I was never surrounded by a lot of alcohol. My parents seldom drank, and when they did, I was rarely offered any. I've probably seen my older sister drink three or four times in my life; my younger sister the same. There was little to no pressure for me to drink when I was young. I can count on one hand the amount of times it was offered, before I left home.

Then I left home to go to the city to attend university. I moved into a student hostel with trepidation; I had never had confidence in my ability to make friends and my nervousness made me extremely shy. Despite this I did make a small group of good friends and a larger group of associates.

And then my closest friend and I started drinking. It immediately brought me back to one of my first drinks as a 14-year-old, and I remember it so clearly. I thought, "I'm going to do this for the rest of my life". It was an instant relaxant and confidence-booster; I felt so much better when my throat was burning from the spirits, or I was drowsy and sleepy from too much beer.

Looking back I never handled it very well, at all. A lot of it is a blur to me now but I can barely remember just having a few drinks with friends, like normal people. I was always pissed, whenever I drank. And I always wanted more. My tolerance increased and so did my intake. I started spending a LOT of money on alcohol.

I got together with a fellow student, Peter, and we both drank a lot. My closest friend and his best mate got together, and the four of us hung out a lot. But I never seemed to be able to handle myself like they did. Peter said to me one day, "What's wrong with you?", and I was so embarrassed that he'd noticed there was something.

That was 1998. At the start of 1999 I met someone who gave me some guidance, and I went to my first meeting. I burst into tears when I first started talking because I knew immediately and completely that my drinking was a problem and that I had no control over it. It was a scary thought.

But I didn't want to stop drinking and I wasn't committed to stopping. After a four-month reprieve in mid-1999 I started again with a vengeance. I used the fact that I was powerless over alcohol as an excuse. I gave into it and drank more, and more often, than I ever had. My flatmates were a combination of concerned and disgusted. I didn't care because I just wanted to be left alone to drink. I didn't care about anything except drinking. I just wanted to drink until I died.

New Years 2000 came and left me battered and bruised. I got so drunk I couldn't remember a thing. I spent it with a close friend who was as self-destructive as I was. We drank champagne and whatever else was going. I spent a couple of hours blacked out in a porta-loo, and woke up freezing cold and wet. I arrived home and showered for a long time and slept for almost two days.

January 16, 2000, was my last drink. At first I just wanted a break and went along to meetings for support. After a while, however, I decided I really did want to be dry. I was detoxed by a member of a local church for ten days. I did nothing but watch the movie Braveheart over and over in a small cushioned room, barely going outside or doing anything.

Things didn't get easier straight away. It's a sign of alcoholic thinking, believing that life will be all sunshine and lollipops if you simply don't take a drink. It's not, but slowly, it got better. I couldn't believe it when I passed a month, but at the same time I was well aware I'd done four months before and got nowhere. I started to really believe that I could not survive if I took another drink. I knew if I started again I wouldn't start my drinking again from scratch, like a first-time drinker - I'd pick up where I left off, be worse than before, and it would not take long before I got extremely sick, and gave up on everything.

So I kept going to meetings. 2000 was an extremely quiet year for me. I barely went out or did anything apart from work and go to university. I slept a lot and began to eat a bit more. I didn't see many people. I passed all my papers at university and before I knew it the year was over and I had a job. I moved flats, passed one year sober, and graduated.

I then ended the relationship I'd been in for two years. The strength my sobriety gave me allowed me to end what had turned out to be an extremely destructive situation. I battled hard with myself (and him) and finally left; it was then the liberty of sobriety really hit me. It was then that I started getting real joy out of my sobriety.

I can still remember what my drinking was like, despite it being almost two years since I've had one. I can still remember the passion I had for it, the challenge it presented me, and how much more I felt I fitted in after I'd had a few. One of the hardest things about not drinking was trying to maintain the level of social contact I'd had while I'd been drinking. I found it extremely difficult to talk to people at parties, to mingle and enjoy the company of others, when I didn't have my tonic.

That part is getting easier. I love people; and meeting them, while tougher, is just as sweet. I've changed in that I prefer one-to-one contact with people now, rather than talking in a group - I just don't have the confidence to entertain like I used to. I'm a bit more serious and cautious now - but not completely. My sobriety is the most precious thing in the world to me and I guard it fiercely. Where I used to drop everything for a drink I would now drop everything to keep myself from having one; it's so hugely important. It's the one thing I have even if I've got everything else wrong. Life is so precious.