The Daily Telegraph - Features
I drank a litre of vodka a night – here’s how I quit the booze
Five years ago, Dave Wilson was drinking himself to death, but Dry January helped him turn his life around
At my worst, I was drinking a bottle of vodka every day. I weighed over 20 stone, my blood pressure was life-threatening, my cholesterol was hitting 8.6 and I was on various medications, including antidepressants. 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 a great solution.
As I moved into my 20s, the boozing continued. I was always in the pub near where I lived, knocking back pint after pint.
I even earnt the nickname “Glugs” because I downed them so quickly. One night, a 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 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 the thought of my next drink was always lurking in the background.
Then, when I was 48, I got an 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. Looking back, I felt like a horrible person. I wrecked relationships, I became more bitter, I didn’t care what people thought of me, and it 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, a miracle happened. My good friend Piers texted me, and rather than being judgmental, he said he knew how badly I was struggling, and suggested I join him for Dry January. 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’d 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.
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 (called One for the Road) 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.
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. I am proud of myself.