Guest Contributor – Matt Benson
I had my first drink at 13, and my last at 42. In between were three decades, a career that nearly finished me off, and a very patient self I was drowning. On May 5 2025, I woke up and decided I wasn’t drinking anymore, no ritualistic final pint ceremony, no dramatic wistful toast or white-knuckled ultimatum, no teary eyed realisation at an AA meeting. I just ran out of enthusiasm for what life was with alcohol in it and stopped. With the first anniversary of that decision just passed, I thought I’d set out my experience: the pros, the cons, the surprises, and some honest advice for anyone thinking about quitting.
Firstly…a brief history of bad ideas
“Oh, you hate your job? Why didn’t you say so? There’s a support group for that. It’s called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar.” – Drew Carey
I was introduced to alcohol from age 13, as I was regularly drinking at family events, pub meals and dinners at home. It was presented to me as a positive thing, a marker of adulthood, it’s what businessmen did and I should too. When I started working at 14 in hotel and pub kitchens, I was drinking every weekend around my shifts. By 15, I was drinking during the school week. This wasn’t secret. This was done with my parents’ knowledge. By the time I reached university, I was a confident consumer of alcohol. I drank throughout my career in the civil and diplomatic service, and as I was promoted higher and higher, ever increasingly so. By the time I resigned at age 36, I was drinking every day, excessively.
So that’s the context. Would I call myself an alcoholic? No. I didn’t then, and I wouldn’t now. I’d say I was a very highly functioning, alcohol-adjacent individual. Was it hard to stop? No, not really, hence why I wouldn’t refer to myself as an alcoholic. Dependency and addiction are very real serious issues, ones that I feel genuine empathy for those people struggling with that. This ease of stopping genuinely surprised me and I have wondered since, if stopping wasn’t physically difficult, what was I actually holding onto? A ritual, an identity, permission to numb, filling in the boredom, something else?
Why I Quit My Favorite Hobby: My Reasons Were Threefold
“It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.” – Edgar Allan Poe
Sleep. I had struggled my whole life with poor sleep. I tried every other suggested remedy: consistent wake up times; melatonin; no eating three hours before bed; magnesium; no caffeine after 2pm; morning light exposure; no screens 90 minutes before bed; reading; sacrifices made to the Gods. I’d tried them all. So I figured I’d try this one.
Health. Alcohol’s one of the most dangerous addictive substances on the planet. Alcohol related deaths each year are around 3.3 million people, that’s more than the annual death toll from HIV/AIDS or tuberculosis. About 1 in 11 adults suffer from some form of alcohol use disorder. I saw people in their 50s, 60s and 70s developing diabetes, having high cholesterol, and other diseases, and I didn’t want that future. I also always remembered Professor David Nutt being fired by the UK Government for saying he disagreed with the drug classification system, saying it should be based on the science of harm, which he suggested alcohol was number one, heroin second and tobacco third. That stuck with me since 2010.
Depression. Alcohol is well-known as a central nervous system depressant, slowing down brain activity. It might feel like it’s relaxing you, but chemically it’s slowing you down, killing your coordination and dulling your mood. So while that first drink feels like a lift, it’s actually a class 1 depressant, sedating your brain, disrupting your sleep, shrouding your mind in a chemical haze, and all the while I thought it was helping me cope. I had suffered from depression since I was a small child, mostly untreated until the age of 33. So, I decided I no longer wanted to risk my mental health for a pint or 10.
The Pros, Pretty Standard, Annoyingly Real
“Sobriety is not deprivation, it is the refusal to rent your mind.” Mokokoma Mokhonoana
· I got better sleep, it took a while, but the difference was undeniable. Even one drink affects sleep patterns, nevermind multiple.
· I have more energy, a sharper mind, I feel less groggy and less lethargic with better focus.
· I have more money. Seriously. I spent a lot less. A. Lot.
· I feel less depressed, not just because alcohol is a depressant, but by stopping it allowed me to process traumatic events in therapy without numbing myself.
· I no longer have acid reflux. None. Zero.
· I have clearer skin, brighter eyes and get fewer illnesses. I didn’t expect the scale of the improvement, especially my immune system.
Surprising Positives, Things I Didn’t See Coming
“After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.” – Oscar Wilde
· I was able to realign my lifestyle, as removing a major social element left me bored and restless, but I sat with it. Eventually, I started reshaping my life toward my actual preferences, not whatever involved a bar.
· I didn’t feel any social pressure to drink or awkwardness about telling people I didn’t drink anymore. I was proud not to be drinking.
· I felt more connected to myself and less disconnected from the world. This allowed me to process trauma more effectively, meaning the underlying depressive conditions stopped dominating my thought patterns.
· I increased self-trust as I kept a promise to myself, which built respect, quietly in the background, providing a foundation for more.
· I didn’t have to smell alcohol anymore, not on me, not on others, not on my clothes, not in uncleaned bars sodden in it. I hadn’t anticipated how much I would come to find that smell so off putting.
· I spend more time being productive and creative. Writing and thinking more, being more present. I act more on my thoughts instead of losing them at the bottom of a glass.
· I outgrew certain friends, which isn’t a criticism of them. Some people are for a fun time, not a long time, and that’s ok.
· I had dreams about drinking, then when I’d wake up convinced it was real, I’d feel genuinely sad and embarrassed. But then came the realisation it was only a dream and in came the relief, which was sweeter than any pint.
· My eyes stopped itching, so I needed to rub them less. I assume this is down to being more hydrated.
