Sobriety Diary: Week 5—Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde Part 2

How trauma shaped a decade of drinking.

Dates:

Days Sober:

I came crashing out of the States.

It felt like every distressing experience I’d had there compounded and came flooding over me. Shame, hollowness, the belief I wasn’t worthy of love, loneliness, all festered, leaving a gaping hole in my chest that was infested with anxiety.

I disinfected it with wine.

2015–2017: Copenhagen

I decided to finish my bachelor's degree online. I never wanted to set foot on a physical campus again. I didn’t want to make friends. I didn’t want to be stared at or touched. I just wanted to be left alone.

All I wanted was to keep my head down, do the work, and get my degree.

So, I enrolled in an online university. I did my classes in my parents’ study, usually with Buller, our sweet golden retriever, lying at my feet. If I studied in the evening, there was always wine. How I managed good grades is beyond me.

With the freedom to study from anywhere, I moved to Copenhagen. Though I grew up in a Danish-speaking household and held a Danish passport, I’d never actually lived there. So in May 2015, I packed my bags and began my love affair with the land of hygge.

Good things happened in Copenhagen. I fell in love with the culture, the rhythm of life—which is ultimately why I returned in 2020.

I got my first proper job, working as a sales assistant at Wolford in the city’s biggest shopping mall.

My music career also started in Copenhagen. This is where I met my co-writer, who I’ve now been working with for nearly 10 years. Next to my part-time retail job and my song-writing, I managed to finish my bachelor's degree in the summer of 2016.

I had my very own graduation ceremony where my talented seamstress-cousin sewed me a custom fuchsia gown. Instead of a cap, I wore a flower crown and instead of the usual monotonous grey backdrop for your grad photos, mine was sunny Kastellet (my favourite park), surrounded by people I loved.

I had a few friends and I dated but nothing stuck. Life was seemingly chugging along at an okay pace.

But I couldn’t shake the loneliness or the drink.

At my worst, I drank two bottles of wine a night. If that didn’t settle me, I’d walk to the nearby kiosk and buy a tub of liquorice ice cream—usually finishing it in one sitting.

Often when I arrived, Ginny—the long-haired sausage dog—was tied up outside the store. Her owner, usually deep in conversation with the shop attendant and likely as drunk as I was, would complain that people thought he was cruel for leaving her there. He kind of was.

During daytime errands I’d often see her sitting outside and she’d still be there when I was on my way back home. I’d always stop and give her scratches, which is what prompted his comments.

I went to therapy. We talked about the States. We talked about everything. Including the drinking.

Mainly, I focused on the topics driving me to drink, hoping that if we untied those knots, the alcohol issue would solve itself. I was also deeply ashamed of the amount I was drinking so I tried not to bring it up too much in therapy, when really I should’ve torn into it. Bulldozed at it until the screws on the metal doors fell out. But I wasn’t ready.

I know now that there is no “right time” to cut back or stop. You just have to do it and then build your life around that decision. But telling someone to quit drinking is a bit like telling someone how to lose weight: They know: less calories + more exercise = weight loss. They’re not stupid. It’s marrying mind with motion that’s hard. The execution.

November 2016: Turning Point

Eventually, I did gain a grasp on my drinking.

Tired of antidepressants, therapy, the clinical approach of the West, and my flatlined feeling toward life, I went searching for something different. A new way of being. That’s when a friend told me about an Ayurvedic retreat in India.

I went in November 2016—and it changed my life.

At this point, Copenhagen was less rosy. I had quit my job in October and my friendship circle had splintered. The loneliness was amplified and once again, I felt untethered.

When I returned from the Ayurvedic retreat, I came back with a new zest for life. Their holistic approach had inspired me, and I began incorporating everything they’d taught.

It was relatively easy to commit, With no job or friends really, there were few distractions to impede on my health journey. The drinking dwindled down to max. three times a week where I would usually see family or go on dates.

I created morning and evening routines filled with anti-stress rituals that helped regulate my nervous system. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was truly taking care of myself.

After years of drinking and binge eating, I’d gained a lot of weight. But slowly, the weight came off—and I began feeling good in my body again.

Once again, I was living an isolated life—but this time, alcohol wasn’t masking the loneliness. With nothing aside from music anchoring me to Copenhagen, I knew I had to make some decisions about my future.

I decided to move back to London and pursue a Master’s degree in marketing.

