Exhausted and bloated, I lastly gave up alcohol earlier than my fortieth birthday. Only then did I realise what years of consuming had carried out to me…
With a glass of champagne in hand and my favourite cocktail dress, I felt like the perfect hostess as I greeted guests arriving for the glitzy PR event I had organised.
The air buzzed with conversation, punctuated by the chime of glasses and bursts of laughter. It was everything I thrived on – until it wasn’t.
Beneath the polished façade, I was quietly unravelling.
The same glamorous lifestyle I adored had become the backdrop to my toxic romance with alcohol. Champagne flutes masked unhealed trauma; the endless swirl of parties numbed my restless mind.
Red carpets, PR launches, endless soirées – my social life was a whirlwind, and I was always its life force: the fun, loud one. Six nights a week I was out, flitting from event to event. Home became just a pit stop to sleep.
I didn’t need alcohol to get through the day – I wasn’t an alcoholic – but I needed it to shine. Drinking felt woven into the fabric of who I was. Would I still be me if I stopped? Would I lose the spark that drew people in? Those thoughts kept me up at night.
By 2014, my drinking hit its peak: 50 drinks a week, sometimes more. Some nights, I would dart between two parties, knocking back four glasses of wine at each. Weekends? A blur of cocktails and catch-ups. I had no off switch.
It wasn’t until Christmas 2023, after a seven-week European getaway, that reality hit hard. I came home tired, bloated and 10kg (22lbs or 1.5st) heavier. I barely recognised myself. That’s when I decided: no more booze. I couldn’t live like this anymore.
![PR professional Lisa Hollinshead, 40, ditched alcohol for good at the start of 2024. It was only after one year of sobriety that she realised what drinking was costing her: AU$12,000 per year](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2025/01/28/14/94576113-14315921-PR_professional_Lisa_Hollinshead_40_ditched_alcohol_for_good_at_-a-15_1738075770107.jpg)
PR professional Lisa Hollinshead, 40, ditched alcohol for good at the start of 2024. It was only after one year of sobriety that she realised what drinking was costing her: AU$12,000 per year
![Red carpets, PR launches, endless soirées - my social life was a whirlwind, and I was always its life force: the fun, loud one. Six nights a week I was out, flitting from event to event, writes Lisa](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2025/01/28/14/94576109-14315921-Red_carpets_PR_launches_endless_soir_es_my_social_life_was_a_whi-a-14_1738075769793.jpg)
Red carpets, PR launches, endless soirées – my social life was a whirlwind, and I was always its life force: the fun, loud one. Six nights a week I was out, flitting from event to event, writes Lisa
But let me take you back to where it all began, long before I was living my dream in Australia.
As a girl growing up in boozy ’90s Britain, it wasn’t out of the ordinary that I had my first sip of alcohol when I was just 12 years old.
I can still remember wincing at the acidic bite of the cheap, hard cider my friends and I had managed to get our hands on. As we downed the one-litre bottle in the park, I was drunk before I even realised.
By 14, binge drinking had become a weekend ritual. Growing up in Manchester, in the north of England, I was steeped in pub culture. Drinking wasn’t just accepted – it was celebrated. Everyone I knew drank, and no one questioned it.
University life only added fuel to the fire. My early 20s were a blur of boozy nights, hungover mornings and somehow squeezing in study between the chaos. Drinking was simply what we did: it was fun, and we never gave it a second thought.
Looking back now, I see alcohol for what it is: a legal but dangerous drug that society normalises to the point of invisibility.
When I was 23, everything changed. My seven-year relationship ended, leaving me shattered. I needed a fresh start, so I packed my bags and moved to Australia – a country where I didn’t know a single person.
Saying goodbye to my family was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My mother sobbed at the airport as I gave her one last hug, but deep down, I knew this was the right move. It was time for a new chapter.
I’ll never forget the moment I flew over Sydney Harbour for the first time. The sight of the sparkling water below filled me with hope and a sense of endless possibility.
![Three months into sobriety, my son, now eight, said something that shattered me. 'Mum, I'm so much happier now you don't drink anymore because you're not as mean. Before, you didn't have any patience with me. Now, you have all the time in the world'](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2025/01/28/03/94576111-14315921-Three_months_into_sobriety_my_son_now_eight_said_something_that_-a-3_1738035080425.jpg)
Three months into sobriety, my son, now eight, said something that shattered me. ‘Mum, I’m so much happier now you don’t drink anymore because you’re not as mean. Before, you didn’t have any patience with me. Now, you have all the time in the world’
I threw myself into endless events to grow my business Social101 and expand my network – free-flowing champagne and platters of food were always part of the deal. Alcohol gave me a confidence boost, unlocking the fun, vivacious version of myself that I believed people loved.
But it wasn’t cheap. Now I’m sober, I’ve saved AU$12,000 (US$7,500 or £6,000) in a single year – money I would’ve otherwise poured into my drinking. I despair to think how much I used to spend on booze, and what I could have bought with that money instead.
Despite drinking six nights a week, I never saw myself as an alcoholic. I didn’t drink at home, and I didn’t depend on alcohol to get through the day. There was no clock-watching for that first glass of wine.
What I did believe, however, was that alcohol was central to who I was. It was woven into my personality, my social presence, my identity. And one thing held me back from giving it up: fear.
I was terrified that without alcohol, I’d lose a part of myself. That I’d become unbearably boring, stuck mourning my old life and the version of me that thrived on the buzz.
To everyone else, I was ‘fun Lisa’ – the high-functioning party girl with no off days. My drinking never raised red flags, not even with friends. If anything, it reinforced the image of the life-of-the-party persona I’d spent years cultivating.
Then, eight years ago, I became a mum. Welcoming my son, Albie, was life-changing; he instantly became the centre of my world. It was easy to stay off alcohol during my pregnancy and breastfeeding, but as soon as I could, I went straight back to drinking.
Albie saw it all from a young age. After his dad and I separated, I found myself juggling life as a single mum and businesswoman. The weight of those roles, combined with my drinking, came at a cost.
As the years went by, I slipped back into old habits. I’d call a babysitter so I could attend client events where alcohol flowed. My son never saw me at my worst, but he did endure the aftermath – hungover mornings where my patience was thin and my energy non-existent.
In December 2023, I returned to Britain for Christmas. By the time I flew back to Sydney, I was 10kg heavier, unhappy and riddled with regret. Sure, some of it was festive overindulgence, but deep down, I knew the real culprit: alcohol.
On the flight home, as the seatbelt sign flickered on, I glanced at my son beside me and felt like I’d hit rock bottom. I swirled my last glass of red wine, took a final sip, and made a vow. Enough was enough.
And I haven’t touched a drop since.
Three months into sobriety, my son, now eight, said something that devastated me.
‘Mum, I’m so much happier now you don’t drink anymore because you’re not as mean. Before, you didn’t have any patience with me. Now, you have all the time in the world.’
His words broke my heart. Until that moment, I hadn’t fully grasped what alcohol had done to me. I was shattered, but it strengthened my resolve to change.
Giving up alcohol was simpler than I expected. Once I decided to put the glass down, I never looked back. I’ve been sober since January 8, 2024.
Today, my life has never been better. My son and I practise gratitude and meditation every day. I have more empathy, more patience and, most importantly, I’ve stopped being so hard on myself about my ‘party girl’ years.
The journey hasn’t been easy, but every single moment has been worth it.
- As told to Carina Stathis