🍺 Re-evaluating my relationship with alcohol

Bit of a change of tone here - and honestly, a tough one to post. It’s personal, and makes me feel a little exposed in a way that tech posts don’t. It also makes me accountable, and that’s uncomfortable. Because let’s be real: I could post this today, and in a few months things might change again.

Anyway, here we go.

In a nutshell, I’ve decided to change my relationship with alcohol. Not because I’m an alcoholic, and not because I’ve suddenly developed a hatred for Guinness. But something did happen recently that made me seriously pause and reflect.

Now, I’m not saying I’ll never touch alcohol again - the temptation of an Efes on a boat in Turkey might simply be too powerful - but I’m committing to a real change for the next 3-6 months, and maybe beyond.

This post is about what triggered this. It’s not meant to be preachy. I’ve had incredible nights with alcohol at the centre, and I may have more in the future. But writing helps me process things, and sharing it here helps me stay accountable.

So… here’s how my sabbatical ended with a bang.

💥 Ending my sabbatical with a bang

The turning point came right at the end of an incredible month in Vietnam and Thailand. One minute everything was normal; the next I was waking up confused, injured, and trying to piece together what had just happened. My wife was upset, I was disoriented and frustrated, and this definitely wasn’t how the trip was supposed to end.

So what actually happened?

The short version: I missed my epilepsy medication twice in a row.

The longer version: A month of travel - late nights, early mornings, poor diet, heat, airports, long transfers - and yes, drinking… daily. None of that directly caused the seizure, but it created the exact environment my brain doesn’t handle well. By the time the trip was ending, I’d slipped up, missed my medication twice, and that was enough.

I had my second seizure as we were descending into Doha. One moment I was upright and functioning; the next I was waking up with a dislocated shoulder and a broken upper arm.

Alcohol didn’t cause the seizure. Missing my medication was the biggest factor. But alcohol certainly didn’t help. The consequences of drinking alcohol include things like disrupted sleep, dehydration and exhaustion. People with JME especially don’t do well with these things, and throughout the month of October 2025, I’d been stacking late, alcohol-fuelled nights like football stickers.

🛌 Forced reflection

In the days and weeks that followed when I was back in Berlin, all I had was time. My arm was unusable, I needed help with almost everything, and I realised I’d basically been dealing with my epilepsy on “hard mode” for no good reason.

When life forces you to stop, your brain finally gets a chance to catch up. For me, the thought was simple:

“Alright… maybe my relationship with alcohol does deserve a look.”

Things started slowly. I never wanted to give up alcohol - not even after the second seizure. My first instinct was actually to figure out how I could keep drinking, just… safer. But as I started reading more about alcohol, listening to other people’s stories, and learning how it affects sleep, mood, energy and long-term health, something shifted.

The more I learned, the harder it became to ignore how much alcohol had been sitting quietly in the background of my life, shaping things I never questioned. And as much as I enjoy it, I started to realise something uncomfortable: Maybe it’s simply not worth it.

👀 Looking back at my drinking story

If you grew up in Scotland (as in many places), you probably grew up around alcohol. For me it was part of almost every event:

• family gatherings
• birthdays
• football
• festivals
• sunny days
• days ending in “y”

I drank a bit when I was underage, but when I turned 18, going to the pub felt like being accepted into adulthood. From there, I fell straight into the same patterns as everyone around me. I’d grown up watching people drink most nights, and drinking was celebrated - so stepping into that world felt completely normal.

I never questioned any of it. Nobody did. Soon I found myself living for the weekend. I was so content working Monday-Friday, getting my weekly money, and spending it all on nights out that I genuinely considered dropping out of university to do that forever.

Thankfully, a friend talked some sense into me. I finished university, got into working life, and kept the weekend drinking tradition alive - sometimes even midweek. I even went to the pub after the gym as a treat. Peak athlete behaviour.

Fast forward to 2019: I moved to Berlin. And Berlin has its own drinking culture entirely. There was beer in the office fridges. Yes, in the office. Before long, I was watching the clock creep toward 4pm so I could justify that first office drink. Germany even has the phrase “Kein Bier vor vier” - no beer before four - which felt like permission, or even motivation to have a beer at 4pm.

It was fun. It was social. I became a reliable, always-up-for-it drinking buddy. If anyone offered me a beer, I accepted. If anyone offered another, I rarely said no. But I never once stopped to question what it was doing to me. Even after my first seizure in 2022 - when the doctor literally told me to slow down - I didn’t.

Looking back now, it’s mental how automatic it all was. Drinking wasn’t even a conscious decision, it was just a default setting, and I never properly questioned it until now.

➡️ Next post: What alcohol was taking - and what it was actually giving

This is already getting long, but in the next part I’ll be waffling about:

• the subtle ways alcohol impacts me
• the things it gives me (or at least, what I think it gives me)
• previous attempts at changing, and why this one feels different
• the summer party where I stayed sober

So eh… cheers for reading? 🍻