I See You

I see you.

You who doesn’t have a “drink problem.”

You’re not the stereotype.
You’re not drinking every day.
You’re not losing jobs or relationships.
You’re a middle-lane drinker.
Social. Normal. Fine.

So there’s no reason to look too closely?

Except.

Except you had two social events this weekend and now you are dreading Monday .
Your chest feels tight.
Your mind won’t settle.
You’re replaying conversations and worrying about work — even though nothing bad actually happened.

I see you.

Except for you who drank a little to much wine over the weekend to avoid thinking about the long to-do list waiting for you.
You needed to rest.
You needed to escape.
But now that list feels harder, longer, more overwhelming than it did on Friday.

I see you.

Except for you who would never break a rule — yet drove home from a girls’ night away the next afternoon with a small knot of fear in your stomach, hoping enough time had passed.
Telling yourself it was probably fine. You couldn't still be over the limit, or could you?

I see you.

Except for you who refused the lift you’d planned, or skipped the last bus or train, because the night felt too good to be over.
So you paid for a ridiculously expensive taxi home — money meant for bills, food, or something important — and laughed it off the next day.

I see you.

Except for you who spent a small fortune on an expensive facial and carefully chosen home-care routine on Friday…
But didn’t take your makeup off after Saturday night cocktails.
Waking up irritated, dry, disappointed with black rings of mascara under your eyes — and quietly annoyed at yourself.

I see you.

Except for you who has been cleaning up your diet.
Less sugar.
Less processed food.
More intention.

Then the weekend came.
When bottles of cheap wine were followed by a McDonald’s.
And now you’re beating yourself up, wondering why you can’t “just be consistent.”

I see you.

Except for you whose turn it is to get up with the kids.
Begrudgingly making breakfast while your other half gets to lie in.
Pushing through the exhaustion.
Swallowing the resentment.

I see you.

Except for you who is single, out with married friends.
They go home to support, company, shared responsibility.
You go home alone — facing the hangover by yourself. Guilty that you cannot be more today for the kids.

I see you.
I was you.

None of these moments look dramatic.
They’re easy to minimise.
Easy to joke about.
Easy to dismiss as “just one of those weekends.”

But they are consequences.
Quiet ones.
Internal ones.
The kind that don’t make headlines but slowly chip away at your peace, energy, self-trust, and clarity.

And noticing this doesn’t mean you have a drinking problem.
It means you’re paying attention.

You don’t have to hit a bottom to ask better questions.
You don’t have to consider quitting to explore something honestly.
You don’t have to label yourself anything at all.

This isn’t about shame.
It’s about honesty.
And choice.

I see you.
And you’re allowed to look closer at yourself too.