.

Sober at 20 - Because I got too good at drinking.

Raised by a sober alcoholic, I was introduced to the concepts of AA and addiction at a young age. I attended an AA meeting with my dad at 13 to learn more about the journey he went through to gain the 20+ years of sobriety he had at that point. It was there I learned to understand the impact of alcoholism, how the brain changed, and what the warning signs were.

But I still failed to avoid the precipice of becoming an alcoholic.

I say precipice because I was lucky to have a hard-wired ambition that put me in the clouds at a young age - which meant my rock bottom wasn't at the deep pit of despair that floods with booze every day that most alcoholics fall into and struggle for years to climb out of.

Like most Aussies, I started drinking around 16. With an understanding of the family weakness and the impact of alcoholism, my parents were very strict on how much I was allowed to drink when I went to a party - but I also chose to respect the rules implemented by my parents. I was a ratbag, I broke most 'rules' set, but this one I actively chose not to, even with plenty of opportunity.

I would have my two drinks for the evening and that was it.

But then I got drunk for the first time at 17, and it was great. I had so much fun, I smelt like Jim Beam but I didn't care. The noise in my head was basically gone, I was funnier, I wasn't tired, I saw things that I normally would miss with a head that ran at a million miles an hour.

And for once, I was in the same state as all of my friends.

Before I proceed - a lot can be said about the #AustralianDrinkingCulture and I do believe it to be a problem in our youth; it certainly was when I was 15–16. But what's important at this stage is to call out that yes, I was living within what I would deem a heavy drinking culture, but that had nothing to do with my choices.

Within the same year as getting drunk for the first time, I was staying with my grandad for two weeks on holidays. He was a loose unit who made his own scotch and didn't have a problem buying 17-year-old cigarettes and letting him swill his scotch with him.

Before the end of the first week, I had it sorted - I'd start drinking at midday, smash 6 beers until about 2:30 pm, have a nap from 3 pm–5 pm and wake up sober (or for the most part sober) and start drinking scotch with my grandad whilst we cooked dinner. Then I wouldn't stop drinking till midnight, even when my grandad had gone to bed at 9 pm.

I was on a fast descent into alcoholism and I hadn't even turned 18.

Fast forward two years, I had spent the rest of my teenage years until 18 lying to my parents about how much alcohol I'd consumed more times than I care to relive. I had experienced nights without memories. I had to have surgery on my hand after crushing a glass in a fit of rage whilst under the influence. I had multiple times where I was battling alcohol poisoning the day after a night of drinking. I even vomited on the front lawn of a girlfriend’s aunt and uncle’s house in Toorak - and again in their backyard on their son's 4th birthday.

I found myself having a beer with dinner with Mum and Dad, going out to the back fridge to get another one, skulling a beer in front of the fridge, before returning with an unopened one to give the perception that it was my second beer for the night.

I had convinced my friends to have a 'cruiser off' - buy a slab of cruisers and see who could finish all 24 first. I got to 23 before I experienced that flavour again, but in reverse. My mates all stopped at 11–12 - but who really won?

Then I hit my own personal rock bottom when I found myself at 20, wrapped around a toilet bowl at 9 pm on a Tuesday night after I had been drinking alone all afternoon.

I rang my dad, who was staying in the city that night with my mum, and he came home at 11 pm and sat with me till 3 am just talking about how my drinking was destructive. It was no longer the 'social drink with friends' I had been pretending it was.

So I had failed - I'd failed to see the speeding train heading straight towards me. I'd failed my dad with all his attempts at educating me on the dangers of alcoholism, on the impact of it, the signs, the negative effect on my health and relationships. I had failed my parents, the opportunities they had provided me sending me to one of the best schools on the Mornington Peninsula, supporting me with love and security.

Even worse, I had failed myself and my many ambitions and goals.

Although by the DSM-5 diagnostic criteria I could be categorised as an alcoholic, I didn't feel like it was the correct term for how I drank. I had met sober alcoholics - and in the scheme of things, I was an Auskick kid playing on the grounds of the MCG. Technically on the field, but not really in the game.

I didn't go through the 12 steps and I only went to 2 AA meetings, speaking only once.

That Tuesday night - that was when honesty saved my life. And it’s been the default setting ever since.

Now, I can hear you saying:

  • You are already devaluing the nature of your drinking

  • Avoiding the 12 steps, and AA meetings to avoid the title of alcoholic

Smells like excuse.

Let me explain. If I had claimed to be an alcoholic, I would’ve found ways to argue I wasn’t. There was a 'padding' around the term (articulated above) that gave me enough wiggle room to generate all kinds of excuses in an effort to sidestep the title - I just drank too much because of the drinking culture, I was just young and silly, I wouldn't drink as much now that I'm older, I'll never be like the alcos at AA.

But that was all a lie, because the truth - the no-BS honest truth - is that:

I never wanted one drink.

And it's because of that honest truth that I didn't drink for my own 21st. I didn't drink when someone threatened to kill me at work. I didn't drink when I was hit with performance management, directly after a failed relationship and a mental breakdown. I didn't drink when I was fired from a job for the first time at 25. And I didn't drink when a business I spent 6 years of my life building had to close its doors.

And I still haven't had a drink today - 13 years on from that Tuesday night.

All because I was honest - honest that I would never want just one drink again.

I'm not a hashtag. I’m not a cautionary tale. I’m not another statistic.
I’m just sober. Fortified. Honest.

Without honesty, alcohol would have become my co-pilot.

If that were the case, I know I couldn't say the same thing.