Health
Belinda faced her grey area drinking and it changed her life
After years of problematic drinking, Belinda Stark, 56, made the quiet, powerful decision to stop. What followed was more than just sobriety: it was a complete rediscovery of self.
By Elli Jacobs
It all started after my divorce in my late 20s. Up until then, I wasn’t much of a drinker, not even in my teens. But after the divorce, alcohol became a crutch. A bottle of wine from time to time helped me cope with everything: stress, celebration, sadness.
I constantly told myself it wasn’t a problem. I was high-functioning, holding down a job, raising kids, meeting responsibilities. I believed I had it under control because I could stop for a while. And sometimes, I did. I'd take breaks – a month off here or there, but it always circled back like an old friend. Or maybe more accurately, a frenemy.
That’s the reality of grey area drinking – that confusing, hard-to-define space between casual use and full-blown alcoholism. I wasn’t blacking out or hiding bottles, it wasn’t about weekend binges or partying. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right, quietly asking myself, “Is this really, okay?”
The inner negotiation
In my late 40s, I started noticing patterns – tiredness, low moods, anxiety, waking up at 3 am, heart racing with anxiety and regret.
I would promise myself no more drinking. But by midafternoon, the inner negotiation begins: just one glass, I’ve earned it. And before I knew it, the bottle was open and I’d be off. It felt like an escape, a way to tune out and soften the edges of my busy mind.
That cycle – coping, regretting, negotiating, drinking – became my normal. It was unconscious, habitual and quietly destructive. I wasn’t falling apart on the outside, but inside I was stuck in a loop of sadness, anxiety and self-disappointment.
And then there was the ‘mummy wine culture’ that grew louder after 2010, all those memes and jokes about ‘mummy’s wine o’clock.’ I was part of that and it made me feel seen and justified.
Then COVID hit. In Victoria, the lockdowns were long and hard. Liquor stores were considered ‘essential services’ and that somehow became just another layer of justification on top of the pile…
Something had to change
Everything changed in December 2022, when I woke up at age 53 with the shakes and a deep sense of unease. The room was swaying and I felt a kind of disorientation I’d never experienced before.
I Googled my symptoms and quickly spiralled into a rabbit hole of information about what alcohol can do to the brain – disorientation, brain fog, even lasting damage. It terrified me. I’d known some of this already but always brushed it off. This time, I couldn’t. I was frightened, and I knew something had to change.
Read this too: Rethink the ‘just one drink’ mindset
I wanted more for myself and for my sons. I craved presence, health and clarity. But what came next wasn’t just about quitting alcohol; it was a complete identity shift. I had to let go of the woman who needed wine to feel okay and finally face what I’d been numbing for years.
One thought kept haunting me: my eldest son. He was in a loving, stable relationship and I began to picture the future – what if they had children? Would I be the kind of grandmother they couldn’t trust to babysit? That vision stopped me cold; it broke my heart. I couldn’t bear the thought of missing out on the life I deeply wanted to be part of.
The space between sips
Still, I was terrified. Alcohol had become part of who I was: my nightly ritual, my comfort, my companion. Letting it go felt like losing a best friend. But deep down, I knew. If I didn’t stop now, it would only get worse.
That was the first big step. I told my GP then I texted my older son, Mitch, and my husband, Andy. That accountability – saying it out loud – helped me take the first real step. I needed support and while I wasn’t joining a formal program like AA, I wasn’t doing it totally alone either.
I began immersing myself in everything I could find. I read books and lots of them. Women’s sobriety stories, in particular, helped immensely. Claire Pooley’s The Sober Diaries stood out. She made sobriety feel doable, even light-hearted at times. She helped me see that giving up alcohol doesn’t mean losing joy. It doesn’t have to be sombre just because it’s sober.
More books that might help:
Going Under by Seana Smith
The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober by Catherine Gray
This Naked Mind by Annie Grace
I also found podcasts, searching for terms like ‘grey area drinking,’ ‘sober curious,’ and ‘midlife women.’ Listening to others share their stories reminded me I wasn’t alone. That mattered more than I expected.
Next I found a coach and a group, nothing formal, but the kind of support that let me know someone had my back. But ultimately, I did the hard work myself. I had to.
I didn’t quit cold turkey. I tapered slowly over two weeks, gradually cutting back. That helped avoid the urge to binge or rebel. What really helped was replacing the habit. At 5 pm, I still had ‘a drink’ but now it was alcohol-free. Same glass, same ritual, different content. For me, that was empowering, not triggering.
The ripple effect
I quit on January 12th, 2023. I didn’t socialise much, in fact I became a bit of a hermit, but I was okay with that. I needed that time to focus on myself and get stronger, like building muscle. It was quiet, private and necessary.
That first morning waking up without alcohol in my system, I felt so proud. One night. One win. And from there, I took it day by day.
