As Dry January comes to an end, David Wilson, the host of podcast One For the Road, explains how he overcame rock bottom.

At my worst, I was drinking a bottle of vodka every day.
I was over 20 stone in weight, my blood pressure was life-threatening, my cholesterol was hitting 8.6 and I was on various medications, including anti-depressants. I look at photos of myself then, bloated and miserable, and I appear 10 years older than I do now. I was a ticking time bomb.

I wasn’t in a good place as a child: my parents argued constantly, and I didn’t fit in at my new school after we moved. When I was 14, I got up one morning and found a letter on the table from my mum saying she had left us. From then on, I felt useless and unwanted, and after my school mates introduced me to drink I soon realised it helped to numb those feelings. It also made me more relaxed, and the drunker I got, the louder and funnier I became. That brought me the attention I was craving, which, at the time, seemed like a great solution.

As I moved into my twenties, the boozing continued. I was always in the pub near where I lived, knocking back pint after pint. I even earned the nickname “Glugs” because I downed them so quickly. One night, some stranger commented on my drinking and asked if I was an alcoholic. I felt so ashamed, I stopped going to the pub and instead starting drinking more at home. That made glugging it back even easier. No one judged me and I could drink as much as I liked. By my 40s I was getting through a litre of vodka a night.

Unbelievably, I still managed to run my carpet-fitting business, and I was a decent father to my son. Even though I’d split up with his mum, I wanted to be there for George, who was born when I was 30. The weekends I spent with him, I kept away from the drink because he was my priority. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the thought of my next drink was always lurking in the background. George and I are extremely close these days, and we have always been there for each other, but without doubt, I am a better dad now I am sober.

Then, when I was 48, I got an unexpected email saying a TV programme called DIY SOS was looking for a local carpet fitter to help on their shows. I secured the contract for a while, then a year later I became “Dave the Carpet” on 60 Minute Makeover. Even though I did the job well – and it went on for eight years – the drinking after hours really ramped up. Most nights post-filming, we’d go out and the booze was flowing. Often to the point of excess. We’d go to work the next day hungover but we somehow functioned and got the job done. It was work hard, play hard.

Life soon turned into one drunken episode after another. And, looking back, I felt like a horrible person. I wrecked relationships, I became more bitter and angry, I didn’t care what people thought of me, and it got to a point where I started spending long periods of time on my own in a drunken stupor. Often, the next morning, there would be intense self-loathing when I’d look at my phone and see the vicious texts I’d sent to people. In that moment, I’d swear I’d never drink again, then by 4pm I’d be heading to the shops to buy vodka.

In 2018, I hit rock bottom. My mum had died and I didn’t know how to handle the pain. I spiralled more and more out of control, ending up on a four-day bender, sleeping on the beach and not really caring if I woke up again.

Then in early January 2019, something miraculous happened. A good friend of mine called Piers texted me, and rather than being judgemental, he said he knew how badly I was struggling, and suggested I join him for Dry January. I remember I burst out laughing and didn’t reply. But as the day went on, I kept thinking about his text. I started visualising myself sober – and I was intrigued. I wondered how I’d feel, what I would look like, how my life might change… At the end of that day, I messaged him to ask if he was at home. He was, so I drove to his house where he was waiting for me, standing there like a pillar of strength. I looked at him and said, “Let’s do it”. I haven’t had a drink since.

People ask me, why then? I’m not sure I have the definitive answer. But my life was so bad at that point, I thought I might die. And although I was desperately unhappy back then, there was something in me that still wanted to grab this lifeline from Piers. If he hadn’t texted, or he’d been out when I messaged him, I am convinced I would not be here for my upcoming 60th birthday. In recent years, I’ve had therapy, and that has helped me to understand the reasons behind why I drink. I never felt I was good enough and the booze was a way of masking my feelings rather than dealing with them. I would advise others to seek professional support from therapy; it can be life-changing.

Stopping drinking wasn’t easy, but I did feel excited about having a go. Piers had previously told me about his plan to cycle to Paris that year and I decided I wanted to do it with him. So every morning at 6am I went to his house and we trained together. Slowly I started to feel fitter and look better, and that encouraged me to eat more sensibly and go to bed earlier. The positives were notching up and it felt great. I remember after six weeks, I was walking my dog and I saw my local pub. I realised in that moment that not drinking wasn’t about moderation, it was about changing my entire life. I passed the pub, drawing a line under my old behaviour and committing to a life of abstinence.

As a sobriety mentor, I have seen every type of scenario when it comes to drinking. I’ve done more than 100 interviews on my podcast and the biggest thing I’ve learnt is that every person has an individual relationship with alcohol. They may drink because they have low self-esteem, or a current situation is making them desperately unhappy, or they are in a toxic relationship, or past traumas have led them down this path. But the most important thing for everyone is to figure out why they lean on the bottle. Dry January is an excellent process to give people the chance to explore a month off booze, and to check in with their mental and physical health. But if you just clock up the days and weeks without sorting out the reasons behind your connection to drink, then when you hit a rough patch, you’re likely to revert to old habits.

As a nation, we drink a lot. Alcohol is a highly addictive drug but it is socially acceptable and its dangers are brushed under the carpet. The government tells us to Drink Responsibly but then you walk into a supermarket and you’re met with a stack of booze before you’ve even reached the aisles. There should be a lot more awareness about the health dangers of drink.

I am confident to say I won’t drink again. I’ve created a life for myself where I don’t need alcohol to numb the pain, or to make me feel better, or to motivate me. I had a toxic relationship with alcohol, but I’ve now divorced it. I feel healthy, positive, excited about my future. I’ve climbed mountains in Nepal and Morocco, I’ve lost weight, I’ve got solid relationships, and I don’t take a single tablet for medication. I know I am worth more than that person who was drunk every day.

If you had asked me five years ago if I felt proud of myself, I would have laughed. But these days I am so proud of where I am now. I am proud of the fact I can walk into any pub and order myself a lime and soda and feel fine about it. I am proud I am alive for my son. I am proud there is another positive day waiting for me. I am proud of myself.

Sober Dave’s tips for staying off the booze after Dry January

David Wilson, 59, is a sobriety and self-development mentor. He hosts Top Ten Apple podcast One for the Road and is the author of a best-selling book of the same name.