Like Adele, I tried to do ‘Stoptober’; but failed – what does that say about my relationship with drinking?

As I held one finger up to the camera and smiled, a feeling of pride washed over me. The next day, when I held two fingers up, the pride had swollen into something even larger, like heroism.

It was 2 October, and I was onto my second day of sobriety. Documenting it with selfies each day felt like a way to keep myself accountable and celebrate each small win. I was feeling fresh, energised, and more motivated than ever before. That was until day six, when I had three glasses of wine. And then another three on day seven.

The idea of Stoptober has always appealed to me. Just as Dry January has been something I’ve often attempted – and ultimately failed – to uphold. I was reminded of my somewhat feeble stabs at sobriety this week when I read reports that Adele had recently given up drinking. Yes, the Adele whose latest album included a song titled “I Drink Wine”, the video for which sees her floating down a canal in a gold sequin dress with a glass of rose in one hand, and a bottle in the other – she drinks from the glass intermittently throughout.

And yet, the 35-year-old singer claims not to have had a drop of alcohol for the past three months. “I mean, I was literally borderline alcoholic for quite a lot of my twenties, but I miss it so much,” she is said to have told a fan. The admission comes just months after Adele told a Las Vegas audience that she once drank four bottles of wine before lunch during lockdown.

To be clear, this is not something I have done, nor do I consider myself a “borderline alcoholic”. But I do worry about my relationship with drinking. And as I near the end of my twenties, I’ve noticed that those worries are taking up an increasing amount of headspace. Every time I venture out in the evening, whether it’s for dinner or even just to see a play, I spend a considerable amount of time thinking about whether or not I will drink, if other people will be drinking, and what excuse I will give if I choose not to.

This is partly based on past experience (there have been dangerous, and rather terrifying, blackouts) and fears about how it might hold me back in my career. Drinking affects my sleep, my skin, and just about everything else. Because even several days after I’ve had a few drinks, the afternoons are often characterised by a dim mental fogginess that makes it hard to concentrate.

Maybe I’m thinking about this more because more people around me are going sober, or at least reconsidering their relationship to alcohol. For some, it’s because they had a problem and for others, it’s because they were concerned, and wanted to make sure they never had one in the future.

Given this, it’s no longer big a deal if one of us shows up to a social event and states they will be sober for the evening. And yet, it’s still something I struggle to do. So much so that I’ve started declaring periods of sobriety to friends in advance so they can hold me accountable. But there’s only so much they can do.

The trouble is that whenever I do manage to go through prolonged periods of not drinking, I feel great. So great that I wonder why I ever touch the stuff in the first place. Then, inevitably, it’s someone’s birthday, someone’s wedding, or someone’s hen do.

“I think I’ve been drunk every weekend since June,” I recently confided in a friend. “Mate, me too,” she said. “It’s not good, is it?” And honestly, I don’t think it is. I should be able to go at least a whole weekend without drinking, shouldn’t I?

I would like to try a period of sobriety. A proper one that lasts longer than five days, or a few weeks – I’ve only ever managed this when some sort of medical issue has stopped me drinking. So consider this my advance warning, alcohol: our time together might be coming to an end soon. At least for a little while.