I didn’t pick up a drink just to have fun. I picked it up to stop feeling everything I couldn’t make sense of. Alcohol became the balm, the courage, the mask. It gave me a false sense of power when, deep down, I felt powerless. For years, it helped
me avoid the pain I carried. The pain of feeling different, the confusion of being adopted, the anger I didn’t know how to name, and the shame that silently haunted me.
By the time I was 13, alcohol had already begun playing a role in shaping my behaviour and how I coped with the world. It became part of a wider pattern. Destructive choices, emotional shutdown, and masking my real self. That pattern brought me down a long, dark road that included years of prison, broken relationships, and deep inner chaos.
But alcohol wasn’t the problem on its own. It was the companion I turned to when there were no other answers, no one I felt I could truly talk to, and no early intervention that helped me understand what I was going through.
What brought me into recovery was a moment of truth. One of those deep, internal moments where I realised I was either going to keep destroying myself or finally try something different. I didn’t want to die, but I also didn’t want to keep living the way I was.
Recovery, for me, wasn’t about one moment of clarity. It was about many moments, stitched together by support, connection, and choosing to be seen. I entered a formal alcohol treatment programme which then set me on my new
journey of rediscovering my authentic self. To get there I had to navigate through pain, lived experience, and eventually, through purpose. I became a Recovery Coach, trained in multiple frameworks, and began walking with others through their healing.
Today, I work with individuals, families, schools, professionals, and organisations. Not as an expert with all the answers, but as someone who has lived it. I’ve witnessed the destruction alcohol can cause. Not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually, and generationally. And I’ve seen the incredible things that can happen when recovery is supported. When the person behind the behaviour is finally heard.
What helps me stay in recovery?
• Honesty and vulnerability: Being honest with myself and others about my pain, my thoughts, and my hopes. I don’t pretend to be “fixed”. I am growing.
• Connection: I built a community, UR Pace Recovery Hub, because I saw how lonely recovery can be. Connection is the antidote to shame.
• Service: I’ve found meaning by helping others, by walking beside them, by sharing the tools that helped me turn my life around.
• Creativity and expression: Podcasting, coaching, and storytelling help me give voice to things I used to bottle up. I now use my voice instead of drowning it.
What I believe needs to change in Ireland:
1. Timely Access to Trauma-Informed Support
I wasn’t offered trauma-informed care when I needed it most. The focus was on punishment, not understanding. Had someone asked me why I was drinking, what I was running from, instead of what I’d done, my path might have looked very different.
2. Addressing Alcohol Marketing and Cultural Normalisation
Alcohol is everywhere in Irish culture. It’s how we celebrate, mourn, relax, and connect. I grew up thinking it was just part of being a man, that drinking hard was normal. We need to create new narratives, especially for young people.
3. Workplace Support and Second Chances
Even in recovery, I’ve faced stigma when disclosing my past. We need to create compassionate hiring practices that allow people in recovery to rebuild with dignity, not fear.
4. Peer-Led Models and Lived Experience Voices
We need to fund and legitimise the voices of those who’ve walked through this. I wasn’t reached by systems. I was reached by people who’d been there. Peer support saved my life.
5. Spaces for Emotional and Identity Healing
So many of us used alcohol not just to party, but to forget. To numb the pain of identity confusion, adoption trauma, emotional neglect, and abuse. Healing needs to include these pieces of the puzzle. We need emotional literacy taught in schools, in prisons, in community centres, not just in therapy rooms.
Recovery isn’t a straight line. It’s messy. But it’s also beautiful. Today, I’m engaged, I’m present in my own life, I help others find their voice, and I live with purpose. I believe that with the right support, with less shame and more understanding, we can help thousands more not just stop drinking, but start truly living.
Thank you for holding space for voices like mine.
With heart,
Peter Townsend