When I wrote about my sobriety 18 months ago, I was convinced I'd never go back to drinking. I was 12 months sober and I'd never felt better. Not one drop of alcohol had passed my lips since January 8, 2024.A pledge I made to myself: I won't drink again until I feel like I want to. Only that urge hadn't materialised. I was a year into my sobriety journey and there was no looking back (or so I thought).As a party girl turned healthy, sober single mother on a mission, it was hard for people to believe that I hadn't touched a drop of booze. Looking back, I can understand why. It didn't bother me too much when people didn't believe me. I knew the truth and that's all that mattered.Every element of my life improved when I stopped drinking: my work, my health, my appearance, my relationships - specifically with my friends and son. I've always had a great relationship with both, but there was a lot of mental fog, anxiety and fatigue after big nights or weekends away when my patience was more than a little thin. I was more snappy for sure. It never stopped me showing up, but it stilted my joy in some of those moments due to throbbing headaches, rising nausea, irritability and tiredness.In my sobriety, this didn't happen - I was more alert, awake, clear and patient. And the people around me noticed.When I turned 40 in December 2024, I was the fittest I'd ever been. With the money I'd saved from having no alcohol for 12 months, I paid for my parents to fly over to Sydney from the UK to celebrate the milestone birthday with me. I celebrated surrounded by my loved ones on a yacht in Sydney Harbour - completely sober - and I can honestly say it was the best night of my life. After years of heavy drinking, Lisa Hollinshead decided to go sober. For 18 months, she didn't look back Lisa says she had 'mental fog, anxiety and fatigue' when she was drinking, and had a better relationship with her son after she quitSo it might seem strange when I admit that in 2025, just six months after that night in December, I decided that I wanted to have a drink. And perhaps the most shocking part is, it was planned - it wasn't an impulse decision. I consciously decided to drink again after 18 months of sobriety that had changed my life for the better in almost every way.My hometown best friends have been by my side since we were kids - they're the constants in my life. Even after moving halfway around the world in 2009, we've celebrated every milestone together. We rang in our 21st birthdays in Ibiza, our 30ths in Amsterdam, and planned our 40ths on Italy's Amalfi Coast. I was set to meet them in Manchester and fly out with the gang at the end of May 2025.I decided I didn't want my all-or-nothing attitude to drinking to become a self-made cage. I'm a big believer in balance, and wanted to show myself I could enjoy a drink or two on special occasions - without turning it into a big deal. The catch? I'd been outspoken about my sobriety and its benefits (which I still stand by, by the way), so I worried about being seen as a fraud or hypocrite.I also want to note that I didn't choose sobriety because of problems with alcohol. It was simply a decision I made after realising I was no longer happy with my drinking habits. I was a big binge drinker and, when I drank, I didn't have an 'off switch'. I didn't drink often - but when I did, I couldn't stop.I wanted to prove to myself that I have a healthy relationship with booze - one or two drinks doesn't define me. So I decided to savour a limoncello spritz in Sorrento. My friends assured me there was zero pressure, and they supported whatever I chose. It was entirely my decision and I felt at peace with it. No one warns you how quickly sobriety can become part of your identity - and for me, it absolutely didThe first drink wasn't the scary part. I enjoyed it, and the old familiar feeling of weightless legs and giggles came back after just one. I felt the buzz I hadn't felt in over 18 months. 'I'm a lightweight,' I thought. 'I'll be a cheap date!' I had two drinks with my girlfriends that night as we laughed about the bliss of growing up before social media and reminisced over old memories.It was a perfect evening.Yet at the end of the night as I lay in my bed, slightly light-headed and happy, I found myself thinking: 'What if this means I've failed?'Eighteen months earlier, I had made the decision to stop drinking.Not because I'd hit rock bottom. Not because anyone had staged an intervention. Not because I woke up in a hedge in Kings Cross wearing someone else's shoes.Nothing dramatic triggered it - I just wanted a fresh start. I realised this was my last year in my 30s and I'd never be on the 'right' side of 40 again. So, I promised myself I'd get into the best physical and mental shape of my life.The truth is, I liked myself more without alcohol. Once I set my mind to something, I move mountains to make it happen. The truth is, I liked myself more without alcohol. Once I set my mind to something, I move mountains to make