"I worry about my drinking all the time."

I drink a bottle – sometimes a bottle and a half – of white or red wine every evening. I had my first drink the day I started university. It was fun. Over the years, it became a habit; then, over the decades, a crutch. Now it’s a serious habit and an essential crutch.

My mother was an alcoholic. Growing up, I was only vaguely aware of her drinking. She often had falls, or was just “sick” and would go off to bed. I thought nothing of it and was unaware that alcoholism was a dangerous familial flaw. Dad drank every night, too, but not during the day like Mum did.

I married my college boyfriend. Life in the 1970s was one long dinner party, and we both drank heavily – wine and beer, never spirits (fortunately). My husband and I were both working, and we followed the dictum of “work hard, play hard”.

When I was expecting our first child, my mother came to live near us after my father died following a long and terrible illness. Mum’s drinking had escalated. She would go to the local hair salon totally pissed, and fall asleep while they did her hair. I’d have to pick her up and help her stagger to the car!

During both of my pregnancies I totally abstained from alcohol, but I then resumed drinking on a daily basis when I finished breast-feeding each of my children. I would pour my first glass at around six and drink until bedtime. Our second child was a difficult infant who would grow into a highly strung child and then a troubled adolescent. Most of the parenting fell to me, as my husband’s time and attention were taken up with his career, which involved a lot of travel. With Mum living nearby, I tried to limit her drinking at the same time as I became more and more dependent on my own nightly bottle of wine.

Mum then developed a terminal illness; I cared for her at home during her last six months. By this time my husband’s career had become the most important thing in his life; the children and I came somewhere further down his list of priorities.

Our second child had serious issues, which reached a peak in his teenage years. He would leave the house late at night and roam the neighbourhood, getting into drugs and trouble. Surprisingly, he did quite well at school and spent some time at college in another country. Still, I had to fly in on rescue missions on numerous occasions to sort out the mess when he was arrested, hospitalised in a psych ward, or got into other difficult situations. My husband was always too busy with work to join me on these trips. Feeling acutely anxious about my son’s welfare and future prospects, I started drinking during the day. It was only a little, as I needed to be able to drive; I drank just enough, and often enough, to dull my fears a little. Once back in my home country I wouldn’t drink during the day unless there was another major crisis involving my son.

Then I found out that my husband was having a serious affair, and we separated. It was awful and devastating. I became “paralysed” and fearful, and spent all my time driving around mindlessly in the car … anywhere, everywhere. I didn’t drink during the day, but evening drinking was my go-to.

I realised I needed proper help for my “paralysis” and saw a psychiatrist (who prescribed antidepressants), a counsellor, and a lawyer. Slowly, the fog cleared and I began to feel happier about my circumstances. I never felt as lonely after that time as I had felt when my husband was present in our home but unavailable to me in any real sense. But I still drank every night.

I have completely stopped drinking during the day. (If there is a crisis, my doctor lets me have a few Xanax.) But I structure my evenings around drinking. When I realised I was regularly finishing a bottle and a half of wine I started diluting it with water, so I now mostly have just the one bottle.

I look forward to “wine o’clock” each evening as a way to relax. But I can’t really relax if I think I won’t have enough; that I’ll run out. I feel that wine controls me, not me it. If I’m going out, I worry that there might not be alcohol available and I take a glass or two before I leave home, just in case. Very occasionally I’ve misjudged the amount and found myself staggering, or slurring my words.

I worry about my drinking all the time. I hate that I feel I have to have alcohol every day. It’s affecting my health. I have high triglycerides. I know I’d be slimmer if I didn’t drink. I don’t know what the answer is. I don’t believe in a “higher power”, so I don’t think the solution for me lies in a 12-step recovery group. But I’m really battling to manage my drinking. I’d like to stop. I’ve tried by myself and I couldn’t do it. I feel I’m a terrible role model for my children. My second child drinks daily, including during the day, and I know how it creeps up on you. I used to feel embarrassed by my mother’s alcoholism, but now I feel sorry for her.

I think there are probably women like me everywhere; functioning alcoholics who love their family and friends, who are generally happy, who try to be kind and to make others happy. I’m trying to improve my lifestyle in other ways – by eating healthily and regularly, and by taking daily exercise.

If I felt able to leave my adult child without fear of a catastrophic event that would involve fire, police, or ambulance – as has happened many times in the past – I would go to rehab.

—   Margot, 61