'At 40, I thought I was a 'functioning' drinker. Then a comment from an air hostess on a flight shocked me.'

I would describe my childhood as happy. I grew up in Fitzroy in Melbourne in a large family — I was one of eight children. Our family was really social and welcoming. The door was always open and the house was always lively. Seven siblings meant life was often chaotic, but I look back on that time with fond memories.

I would describe my mum as the anchor of our family, my dad worked hard and had a complicated relationship with alcohol. It was always there. Dad was what you would call a functioning alcoholic, but he played right on the edge of how you would define "functioning". We were close, in fact, I clearly remember when he and Mum would fight growing up, I was always the one to come to his defence. We were similar and I saw that from a very young age.

Dad's drinking was a common thread in my memories. He did a couple of stints in rehab when things got really out of hand, but he managed to keep one foot in life, just enough that things didn't totally unravel.

As I have got older, I have realised that we shared so much in common.

Image: Supplied.

Looking back now, my role in the family saw me always feel the need to make everyone happy. I was born sixth out of eight kids, and I assumed the role of ensuring everyone felt good. I think this meant that maybe I wasn't a priority, that I was overlooked, "don't worry about Nicole, she's happy go-lucky". Turns out I wasn't.

I grew up, met my husband and left home, and was on a trajectory for a 'typical' Aussie life. But after I had my first child I suffered terribly with post-natal depression. The demands of motherhood weighed heavily on me and my husband often travelled for work which left me alone in the house with two young children.

It wasn't long after I had my daughter that I lost a brother to suicide. That kind of trauma has an indescribable impact on those left behind. He was only 32 and I felt devastated that he was alone in such despair that he felt that was the only option. This, coupled with the challenge of being a child of an alcoholic, in hindsight, was the catalyst for a path that changed the very course of my life.

Don't get me wrong, I loved being a mother — but it can be exhausting and when you have mental health challenges, the little things can seem really overwhelming.

Alcohol became a relief mechanism for me. 'You made it through the day, good on you, have a drink', 'You got the kids to sleep, time to unwind, have a drink', 'Today was stressful, you deserve a drink to unwind', the excuses would go on and on.

Watch: Your Body After 1 Year Without Alcohol. Post continues after video.

My relationship with my husband was also linked to alcohol. He was a wonderful father and we spent many happy years together but alcohol played such a big role in our relationship. He would walk in the door after a long day or returning from a work trip and quickly hand me a glass, my trophy for making it through the day as a stay-at-home mum. In his world it would ease my stress, in mine it would unravel me.

We were both heavy drinkers, but with my drinking, there was no off switch — I went all in. There was never one glass of wine, there were six and even though I didn't drink every day when I did, I rolled up my sleeves and absolutely annihilated myself.

I always managed to turn up the following day — despite a ranging hangover. I distinctly remember being at my desk at work and positioning the bin under my desk, ready. Or another time on a family zoo trip with a shopping bag in my handbag in preparation for when the inevitable happened. I was 'functioning' so surely all was ok?

Another time, my husband and I were travelling overseas and had used the holiday as an excuse to hit it hard while in Europe. On a flight after a big session, I was so sick with a hangover that mid-flight I couldn't stop throwing up. I locked myself in the bathroom being violently ill. The air hostess actually asked me if it was morning sickness from pregnancy. I just agreed with her, horrified by what I had done to myself yet again.

It was on my 40th birthday that the penny dropped that I had a problem. My birthday is near Christmas which often means people have other commitments and can't celebrate with me. I used that as an excuse to go hard and drank myself into yet another blackout. I remember saying goodbye to my parents the next morning and saying, "I need to stop drinking like this, it has to stop".

The sad thing is my drinking went on for so much longer before I realised I couldn't stop on my own. I tried rehab around the age of 42 but returning to the house with a heavy drinker meant that my sobriety didn't last long. I continued to drink and skirted on the edge of functioning, just like Dad.

My drinking went to another level when my kids moved out of home. I didn't know what my role was anymore, and I found myself in an incredibly lonely place.

My drinking spiraled even more, and some nights I would only stop after consuming two bottles of wine on my own. I was painfully unhappy and my depression was taking over my entire being. My husband would go to bed at night and I would rummage through the house searching for more alcohol.

Just like Dad, I skirted on the edge, keeping my job, but hopelessly depressed. I told myself that I wasn't an alcoholic, after all there were a few nights I didn't drink — surely a serious alcoholic couldn't take the night off? Another excuse.

In the end, I started researching rehab centres with aftercare options for when I got back home - I knew I needed a complete factory reset and found The Cabin, a treatment facility based in Thailand. The admissions person told me I needed treatment, and it was possible that with the right support, I could wake up each morning and not feel a total sense of desperation. I felt a sense a hope for the first time in a long time.

Image: Supplied.

I told my family that I needed to do this, packed my bags and spent four weeks looking at who I was and where my life was. Via the treatment sessions at the Cabin, I realised that I had underlying childhood issues, and I was in a loveless marriage - it was a huge breakthrough for me and one that sent me on an entirely new trajectory.

I knew my marriage was over and at the age of 55, I was fresh out of four weeks of rehab, I was sober and looking at starting over. I can't tell you the sense of relief and freedom in coming to the decision that I didn't need to make people feel happy anymore. It was just me who I needed to make happy.

It has been 15 months since I have had a drink. 15 months since I went all-in and drank myself into oblivion. 15 months since I just functioned. My recovery is something I need to nurture every day, but with the right tools and a lifelong aftercare program, I feel comfortable I can do it.

I want people to know that they can change, there is an answer and there is another way.

Feature Image: Supplied.