‘My first drink was during the girls’ bath time’: Made in Chelsea star Millie Mackintosh reveals darkest days of alcoholism

If I don’t stop drinking, our marriage will be over,” Hugo told me.

It was the morning after his best friend’s wedding. It was a great, glamorous occasion, and I ruined it for him.

Many weddings are vague. I know I kept losing my phone.

I know I got very emotional and cried and got angry, but this was a new thing that started after I became a mom.

Embarrassingly, I picked a fight with Hugo and tried to hit him. I was that person at the wedding that everyone was staring at and thinking, “Oh God, please take me away from them!”

I could see it on their faces. That social pariah was me, a terrible drunk.

When Hugo Taylor and I got married in 2018, I was in the midst of a battle with alcohol.

The party girl is still best known for her appearances on reality TV shows. Made in Chelseawhere I first met Hugo, I still couldn’t control the drinking that characterized my teens and twenties.

A year later, when I found out I was pregnant, I found my emotions swinging between elation and panic.

But as I was forced to treat my body with more respect, I began to really enjoy my sober company for a change.

For years, I dealt with my anxiety by self-medicating with booze and the prescribed sedative Xanax. It went away while I was pregnant but sadly came back with a roar after Sienna’s birth.

Our first trip abroad as a new family was in the summer of 2020.

I wanted to have a few glasses of wine and brought some expressed breast milk with me, but I knew Sienna would wake up in the middle of the night to feed, so I had the clear intention of not getting drunk.

But after a few margaritas, the wheels fell off and we didn’t have much to say about the rest of the night. Luckily, Hugo was modest about his alcohol intake and was happy to put me to bed and take care of Sienna at night.

At 4am I woke up in severe pain. Partly because I was hungover, but also because I didn’t express milk before passing out in bed, my breasts were swollen and tight. Normally, just hearing the rumbling of the baby next to me would fill me with love, but at that moment, all I felt was hopeless shame and self-loathing.

Shortly thereafter (quite literally), I got pregnant again and by November 2021, Aurelia arrived, making us two children under the age of two.

Now, instead of going out to parties, I’ve fully embraced the British culture of delicious mum’s wine time.

I often saw moms taking yoga classes, drinking green juice, and posting on Instagram at 5pm how they earned their vodka tonic that night. It’s like if you don’t need a drink before the sun goes down, you’re not trying hard enough as a mother.

Don’t you think women in their 20s are wild? You’ve never been to a new mom’s night out where everyone gushes about their husbands while drinking wine, ordering extra cocktails, and posting pictures of themselves sending #bestlives.

I was always excited to have my first drink during the girls’ bath time and then drop them off at night for another drink. That was my reward. In some ways, becoming a mother made my drinking even worse because I was suddenly able to justify it. Society said I earned it.

I was already struggling, but the strength of motherhood added fuel to the fire. It felt like it was being advertised directly to me, as if drinking was something I needed to cope with motherhood.

I remember one particularly bad night. One time Sienna was awake with colic and I was still drinking. I sat on the floor crying because my mother wouldn’t take the bottle. My husband didn’t know which of us he should help more and had to take over.

I’m bad at communicating, especially with Hugo, and being drunk made it a million times worse. I became irritated and mean and boiled over with anger directed at him. The morning after such a troublesome night, he was so upset that I had hurt his feelings, but I was either too hungover to listen or was in a flurry mode and it was our fault. It was humiliating for both of us.

Hugo’s ultimatum after his friend’s wedding really scared me, but I think that while you may want to quit for the sake of the person you love, you really want to quit for yourself, not anyone else.

A much-needed wake-up call came a few days later. We were invited to spend a weekend with friends on a boat in the Mediterranean.

Everything about sailing on the crystal clear sea was beautiful. We were basically in paradise until one morning I woke up at 5am with a sinking feeling of dread. After a few minutes, a wave of panic washed over me. My throat was really tight and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

Terrified, I shook Hugo awake and collapsed to the floor. I couldn’t get any air in and everything started turning black. I felt a cold fear that I would never see my two baby girls again. I really, really believed I was going to die.

Sedated, I waited in horror for relief from the panic attack’s grip. It was the most intense event I’ve ever experienced and I was really upset, but I still had a clear understanding of why it happened. I had a bad hangover after many nights of drinking.

In the midst of all this chaos, I said out loud for the first time, “I need to stop drinking.”

It was a public declaration. After the words left my mouth, I knew I had to stand by them. This is a promise to myself, Hugo, and our daughters. Thanks to all of us. I was in a self-induced downward spiral and needed to stop it immediately.

That was August 25, 2022, and I have not had an alcoholic beverage since then.

At first, it was difficult for me to feel that it was so raw and real. During my first few months of sobriety, I felt obligated to continue to be the person people had known for years. To put on a show. But as you get older and wiser, you find it harder and harder to be inauthentic like that.