it happen In sobriety, I slept better, looked better, had more energy, was more productive, became a more patient mother, and showed up stronger in my business, friendships and relationships.When people ask why I stopped drinking, they are often disappointed by the answer. They want a dramatic story, a rock bottom, a catalyst.The truth is far more boring: I realised life felt easier without it.What started as a month became six months. Six became 12. Twelve became 18.Somewhere along the way, I became 'the sober one'. And I'm not going to shy away from the fact that I was a champion for that and shouted about the benefits.And that's where things got interesting. No one warns you how quickly sobriety can become part of your identity - and for me, it absolutely did. Working in media, it wove itself into the fabric of who I was.To me, I wasn't just someone who didn't drink - I was someone who'd conquered it, someone who'd finally figured things out.The longer I stayed sober, the more pressure I felt to keep up that identity. The strange thing was that nothing happened. There was no downward spiral. No three-day hangover. No sudden return to my old habits. I had a drink in the moment, enjoyed it and carried on with my holidayThen came my Europe trip: celebrating my 40th in Italy, Spain with my mum, and later a cruise around the Greek Islands - suddenly, all my dreams were coming true.A limoncello here. An Aperol spritz there. A slimline gin and tonic with dinner.The strange thing was that nothing happened. There was no downward spiral. No three-day hangover. No sudden return to my old habits.I had a drink in the moment, enjoyed it, and carried on with my holiday.Yet internally, I felt like I was hiding a dark secret, and it was eating me up. I'd spent so long viewing sobriety as success and drinking as failure that I couldn't work out where moderation fitted into the equation.I had created a cage for myself and locked the door from the inside. The irony wasn't lost on me.The very thing that had given me freedom was now making me feel trapped. It wasn't long before I realised that the shame wasn't coming from the alcohol; it was really coming from the story I was telling myself about what the alcohol meant.For years, I've approached life with an all-or-nothing mentality (yes it's exhausting!) I'm either on the diet or off the diet. Smashing my goals or failing completely. Hyper-focused or dissociating on the sofa.Drinking or sober. Successful or unsuccessful. Good or bad.But life doesn't actually work like that. Most of life happens in the messy middle - it does for me anyway. The older I get, the more I realise that maturity isn't about perfection. There's a space in the middle, and more and more, for me it's about nuance. I'd take a wild guess that for many reading this, that's also true of them.I think it's important to take a step back and understand that two things can be true at once. I can believe sobriety suits me best and still enjoy a drink or two on holiday. I can acknowledge that alcohol adds very little value to my life while also not viewing every sip as a moral failure.I can absolutely love who I am without alcohol and still not feel imprisoned by a label. For me, that was a massive revelation and one I felt compelled to share.Today, my relationship with alcohol looks different. I still take long breaks from drinking.In fact, I recently completed another 40 alcohol-free days without giving it much thought, and threw a 72-hour water-only fast in for good measure (that's my old 'all-or-nothing' mentality).I want to make it clear that I still genuinely believe I'm happier, healthier and more grounded when alcohol isn't part of my life.If you offered me a magic wand and asked whether I'd choose to never drink again, I'd probably take it.But what has changed is this: I no longer believe that one drink erases years of growth and I don't buy into the idea that making a different choice means I've somehow failed.For me, life doesn't have to be lived in black and white. There can be grey areas and that's okay.For ages, I thought my real struggle was alcohol, but I've quietly realised it's actually self-compassion. Whenever someone asks if I'm still not drinking, I get that gut-tightening rush of shame. But the truth is, I'm more worried about their reaction than what's real for me - because I'm actually comfortable with moderation and balance.I've taken the steps to feel comfortable in the space where I can extend myself the same grace I'd offer anyone else. Because what if the goal isn't perfection?For me, two and a half years since choosing to go alcohol-free - and a year since deciding it's fine to have a drink or two if I want - the real goal is simply being self-aware enough to make choices that truly fit who I am, and where I am at the time.Forgiving ourselves when life doesn't follow the plan is part of healing. It means not locking ourselves in a cage, but trusting we can step outside our own boundaries and be okay with it.