Back on the Wagon. Gladly.

A careful man I want to be, a little fellow follows me.

I wrote those words in January when I was three weeks sober.

At the time, I said I wanted 2026 to be a clear year. A year where I stayed off alcohol, aside from our wedding and honeymoon.

It’s now May, and that’s exactly how it has played out.

I stayed sober for the first few months of the year. Then in April, Morgan and I got married. We went to Koh Samui for our honeymoon. I turned 40 that same week. I had a few drinks. I toasted my wife. I enjoyed the moment.

And then I came home.

And honestly, I was so glad to get back on the path.

Not in a dramatic way. Not in a “never again” way. Just in a very clear, very grounded way.

Everything in my life is better without alcohol.

My sleep is better. My mood is better. My training is better. My patience is better. My presence is better. My self-respect is better.

I’m 40 years old and I’m in the best shape of my life.

The morning of our wedding, the groomsmen and I got up and went for a run.

Twelve months ago, that would have been unheard of. I would have had a few too many drinks the night before, slept badly, woken up dusty, and told myself it didn’t matter.

But it does matter.

Those small decisions stack up. The quiet ones. The ones nobody sees. The ones that either move you closer to the man you say you want to be, or further away from him.

That’s what this year has made really obvious to me.

I don’t need alcohol to have a good life.

In fact, it gets in the way of the life I’m trying to build.

I’m not talking about rock bottom. I’m not talking about chaos. I’m not talking about losing everything.

I’m talking about that more common, more socially acceptable version of it.

Locking in all week. Working hard. Training hard. Being a good dad, partner, leader, provider. Having all the external pieces in place.

And then using the weekend to numb yourself a little.

Not enough that anyone is worried.

Just enough that you know.

You know you’re not accessing your full potential. You know you’re not as present as you could be. You know you’re leaving something on the table. You know your family is getting a slightly dulled version of you. You know Monday keeps coming with a sinking sense that you could be better than this.

That was me for a long time.

Functioning. Achieving. Doing good work. Building a good life.

But not fully aligned.

And once you see that clearly, it becomes hard to unsee.

That’s also why I’m relaunching the recovery coaching side of my behaviour change consultancy.

I’m especially interested in working with high-performing men who look like they have it together from the outside, but know alcohol is quietly capping their ceiling.

Men who don’t necessarily identify with needing “treatment”. Men who aren't falling apart. Men who are doing well, but know they could be doing better.

Better for themselves. Better for their partners. Better for their kids. Better for the life they’ve worked hard to build.

This is not about shame. It’s not about labels. It’s not about telling people they have a problem.

It’s about alignment.

It’s about asking a better question:

What would your life look like if you stopped giving drugs and alcohol the job of taking the edge off?

Because for me, the answer has been pretty clear.

I’m better without it.

And the little fellow watching me deserves the clearest version of his dad I can give him.

So I’m back on the wagon.

Gladly.

And if that sounds familiar, reach out.