Before I begin, I want to thank everyone who reads our blog and follows our journey. LoginToOurLife has always been about honesty. The highs, the lows, and everything in between. This post is a little heavier than usual, but it’s an important part of my story, and maybe by sharing it, it can help someone else too.
It’s been just over three years since I began my sober journey. Three years of strength, lessons, and rediscovering who I am without the fog of alcohol. But during our recent trip to Spain, I slipped. I’ve decided to talk about it, because pretending it didn’t happen helps no one, least of all me.
When we arrived in Cadaqués, everything looked perfect on the outside. The sea shimmered, the air was warm, and we were living the life we love, but inside, I was struggling.
It was my late mum’s birthday on the 26th of October, and even after though it has been eight years since she passed the grief hit me harder than I expected. The kind of ache that quietly builds in the background until it’s all you can hear.
On the 27th, while Stephen went to drop off the hire car, I made a choice that I wish I hadn’t. I drank. I told myself it would help, that it might silence my thoughts even just for a while.
The shame came quickly after, and so did the disappointment in myself. I’d been here before. I knew this path. And still, at that moment, I wasn’t strong enough to step away.
When we got back to the UK, I felt hollow. The guilt lingered, and I started to distance myself from Stephen. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know how to face what I’d done.
That evening, everything became too much. I drove to the supermarket, bought two bottles of spirits, and planned to drive somewhere quiet to drink. I just wanted a break from the constant noise in my mind.
As I was driving, Stephen called. I ignored it. Then came his message: “Please come back.”
And that broke me. It was the simplest message, but it hit me deep in the pit of my stomach. I turned around and drove home, and I told Stephen the truth.
I wish I could say I instantly felt better, but recovery doesn’t work like that. I’m now 16 days sober again, and it’s a daily challenge. Some days are heavier than others. But I’m facing it one moment at a time.
I’ve also started therapy. It’s something I’ve resisted for years as I struggle to open up to people, but I’m realising that healing means doing things differently, even uncomfortable things. I don’t want to just stay sober; I want to understand myself, forgive myself, and truly grow.
If you’re reading this, and you’re struggling too (whether it’s with addiction, grief, or the weight of your own thoughts), please know this: relapse doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re human.
I’m not proud of what happened, but I’m proud that I came back. That I didn’t let the darkness win.
We’re all just trying to become the best versions of ourselves, and sometimes that path isn’t a straight line. It’s messy, painful, and humbling, but it’s still progressing.
Wherever you are on your journey, I’m sending you love, strength, and hope. We fall, we rise, and we keep going. One honest day at a time.
Thank you for being here, for reading, and for supporting us as we continue to share the real side of life on the road. This space has become a little community of truth, growth, and connection, and I’m endlessly grateful for it.
With love,
Terri
If you’re finding it hard to cope, please don’t do it in silence. There are incredible people and organisations ready to help wherever you are in the world.
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