Today is the 20th of March 2026. Without making it sound pretty, I’m going to put it out there that I’m quitting alcohol and vaping as of today. It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?! I had a near panic attack last night when I discovered I didn’t have an emergency vape. For me this is the stuff of nightmares. I had the option to make an hour trip, hoping the store had stock, or to improve my health, save some money, and give up completely. I’ve had time to think about this option and the outcome is I want to kill the habit. I haven’t had a drink because, for me, there was only a small addiction issue — I drank because I wanted to. Alcohol did show some addictive traits, and stopping it never produced the same side effects as other poisons. So there is no alcohol in the house and I have a vape that I’m expecting to die any minute now. I quit cigarettes about three years ago and replaced them with vaping. It was meant to be a short-term fix to help me get over the cancer sticks. But then it became a separate addiction. (I dare say they’re harder than ciggies to come off.) My excuses were always that I stopped coughing completely and they were so much cheaper than fags. I still believe that vaping is the lesser of the two evils. It got to the point where the vape barely left my hand.
Throughout my life there has always been an addiction of some sort. It began at 15 — smoking weed and cigarettes and enjoying the very occasional drink with mates (and then later by myself). As with many sobriety stories, this is often how the path starts: early habits that feel normal become familiar anchors. Few people develop addictions later in life; the habit became part of my youth and shaped a lot of my social rhythms. I’ve lost count of how many years it has been since I quit pot, and honestly I don’t miss it. It took me two decades to realise it only left me with anxiety and paranoia, which, sadly, is common for many. I sometimes wonder if smoking caused or amplified my current mental state; it wouldn’t surprise me if it did. The panic attacks I occasionally get now resemble what it felt like being on weed, but the difference is that I have medication and coping strategies to help combat these horrendous episodes. I think the post below delves into some of this in more detail. I still romanticise smoking at times — the ritual, the company, the memory — but the thought rarely lasts long before I recall how it made me feel. I’ve never understood how people say it relaxes them; for me it was almost always the complete opposite.
As for the grog, there won’t be any issues, desires or cravings — at least that’s the aim. I recently blew a seven-month stretch of sobriety by going on a binge that lasted longer than I planned (as it so often does). I’m back to day one, which is both upsetting and strangely exciting. So what brought on this latest jouney? I grew weary of the routine, tired of spending money and feeling like booze had a grip on me. Addictions are cruel afflictions. ‘Normal’ people don’t know what the life of an alcoholic really looks like. My consumption didn’t mirror some dramatic stereotype. I strictly drank beer; I didn’t down bottles of vodka and completely wipe myself out. I feel like a lightweight when it came to drinking, but that’s beside the point — I was consuming enough to make things problematic. I think a common trait of many alcoholics (the newer term is AUD — Alcohol Use Disorder) is how sneaky they can be. It starts with leaving the house to the bottle shop (it’s always a telltale sign when the store clerk knows your name and your usual purchase), then sneaking it into the house, furtively drinking there, and furtively tossing bottles into the recycling at 2 a.m. It gets exhausting. The true alcoholic ends up with a full-time job just managing the secrecy. Anyway, I’m drifting off topic. Today I quit again, and I know I can do it — it’s been done before. Now it’s about staying the course and maintaining that hard-won sobriety.
At the end of the day, I want to be free of all addictions. I don’t want anything that takes precedence over my life or dictates my choices. I have a thousand stories of the ways alcohol has ruined things for me. I’m not going to recount them all here, but trust me when I say they are plentiful and full of cringe-worthy moments.