It wasn’t always sparkling rainbows and roses. I never thought I would dance again. I never thought I would be able to go to a party again and have fun. Without my Dutch glass of courage, I would never have been able to figure out how to socialize or survive stressful social situations.

I knew I was going to need help. A few years ago, on one of the many occasions I tried to make a change, an acquaintance suggested I talk to a sober coach who could help me understand my relationship with alcohol. Ta.

I booked him for some sessions and his honesty really scared me. He made it clear that if I continued to mix prescription drugs and alcohol, he would completely destroy me. So when I wanted to follow through with the changes, I went back.

My sober coach said something helpful to me in one of our early sessions. “You made a decision to put yourself first.”

Rather than wallowing in that “wine time” joke, I soaked in a down-to-earth, curious, positive mood. I looked for interviews with inspiring people, including actors, writers, and musicians who are living without alcohol.

During the first six months of sobriety, I felt really good and slept well. I can now decide whether going to a particular event or place is an act of self-care or an act of self-sabotage. And I learned to say no.

If I’m going to something, I make plans. To hold yourself accountable, arrive early, leave early, and tell people you trust that you won’t drink.

It was a priceless feeling to wake up in the morning and know that I hadn’t done anything stupid, I hadn’t created any drama, I hadn’t fought with my husband. But gradually the anxiety started to return.

I was flustered for a while because I wasn’t used to feeling uncomfortable and intense emotions. My brain was wired to want the easy way out, to want quick fixes, and I wasn’t drinking, I wasn’t taking Xanax, so I had no way to cope. Years of questionable choices had left me vulnerable.

I fell into a really dark place. I had stopped drinking alcohol, but my old problems were becoming more apparent. I experienced a moment of burnout, or what I would describe as a nervous breakdown. I couldn’t stop crying, I had trouble eating and sleeping, I was scared of everything, and I had to take time off from work. I was having panic attacks every few days. Every day I thought I was going to die. Living an alcohol-free life highlighted the inescapable work I had to do on myself.

I saw a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, high functioning depression, and PTSD. (I was later diagnosed with ADHD as well.) He put me on antidepressants. And after careful consideration, I decided it was the right thing for me. These diagnoses helped me understand myself and were critical to my healing journey.

Also, in therapy, I realized that much of my anxiety came from my younger self wanting to be loved. I have never truly loved or valued myself. The girl who was bullied at boarding school, the girl who was sexually assaulted at age 14, the girl who was torn apart by the press—that part of me is still there, begging to be heard and comforted. I am. I have become more comfortable sitting with my emotions without someone defining or controlling me. I got my life back.

I am in a great place in my marriage and feel like myself for the first time since I was a teenager. Many people have commented that they have seen visible improvements in their skin, hair, and eyes since quitting drinking. People say I look younger, and the swelling around my stomach from drinking is gone.

But what is the greatest gift of all? Closeness with my daughters. When it comes to my daughters, I am living with a new spirit. I never wanted to be that angry, screaming parent, and I never wanted my kids to remember me and grow up, but the hangover made me realize that I was that parent. I often put it away. Living without alcohol has allowed me to become the woman I want to be.

Being sober has given me the gift of freedom I never knew I needed. Freedom to be myself, freedom to be the mother I want to be, freedom to be the mother my daughters deserve, freedom to be introverted, freedom to be healthy, freedom to not hide any part of myself with built confidence.

I’m not a bad drunk anymore. I’m a good mother and a good person. Along with some stories.

Adapted from bad drunk By Millie Mackintosh, to be published on January 15th (Piatkus, £18.99). To pre-order for £17.09 until February 2nd, visit mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937. Free UK delivery on orders over £25.

What to expect from your first month of sobriety

From Mail on Sunday columnist and general practitioner Dr Ellie Cannon

The first week without alcohol can be difficult due to hangovers and withdrawal symptoms.

This means that for the first few days you may feel quite light-headed, tired, have a headache, and even feel a little depressed. It is necessary to normalize blood sugar levels and flush out acetaldehyde, which the body produces when removing alcohol.

The good news is that your blood sugar levels should improve after 24 hours. For most people, withdrawal symptoms disappear after 3 to 4 days, but this is the first small recovery. Drinking plenty of water will help you feel refreshed and hydrated.

As your sleep improves, you should feel less tired. Alcohol disrupts very deep sleep, but this may normalize within the first week and help you feel more rested.

We often underestimate the effects of alcohol on our stomachs. Alcohol is an irritant and affects the lining of the stomach, causing stomach acid, heartburn, nausea, pain, and even ulcers.

Abstaining from alcohol for just a week or two may calm your stomach and you may experience fewer stomach problems. You’ll experience less indigestion and enjoy your meals more.

After a month of quitting drinking, you’ll notice a big difference in how you feel. Mentally, you need to think more clearly. Increased sense of well-being and reduced agitation. Physically, your energy levels will improve, your nausea and vomiting will completely disappear, and you may even notice weight loss. Only positive things can come from this.