I turned 40 recently, and with that came the typical “what have I done with my life?” jolt of anxiety. I did the same when I turned 30, and I will most likely do the same when I turn 50.

Throughout my 20s, I held onto a cherished dream that I would one day travel the world, but because I was so wrapped up in my own hedonism, the days and years became a blur of inane late-night conversations and questionable decisions.

At the age of 32, I woke up one morning and decided to give up alcohol forever. This decision did not leave me with a ton of work opportunities or a cache of saved money, but it did bring me closer to my dream.

In 2019, just before the pandemic, I travelled to Cape Town, Tanzania, and Ireland. I had travelled out of the country before, but never as a sober person. This time around, there would be no early morning airport drinks, or justifying 8am whiskies on a plane, because you know, time zones.

In Zanzibar, mocktails became my best friend. I was the first up every morning and last to bed at night. I squeezed every moment out of that experience. It was glorious to experience a holiday that didn’t include a debilitating hangover.

That same year, I visited friends in Dublin. My itinerary was filled with every bookish thing I could shove into a budget holiday.

In two weeks, I saw every free exhibit, rode on buses, and visited as many museums, universities, and libraries as possible on South African rands. Not an ounce of Guinness passed my lips.

I’m mentioning the mocktails and lack of Guinness because, in so many ways, drinking was not only considered an activity in my life, but in society, as a general rule. Instead of being a part of the fun, drinking became The Fun.

By 2019, I had already been sober for a few years, and it was getting easier to navigate this new life. From the day I quit alcohol, I knew I could never be the person who sat at a cafe in Paris and had one glass of wine. I’d be the one who had the whole bottle.

Where am I going with this? Well, in talking about my sobriety, I have revealed a personal obstacle I was able to overcome, even though many in recovery will confirm that you never truly stop recovering.

Surely, with that out of the way, travelling the world was not a big deal? In fact, having travelled to a few countries before and after my sobriety, surely this is a wish fulfilled?

Well, yes, and no. I suppose another reason for sharing my story of quitting alcohol is to expose how often we don’t realise how capable we are, until we do.

The idea of packing my bags again and boarding a plane, after years of lockdown and living on a budget, feels overwhelming. It feels greater than me, out of reach, and indulgent, in a world that is burning.

Not drinking again was also something I couldn’t imagine. With all that said, I have now given myself permission to dream.

To imagine sitting in a cafe in Paris, with a strong coffee. Or floating in a hot air balloon in Turkey, or strolling the streets of Venice.

If I can envision myself eating pizza in Naples, thumbing through vintage paperbacks in a bookstore in Oxford, or visiting castles in Scotland, then I guess there’s no harm in those dreams either.

There are so many choices society expects us to regret, or try to forget. In my case, I decided to accept my bad relationship with alcohol, the one with all the red flags.

We can forgive ourselves for decisions made in the past. We can look forward to fulfilling a wish or two, without the guilt, or that pesky little voice that keeps whispering in our ear that we don’t deserve it. Because most of the time, we do.