Serving Up Sobriety –
Dec. 29, 2019 – Alcoholism had crept up on me, disguised as a friend to ease the social anxieties of newfound minor fame, a lubricant for awkward situations and parties where people I recognised from television peered over my shoulder while making small talk, looking for someone more noteworthy to flit off to chat to. I filled in trauma wounds with ethanol, I became louder, bolder, wearing my booze-soaked persona like armour against impostor syndrome and rooms full of thinner, more beautiful people … I found myself pinned to walls by household-name male journalists, who forced their hands inside my shirt and tongues in my mouth, while telling myself I had asked for it, getting in that state. I lost count of the number of boozy lunches with people I considered peers and colleagues that ended with disquieting gropes in the back of taxis and the niggling feeling that I should really stop allowing myself to be so vulnerable.