2017–2018: London Round Two

If I had spent most nights alone in the States and in Copenhagen, my second stint in London could not have been more different. My social life exploded—and I was grateful.

There was something to do nearly every night—and nearly every plan involved alcohol.

Although I’d significantly cut back on drinking after the retreat, I had never practiced abstaining in social settings. Those 4–5 dry nights a week were easy—they were just me, alone in my flat, with no triggers. But alcohol is so embedded in how we socialise that it didn’t even occur to me to stop drinking in public settings.

For the first time since high school finished, I didn’t feel lonely. I was so appreciative of the camaraderie and connection, but I was also overwhelmed.

I couldn’t keep up with the pace but I had massive FOMO—I wanted to be a part of the buzz after having felt deprived of it for so long.

Slowly but surely, the drinking crept back up and so did my weight. I was alarmed, but I told myself once my Master’s was finished, the stress would lift and I’d return to my Ayurvedic practices.

Despite my blossoming social life, the shadows of my past still lingered.

Toward the end of the year, I briefly dated someone. One night, I opened up rather casually about what had happened in college. It’s strange, but even though I rationally knew it was horrible, it hadn’t yet landed emotionally.

Whenever I told those stories, I knew they sounded mad. But it would take almost a decade before I actually felt the emotional weight in my body when speaking about what happened.

As I told him these stories, I reassured him: nothing was ever as bad as the clinic. That was the only chapter that could still stir real emotion.

He looked at me horrified and said that the college experiences I had told him about seemed much worse.

After that he stopped seeing me.

All our dates included a lot of alcohol. I can only guess why he backed out but I’m sure he found the alcohol excessive and likely found me to be too broken, and the acknowledgement of my past hurts too much to handle.

After that, I stopped telling the people I dated about what happened on campus. I don’t think I even told my last boyfriend.

2018–2020: Switzerland and Copenhagen

I finished my Master’s in August 2018. In true Amanda fashion, I had taken on far too much and burned out. Like so many others, I carried the belief that if my calendar wasn’t packed, I wasn’t being productive—and if I wasn’t productive, I wasn’t successful. So I stretched myself thin. I’ve been doing that since I was 13—the same age I developed an eating disorder.

Before graduation, I returned to Switzerland for a while. My medication was increased.

After six months of being in Switzerland after graduation, I decided to move back to Copenhagen.

I don’t know why I expected Copenhagen round two to be different. Maybe I was influenced by how well London round two had gone.

Sometimes, I wonder if loneliness is just an intrinsic part of my being. That maybe it’s what helps me be an empath and see the world through a softer lens. Maybe it’s the price for being creative and liking to sit in my nooks and crannies writing. Maybe it just is an extension of me.

My drinking trajectory from my Master’s didn’t slow down. It just continued.

If you’re annoyed, rolling your eyes at this point thinking “Come on, get a grip Amanda”, don’t worry, I did too.

Every morning, I would wake worried that I’d drink that night. I’d feel fine during the day, confident that I could skip the wine. But come evening, I was like a moth to flame going to Irma’s wine section.

I was riddled with guilt and shame. It was as if my body was on auto-pilot, I just couldn’t help myself. It felt like the wine aisle would throw a lasso around me and drag me in. It’s incredible and terrifying what your brain will do when it’s dependent.

You might wonder why no one said anything. Of course, people close to me noticed. But when you live alone, there’s no one to police you.

I also didn’t fit the image most people have someone with a dependency issue (myself included). I wasn’t drinking in the mornings. I worked out. I ran errands. I excelled at my jobs and academics.

On paper, I was functioning.

I also think many take comfort in others’ short comings because it justifies their own: whether it be cigarettes, a problematic sweet tooth, binge eating or dabbling with drugs. Seeing me drink too much likely made their own habits feel less extreme.

If I could continuously fuck up, they could remain on their own problematic paths as well.

Visitors thought our heavy wine nights were one-offs—just a little too much fun. They assumed we’d course-correct the next day.

My neighbours didn’t notice because I didn’t speak to anyone. And the recycling station was so full of bottles, there was no way to pin it on one person.Turns out I wasn’t the only one in the area who liked to drink.

I was extremely frustrated with myself. I hated who I was. I kept thinking: If I just find a boyfriend, it’ll get better. If I get a job—or a better job—it’ll get better. If my music breaks through, it’ll get better. If family stuff calms down, if my friendships smooth out…Then I’ll be okay.

