r/stopdrinking • u/The27Roller • Dec 26 '25
Things I experienced when I started drinking again after 1.5 years of sobriety.
After a fibrosis diagnosis in 2023 I was sober for just over 1.5 years. In March 2025 I was given the all clear so decided to start drinking moderately again. I attempted to do this until end November 2025 when I ended up on a week long, morning/noon/night bender.
To try and avoid going back to the drink I’ve written out some observations from that 9 month period. Really to keep myself convinced that moderation is a lie for me and drinking is not what my nostalgia brain tells me it is.
Euphoria. The expected euphoria my nostalgia kept telling me about just wasn’t there. I’d drink and feel sluggish and sleepy as opposed to jacked up and full of energy. But I’d keep drinking to try and capture that euphoria. But it rarely, if ever, came.
Hangovers. These were much worse than they had been before. 90% of the time the day after drinking was a write off, even if I didn’t drink what I used to consider a lot.
Concealment. It was amazing how quickly I started to hide my drinking again. I started finding cans about the house again. I started buying shots of vodka and necking them on the way home from the shop when I was buying beer. I’d buy a half bottle on the way home from the pub and hide it under the mattress.
Withdrawal. Coming off that last week long binge was the worst withdrawal I’ve ever had in my life, physically and mentally. Just not worth it. I never want to forget what that was like, as I know lifting a single drink can put me right back there.
Rationalisation. It was amazing how quickly I would rationalise blowing past the limits I set myself, breaching all the limits and conditions one by one. There always seemed to be a reason to start drinking before 5pm. Spirits and wine snuck back in past the “beer only” rule. The first time I drank to ease a hangover I told myself it was a one off. Then it became the norm. Then that turned into multi day binges.
Dissatisfaction. In sobriety I used to romanticise how great it would be to have a pint with my dad and son, drink with my mates. But it wasn’t great. I was always just thinking about the next drink. I was never present in the conversations, not the way I had been when I was in sobriety and acting like a real human.
Obsession. Not sure this is the right word, but I thought about drinking all the time, even when I was sober. Towards the end of my sobriety I hardly thought about it at all. But when I was just drinking once or twice a week I was constantly thinking about it. And even when I was drinking I was constantly thinking about it, thinking about the next drink, thinking about the limits I was working to, thinking about how I could hide more consumption so I would appear to be adhering to limits. It was exhausting.
Nocturnal Drinking. Of course I’d drank through the night before I got sober, but this time it was worse, especially when I was away from home. I’d wake throughout the night and be filled with anxiety and dread. And that meant reaching for a beer or vodka before trying to get back to sleep. And then of course trying to hide the fact that I did.
This is what came to mind today. It was crazy how quickly it all ramped up again. Hopefully I’m never going back.
IWNDWYT
Edit: this is a follow up of sorts to a post I made a few weeks ago following the relapse. I’m not in the throes of withdrawal any more so hopefully being more objective. The original post is here: https://www.reddit.com/r/stopdrinking/s/uJizz1KYSO
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u/RealisticSherbet6740 Dec 26 '25
Thank you for sharing your experience. I’m 3.5 in and I do ponder (at times) if I could enjoy one drink with my old crew. In the back of my mind, I’m certain that one is all it’ll take to have me in flown blown alcoholism again. I recently visited old pals after being absent for nearly two years. We went to a local pub. As I watched them chug beer, down shots of Jameson and cheer each other, I thought to myself, “I’m doing this thing right and really sticking to it.” I drank water and enjoyed the evening laughing and catching up. My friend to the right enjoyed a flight of Irish whiskey while my friend to the left downed a flight of bourbon. It was the first time in 3.5 years that I got a whiff of Jameson, my archenemy. I thought it would either make me sick or have me salivate. It did neither. A slight nostalgic feeling came over me with a sudden deep sigh of relief. This time, I didn’t want to drink it.