My sleep didn’t improve right away, it took six weeks before I had really good, restful sleep. But my menopause symptoms – the hot flushes, the 3 am anxiety, those began to ease almost immediately.
My body changed too. A little weight loss, but more importantly, the puffiness left. My face looked less bloated. My mood evened out. The brain fog started to lift. I felt clearer, more present, less anxious.
Then came the emotional clarity. And it wasn’t necessarily a good thing at first.
Without alcohol numbing me, I unfortunately realised I didn’t like myself very much. That was a hard truth to face. But it also marked the beginning of something new. A deep, transformative journey. I began getting to know myself again, who I really was underneath the coping mechanisms. I learned to sit with my emotions instead of drowning them and started learning to like myself again – to trust myself.
An expanded life
As I healed, I began to see how many midlife women were in the same boat – functioning yet quietly struggling. Grey area drinking is rising among women navigating motherhood, menopause, career changes, emotional stress, ageing parents or relationship breakdowns.
I chose to study coaching and positive psychology and I’m currently training as an NLP practitioner to support women like me – not broken, just stuck. I want to help lift the shame and guilt and show women they’re not alone.
Sobriety didn’t shrink my life; it expanded it. I gained energy, self-respect, deeper relationships, and a clear mind. I now know that you don’t have to wait for things to get worse to want better. You don’t need to label yourself. If alcohol is taking more than it’s giving, that’s reason enough. I traded wine for wisdom and the freedom and joy I’ve found are too good not to share.
Learning who I really am and learning to love that person has been a huge journey for me. It also meant learning how to deal with my emotions, not numb them. As a little girl, I was often told, “Don’t cry about that,” or “Stop carrying on,” or “Don’t be angry.”
No one taught me how to manage my feelings or that it was okay to have them. Like many women, I grew up believing emotions were a sign of weakness, something to hide. So, I learned to sit with the discomfort or numb it with drinking.
Over time, I’ve learned that it’s okay to feel those emotions and, more importantly, to kindly talk myself through them. That shift has opened up a whole new world for me. I’ve made a complete career change. My relationships are better, I have more money in the bank. I’m more productive and I’m healthier than ever. Overall it’s created so much freedom and a much bigger, fuller life.
There was definitely a sense of grieving the loss of that old version of myself. But now, I feel much more connected to my values and my true self.
When I was drinking, there was a disconnect. Sometimes I felt like a bit of a fraud because everyone saw me as this successful businesswoman, but inside, I didn’t feel authentic. Now, I don’t really feel the need to drink anymore.
Holding space for other women
I trained as a life coach from mid-2023 to mid-2024 and launched my business soon after. Alongside formal study, I immersed myself in learning about why we get stuck and how we heal, but it was my own lived experience that taught me the most.
I coach women who want to cut back, cut out, or take a break from drinking. I don’t preach total abstinence because every journey is unique. Over time, I’ve noticed a pattern: smart, capable women quietly losing touch with themselves, reaching for wine not to self-destruct, but to cope. I understand it, because I’d been there too. That’s why I started coaching: to walk beside these women and help lift the shame from something so common.
I want women to know: there is nothing wrong with you. We are juggling so much - work, relationships, ageing parents, our own changing bodies. Reaching for something to soothe ourselves makes sense. But when it becomes a daily crutch, a cycle of coping, guilt, and fatigue, it helps to ask a simple question: Why am I drinking?
That question cracked something open for me. And it’s one I now gently offer others. Not in judgment, but with curiosity. You don’t need to label yourself or make announcements, just explore. Try a day without it, then another and see how it feels. If something stirs in your gut, trust it. You’re not alone and you don’t have to do it alone.
A better version of me
What surprised me most about life without alcohol was the clarity, peace and joy I’d been unknowingly numbing. I thought wine helped me enjoy life. But without it, I found a version of myself I hadn’t seen in years. I felt more aligned. More me.
And that ripple extended to my family. My husband, once a regular drinker, stopped too not because I asked him to, but because he noticed the changes in me. Quietly, he began saying “no” more often, until one day, it had been over a year. Our sons aren’t heavy drinkers either, their generation seems more mindful.
The biggest transformation has been in my connection with my husband. We walk together now. Read together. Travel differently. Conversations are deeper, rituals richer. It’s no longer about numbing; it’s about presence. My friendships have changed too, I value depth, over clinking glasses and my relationships with my sons.
Will I drink again? Who knows. I initially planned to stop for six months, but when I reached that point, I felt too good to go back. I don’t say “never” to avoid pressure - but for now, I’m happy just as I am.
To any woman quietly wondering if her drinking is still serving her, I say this: you are not broken. You are not alone. Just get sober-curious and take it one step at a time.
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Feature image: Lisa Atkinson Photography
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