I reasoned that once life sorted itself out, I’d quit drinking. But the irony is, once you decide to control your life, then things change.

2020–2022: The Wheels Come Off

In December 2020, I moved back to Switzerland. Copenhagen round two had mostly been a copy-paste of the first: cute, but without the community.

In 2023, I released an EP called I Was Sad For 4 Years. That title wasn’t a gimmick—2019 through 2022 were brutal.

I won’t go into all of it, but my alcohol use never slowed. And by then, my body was starting to show it.

By October 2022, I was the heaviest I had ever been.

I was struggling to find a job after moving back to Switzerland and the pandemic had been rough.

I’d taken an internship—not because I wanted to, but because my then-boyfriend said I wasn’t serious about job hunting if I wouldn’t entertain internships at nearly 30. I applied to prove him wrong, got one, but it never turned into a full-time role and by the time I got it, our relationship was over too.

I was swollen from alcohol. The binge drinking and late night takeouts that accumulated were finally showing and no amount of cardio or activity I was doing could mask it.

The glory days of my metabolism in my early 20s gave way to evidence that I was not taking care of myself. My period became irregular (hello, PCOS) and my blood pressure soared.

Vanity became my motivator—I couldn’t ignore the mirror anymore. Ayurveda had helped me once before, so I went in search of a practitioner again.

2023 – Now: Reclaiming My Health

I started seeing Prachi in April 2022, but it wasn’t until 2023 that our work really began to gain traction.

I remember her asking if I could try just one night a week without alcohol. My brain immediately went into a frenzy. But slowly—through patience and a ton of self-compassion—I began to cut back.

We began by implementing stress-reducing techniques: breathwork, meditation, oiling, herbal supplements, homemade teas. We worked on getting me off antidepressants and building solid morning and evening routines. These things took time, but once they were embedded, the change came faster.

Slowly the weight started coming off and with each new milestone, I was more motivated to introduce more practices. I started lifting weights again, and got more intentional about food. But most importantly, I began to cherish my alcohol-free nights.

Changing your health habits changes everything. Letting go of what doesn’t serve you often means reshaping your social life. I had to take a step back from people I usually drank with and I started saying “no” to weekday plans—not yet confident enough to go out and order mocktails instead.

My morning and evening routines had become my anchors. They kept my drinking in check, and I didn’t want anyone disrupting them. They were sacred. Cutting down to “only” drinking 2–3 times a week was a massive win. The next step was to reduce the quantity too—ideally just a glass or two.

One of my biggest joys was getting to 9 p.m. and realizing the magnetic pull to buy wine wasn’t there. I was so wrapped up in real self-care and loving my peace that the urge had stopped being a nightly guest. That felt like real change.

I was more present for myself and others. I was better able to process emotions, I was clearer in my creativity, bolder and more confident. Waking up without a hangover and finally realising that sleep is much deeper, sounder and healing without wine, opened me up to a whole new world.

For the first time in years, I felt “normal.”

But then things got wobbly.

Readjustment

At the start of 2025, I felt my energy dipping.I figured I just needed to get stricter: tighten my diet, tighten my routines, tighten my grip on everything.

At the same time, I leaned hard into dating (I’ve documented this in my three part series about dating in 2025).

My lifestyle changes had left me feeling more confident and I felt ready to put myself out there. But with every failed date and disappointment, something chipped away. And something akin to the feelings of my past started to rise again.

Music. Dating. Work. Routines. Family. Friends.It all became too much.I hit burnout.

From May until July, I saw an uptick in my drinking and the confidence I had had in myself started waning. I lost my mojo, but I was hell bent on not letting my drinking slip back to what it had been.

The many fantasies I had had of completely cutting alcohol out of my life for a bit, were seeds that had been planted years ago in my brain and I knew it was time to water them.

This time, instead of letting a rough patch pull me under, and using feeling down as an excuse to drink, I chose a different response. It was time for alcohol to take a back seat so that I could truly focus on getting my health back.

I think this is how I know I’ve changed. Instead of reverting back to old patterns when things got hard, I chose a different response. I’m proud of that.

Real transformation happens slowly and in the background, often unsung. But with quiet consistency, it shows up with a force when the tough days hit.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself for now. 

#alcohol #sobriety #sobrietydiary