From Alcoholism to Advocacy
By Paddy Creedon | Recovery Advocate | June 2025
It’s strange how an ordinary moment can become the turning point of a life. For me, it was a quiet Sunday afternoon in 1977, sitting on the 84 bus going home from Dublin Zoo. My son Keith, not yet two years old, was asleep on my shoulder. I was crying. Not from joy, or pride, or even exhaustion – but from a deep, suffocating despair.
I couldn’t stop drinking.
Despite every promise I’d made to myself, to my wife, to my son—despite all the mornings I swore “never again”- alcohol had me in its grip. That bus ride became the moment I could no longer pretend. I had reached what recovery circles call “rock bottom”. It was to become my mental rock bottom also.
I was raised in the 1950s in a strict, loving home in Tarbert, Co. Kerry. Ours was an alcohol-free house. My parents, Brendan and Eithne Creedon, were hard-working and devoutly Catholic. Alcohol wasn’t just discouraged – it was taboo. Our family legacy of teetotalism went back to the 1870s, woven into our identity.
As a child, I strived to belong and to make my parents proud. I was an altar boy, active in my local GAA club and a decent student. But under the surface, something didn’t feel right. I often felt anxious, unsure, like I was falling short in some invisible way. When I was removed from altar service at the age of ten – without explanation – it wounded me. It planted a seed of self-doubt, a never-enough feeling, that would stay with me for years.
When I moved to Dublin for work in 1969, I felt a new kind of freedom. But that freedom quickly spiralled into a search for escape – from anxiety, mental isolation and an emerging sense of disconnection. At first, gambling filled that void. Then, in 1970, I took my first drink in Wynn’s Hotel on Lower Abbey Street. It was like flicking a switch. I felt confident, alive, uninhibited. For the first time, I believed I was becoming that man I was destined to be.
But that feeling didn’t last.
Over the next few years, social drinking turned to binge drinking, and binge drinking to what we often refer to these times as an alcohol use disorder. Somewhere around 1973 or 1974, I crossed an invisible line; once I had that first drink, I couldn’t stop. I tried to control it. I bargained with myself. I sought help. I contacted the Samaritans. But the truth was brutal: I was powerless over alcohol. My life was in a bit of a mess. I had crossed the line into active alcoholism.
The consequences deepened. My relationships suffered, especially with my family. I was present physically some of the time, but emotionally absent always. I knew I was hurting people I loved. But I didn’t know how to stop or stay stopped.
For all that hurt and pain I caused others – for a long time now – I am truly sorry.
That bus ride home from Dublin Zoo in November 1977 changed everything.
Just days later, on the 10th of November 1977, I walked into a 12-step meeting. I didn’t know what to expect. But I was ready to listen and to go to any lengths to get sober.
Recovery wasn’t a straight line. The journey demanded honesty, humility, deep reflection and hard work on my side. I learned that alcoholism wasn’t a failure of willpower—it was a disease marked by a physical craving and a mental obsession. One drink was never just one drink for me. It was always the beginning of the end.
I had to clean up my side of the street, take responsibility, repair the damage and make amends. It wasn’t easy. But slowly, life returned to normal. Relationships improved. My sense of self came back. The migraines that had plagued me for years began to fade. And more than anything, I began to feel a new hope and clarity around a better life without alcohol.
Then there was Marion Rackard.
Back in 1976, before my recovery even began, I saw her speak on The Late Late Show about her father’s alcoholism and recovery. Her courage and vulnerability stayed with me. Years later, she would encourage me to join the Board of Alcohol Action Ireland, and now we work side by side advocating for policy changes with Alcohol Action Ireland, Marion as a co-founder of Silent Voices and myself as co-founder of Voices of Recovery.
Today, I’ve been sober for over four decades. My life is not without its challenges, but I meet them with clarity, purpose, and strength. I am a very grateful alcoholic in recovery and in particular proud of my contribution as a co-founder of Voices of Recovery, an initiative giving a voice to those impacted by alcohol harm and those in recovery.
Our mission is clear: to push for policy change, trauma-informed services, and public awareness. The full implementation of the Public Health (Alcohol) Act 2018 by 2026 – including proper alcohol labelling – is a crucial step toward a healthier Ireland, free of alcohol harm for all.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: recovery is possible. No matter how far down the path you’ve gone, you can turn your life around. You can rebuild. You can find a new freedom.
To anyone reading this who feels lost, broken, or beyond help: you are not. There is always a way forward. Just remember
“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.” — C.S. Lewis
- Paddy Creedon