The Honest Cons, But Not Catastrophes
“Alcohol is the cause of—and solution to—all of life’s problems.” Homer Simpson
· I lost some of my traditional social spaces, which honestly, I haven’t fully replaced yet.
· The loss of one numbing agent can lead to other negative coping strategies if you’re not careful. I went to the gym a lot and ran my energy into the floor. I started to use my phone more. But these too can be overcome.
· I miss talking to people in bars, which I know I can still do, but honestly, I find bars depressing places to be now.
· I found it hard looking for alternatives to drink instead. Most options are full of alcohol, sugar, additives, or acid.
· I had sugar cravings, especially in the early months, as the body misses the sugar from alcohol.
· I had some boredom and restlessness. Drinking was my main social activity, so that’s a lot of time to replace, but that’s also an opportunity.
· I lost binding activities with some people, but they drift away and new people emerge.
· I needed to reset my emotional thermostat, which takes time. You have to walk through it, not around it. Patience and self-compassion I found were essential.
False negatives, Things I Feared That Turned Out To Be Pros
“I went out with a guy who once told me I didn’t need to drink to make myself more fun to be around. I told him, I’m drinking so that you’re more fun to be around.” – Chelsea Handler
· “Emotions will feel overwhelming.” Actually, processing traumatic events sober meant alleviating those issues. I learned to cope with stress and anxiety better, not by ignoring, forgetting, or distracting, but by addressing. Grief and loss don’t go away when you mask them.
· “I’ll lose my social scene.” I learned to socialize differently, outside bars, sometimes with different people, sometimes the same. Without alcohol. It was fine, if not a little daunting at times.
· “I won’t be fun anymore.” Yes, alcohol is liberating, but doing things you’d only do with Dutch courage, sober, is significantly more liberating, as it felt more real for me.
· “No way to celebrate or commiserate.” Finding new ways to mark life’s moments without alcohol felt like liberation. Remembering my brother’s death date is better done sober, remembering him after processing his death, rather than spending all day on my own in a Scottish bar in Copenhagen drinking away unprocessed trauma.
Helpful Strategies, What Actually Worked For Me
“I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish.” – Anne Lamott
· Water as default. Simple. Cheap. Healthy. No need to search for unhealthy alternatives.
· Sit with boredom. It passes, and reveals what you actually want to do.
· Don’t feel ashamed to tell people you aren’t drinking, be upfront and honest as to why. It’s fine, people who understand will, those that can’t, wont anyway.
· Therapy alongside sobriety (for me at least). Removing alcohol without processing trauma (if you have any) just leaves you raw. Do both.
· One promise at a time. I didn’t overhaul everything on May 5. I just didn’t drink that day. Then the next. Weeks, became months, which turned into a year.
· Let friendships drift peacefully. No dramatic exits. Less bar time, more silence. The people who remained were the real ones.
· Replaced locations incompletely but honestly. I write more. I spend more time alone because I enjoy my own company. I sit in sunshine at coffee shops in the morning rather than dingy bars at night. I wake earlier and enjoy the quiet. Have I fully replaced the old locations? No, I don’t need to find external locations for myself any longer.
Advice If You’re Thinking About Stopping
“Sobriety delivers what alcohol promises: ease, confidence, and presence.” Jessica Dore
· You don’t have to call yourself an alcoholic. I never did. You just have to be curious about what life feels like without it.
· The first month, you might not sleep better. You might crave sugar. You might feel angry or hollow. Don’t mistake withdrawal for your new normal, which will come.
· Go cold turkey, rip the plaster off.
· Sit with the discomfort, don’t distract, the answers may surprise you.
· The question isn’t “Can I have fun without alcohol?” It’s “Was I actually having fun with it?”
· If stopping isn’t physically hard for you, ask my question: What am I actually holding onto? The answer might surprise you.
By the Numbers, Estimated Daily Averages
“I spent half my money on alcohol, women, and gambling. The other half I wasted.” – W.C. Fields
These are estimates, not scientifically monitored or calculated, and likely an underestimate to be frank.
· Hours reclaimed: 3 hours/day × 365 = 1,095 hours, or 45 full days
· Money saved: £20/day × 365 = £7,300
· Hangover-free mornings: 365
· Acid reflux episodes: 0
· Colds and illnesses: 1 instead of near constant
· Mental and physical health improvements: priceless
What This Year Taught Me
“Here’s to alcohol, the rose-colored glasses of life.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
This year taught me I never needed the alcohol. I am more confident without it. I cope better emotionally without it. I can still dance badly without it. Stopping drinking was part of a larger package: cutting out toxic family, romantic, and friend relationships; stopping eating meat and fish; cutting sugary drinks; reducing processed food; eating more whole foods. All of these things added up to improve my health, but cutting alcohol was a significant part.
I can sit with myself now and not fall to pieces. I can process trauma and understand what has happened to me. I can move forward, not with unbound confidence, not even with a clear direction, but with a knowing, that I can face whatever comes next, because I’ve faced all manner of things tipsy, drunk, hungover, and sober. And I am still here.
One year sober hasn’t fixed me, but it has stopped me from breaking myself further, and that, for now, is enough.
Matt Benson is a former diplomat and humanitarian emergency manager who led conflict and disaster responses across Africa, Asia, and the Middle East for over a decade. Now in recovery from complex trauma, rooted in childhood and frontline work, he writes about geopolitics, history, C-PTSD recovery and travel.
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