“I loved Jesus — so why was wine still my comfort?”

I was sitting in a pub in Battersea, a month after my mum had died. There was a bottle of wine in front of me, and it was only just after lunchtime. A girlfriend of mine walked in who had lost her own mum the year before. She glanced down at the bottle. Slightly embarrassed by the early hour, I said something like, “Still grieving, I guess.” She wrapped me in a hug and said, “Take at least a year to do what you need to do.”

I did exactly that. And then another year after that. From March 2018 to March 2020, I spent two years chasing relief through wine and skinny margaritas. Wine became the thing that helped me stay distracted and numb from the intensity of the pain I was feeling. At first, it felt understandable, even justified. My mum had died. I was heartbroken. I was still functioning, still smiling in photographs, still showing up for my two children. But slowly, almost without noticing, alcohol became woven into nearly every part of my life.

READ MORE: My husband and I gave up alcohol, and this is what happened

On March 9, 2020, the second anniversary of my mother’s death, I woke up with another crushing hangover

On March 9, 2020, the second anniversary of my mother’s death, I woke up with another crushing hangover. I was emotionally exhausted, physically depleted, and deeply sad. On the surface, my life still looked beautiful. My Instagram feed was full of smiles, holidays, and lunches with girlfriends. But underneath it all, I felt disconnected from myself, my family, and from God. That morning, in complete desperation, I cried out loud, “Jesus, I can’t do this anymore.”

I had grown up in church, and I always believed God was there. But somewhere along the way, wine had become my comfort instead of Jesus. Every afternoon, I found myself waiting for the relief of that first glass. It felt like a reward, an escape, and a way to soften the sharp edges of my life. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had started giving alcohol jobs that only God was ever meant to fulfill.

READ MORE: Do we need alcohol at Christian festivals? I’m saying a big fat ‘no’

When I decided to take a break from drinking, I knew the only person I could truly turn to was Jesus. What began as a small experiment happened to coincide with the Covid lockdowns, which honestly helped enormously because socializing disappeared overnight. For the first time in years, I had space to stop and really look at my relationship with alcohol. And what I discovered surprised me.

I realized I wasn’t just drinking for comfort. I was drinking to celebrate, to connect, to relax, to cope with stress, to fall asleep, to feel confident, and sometimes simply to get through the day. Society had taught me alcohol “worked” for all of those things. Everywhere I looked, women were being sold the same message. Wine was self-care. Wine was motherhood survival. Wine was the reward for being overwhelmed.

Romans 12:2 says, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Looking back, I can see just how deeply I had conformed to the culture around alcohol without even realizing it. I had absorbed the belief that wine was helping me cope with life. But when I started researching what alcohol actually does to the brain and body, I realized the opposite was often true.

READ MORE: ‘The most unexpected discovery I’ve made about faith after ten years of sobriety’

I learned that alcohol shuts down the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for decision-making and self-control. 

I learned that alcohol shuts down the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for decision-making and self-control. Suddenly, so much made sense. I had spent years believing my inability to “just stick to one or two glasses” was a personal failure or lack of willpower. But alcohol itself impairs the very part of the brain needed for moderation. The more I learned, the more I realized alcohol was taking far more than it was giving. I thought wine was helping my anxiety, but it was worsening it. I thought it helped me sleep, but my sleep quality was terrible. I thought it softened my grief, but in many ways it prolonged it.

So I started experimenting with better, more sustainable sources of comfort. Prayer instead of pouring a drink. Worship music instead of numbing out on the sofa. Reading my Bible in the evenings. Actually allowing myself to feel sadness instead of constantly trying to sedate it.

Slowly, something shifted. I began to feel emotionally awake again. My relationship with Jesus deepened in a way I hadn’t experienced in years. The fog started lifting. I felt more present with my husband and children. I started sleeping properly and my anxiety lessened. For the first time in a long time, I felt genuine peace instead of fleeting escape. As I became more vocal online about my sobriety journey during lockdown, women started reaching out to me. So many believed they were the only ones struggling to stop at one or two glasses of wine. Many loved Jesus deeply and yet still felt trapped in cycles of drinking they couldn’t fully explain.

What started as one exhausted prayer on a hungover morning eventually led me to become a sobriety coach helping thousands of women around the world break free from alcohol. I launched my podcast, Love Life Sober, to have honest conversations about faith, neuroscience, and drinking. Eventually, I wrote Love Life Sober: A 40-Day Alcohol Fast to Rediscover Your Joy, Improve Your Health, and Renew Your Mind because I wanted Christian women to have a compassionate, grace-filled resource that combined biblical encouragement with practical neuroscience.

I think many women are not actually looking for alcohol when they pour that nightly glass of wine. They’re looking for relief. For peace, comfort, connection and rest. I know because I was too. What I discovered on the other side of alcohol is that Jesus truly offers those things in a deeper and more lasting way than wine ever could.

If any of these issues have affected you, you can call Premier Lifeline for support. Premier Lifeline is a national, confidential helpline offering a listening ear, emotional and spiritual support from a Christian perspective. If you would like someone to talk with and pray for you, call Premier Lifeline on 0300 111 0101.