I’ve stopped drinking alcohol but my wife hasn’t
I think it might be the end of us…
I decided to give up drinking alcohol last year. I’d been worried about my intake for a long time, but I finally had a really good look at it and decided it was time I stopped drinking alcohol.
Like many people things changed during lockdown, and I now work from home full time. On one hand, I love it. On the other hand, well, I’m going a bit stir crazy. I’m 64 and staring my retirement in the face too, and not sure how I feel about that either.
My wife and I being home full time together has put huge pressure on us, which neither of us expected. Our kids are older now, they both left home a couple of years ago. So it’s just me and her. It was something we had been looking forward to for years, time for just the two of us.
But honestly, things are not like we – or at least I – expected them to be.
We have always been great drinking buddies
We’ve always been a sociable family. When my wife and I were younger we were early drinkers, finding pubs that would serve us without asking for ID. And in our youth, we found ourselves very much into the London club scene, and inevitably later the rave culture. Our weekends were one long party, and we lived for Friday nights and the mayhem it would bring!
…most evenings, we’d open wines and beers and drink together… and drink quite a lot
As we got older and had kids and jobs, we settled down. But most evenings at the end of our working days, we’d open wines and beers and drink together. And drink quite a lot. And we had parties, and dinner parties, and house guests, and holidays… and there always seemed to be an excuse to tie one on. We didn’t think much of it. We thought everyone was like us, full of life, one constant party.
Mostly we’ve had an absolute blast together. Occasionally we’d have a massive drunken fight, something that would get out of hand because of the booze. But not violent or anything. And we have been really happy, for years. We were looking forward to re-living our carefree, childless days again! Having fun without the responsibility of kids and so on. Party time in our sixties and beyond.
But something has changed for me
I don’t know what it is, or how to explain it, but over a period of time I’ve felt concerned about my drinking. I – we – drink more than most of our friends. And I was starting to think that maybe we ought to cut back.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that my own drinking wasn’t actually that healthy, or under control
When I talked about it to my wife she usually just laughed. And then I’d laugh too and we’d open a bottle of something nice and laugh together about how silly I am.
But I’d become sober-curious. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that my own drinking wasn’t actually that healthy, or under control. So using the excuse of doing dry months for various charities I started to do some chunks of time being alcohol-free.
What a revelation
Firstly, I’m going to confess. Stopping drinking was much harder than I thought it would be. I actually felt withdrawal symptoms. Dreadful sugar cravings. Trouble sleeping. Alcohol consumed my constant thoughts – I had to fight it, every single day. I found some sober groups on Facebook which really helped, having people to share this with. But it was a shock.
It was a relief to go to bed having made it through another day without buckling. And it was really tough – what they call in sobriety circles ‘white-knuckling it’. But if anything, it simply made me even more convinced that I had some kind of dependency issue. I wondered if I was an alcoholic.
But the benefits! Oh my word
What I did also notice though, was that after about seven days of not drinking, and getting through that really tough early part, I felt SO MUCH BETTER.
I mean, not just a bit better, but like a different person. Better able to work, to think, to sleep. More ‘present’ in my life. And just so much nicer physically. Not only did I feel healthier and lose weight, I found I had all this extra energy. Where had that been all my life!?
I’d done stuff like Dry January before, or the October one. And when the dry months were over, I’d launch myself back into drinking heavily again, but this time everything had changed. I felt like I’d seen another life, a life I could have, where I felt like a better version of myself.
I’d drink, but that sense of blithe, carefree drinking without worry about tomorrow was gone. I felt heavy. Woke up feeling sluggish. The joy of drinking had gone. I felt shifty.
So ultimately I made a decision to stop drinking completely
This is where it starts to get sticky. Having made that decision, I told my wife. And at first she was supportive – I think actually she was humouring me. She simply thought I wouldn’t stick to it, and I can’t blame her for that. We’ve had a lifetime of drunken escapades together.
But I did mean it. I do mean it. I now haven’t drunk any alcohol for more than nine months and I love it. But everything between me and my wife has gone totally haywire.

My wife, having been supportive and proud of me at the start, is now really struggling. She feels betrayed by me, left out in the cold. She’d assumed that we’d keep having all this ‘fun’ together, and now she simply feels like I’ve let her down. She’s devastated. I can’t overstate how upset she is.
Instead of cracking open some cold ones together at the end of the day, or uncorking a fine vintage and turning up the music together, I’m more interested in going for a run. Or doing something constructive.
She feels like she’s lost her best friend, her partner in crime
And I really do have sympathy for her. We have had such a fun-filled life together, packed with parties and so many booze-fuelled mad nights – and suddenly her best mate has ditched her. I do get it, I really do.
But it’s causing massive arguments now. In a house where we were aiding and abetting each other, everything was fun. We didn’t care, we lived for the moment, and just one more shot, and turn up the music, never mind the neighbours… In fact let’s invite them round. Now we are inhabiting different worlds. She wants to keep doing that, and I don’t. And I don’t know where we go from here.
I have really noticed the effect it has on her
I have tried really hard not to be judgemental about this. But with the removal of my rosé-coloured spectacles, I see my wife in a different light. I can’t help it. When we’re drunk together, we’re both hilarious to each other. But now I’m sober, she’s not funny at all. She’s a bit embarrassing and repetitive. I know I’ve been that person too. Jesus, this is so hard.
I realise we have been enabling each other’s unhealthy drinking for decades
We are fine for some of the time, but as soon as she’s about three or four large drinks deep, we’re on different planets. And we both feel it. She gets resentful, starts digging at me. And then I want to escape, get away from her.
We are drifting further apart and she is drinking alone. I find her in the middle of the night, asleep on the sofa where she’s obviously been crying and drinking, and I feel responsible. It’s at the stage where I don’t know what to do. I realise we have been enabling each other’s unhealthy drinking for decades.

We’ve tried talking when we’re both sober
We’ve had that discussion. Maybe she could give it a crack too, but she can’t stick to it. Manages a couple of days then gets resentful again, doesn’t see why she should have to do this just because I am.
We try hanging out in the evenings together, me with my 0% chilled beers and her with her wine, but like I said, that’s only fun for either of us for a couple of hours, max.
It feels like our entire relationship and marriage has been based on this crazy alcohol-fuelled merry-go-round, and I’ve suddenly jumped off. And whilst she’s still on there, swinging around wildly, filled with dizziness and the heady fun of fear, I’ve found my feet. Firmly on the ground. Stable and comfortable.
Whether we can find another ride that fits us both is the big question now. Because where we are now, I don’t see us lasting. What is the answer?
If you’re affected by any of the topics here;
Alcoholics Anonymous
Al-Anon for the families and friends of alcoholics
Drinkaware
As told to Sam Harrington-Lowe. Images are of models, not real life.

Sam is Silver’s founder and editor-in-chief. She’s largely responsible for organising all the things, but still finds time to do the odd bit of writing. Not enough though. Send help.


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