Suki Jones 

When I walked out of rehab, I knew I wasn’t cured. You’re never really cured from addiction, especially when you’ve got an addictive personality like mine. First, it was alcohol, then the affair—it all spiralled out of control. Rehab wasn’t the end of the road; it was just the beginning. The real work was waiting for me outside, with my kids—the two people I’d hurt the most.

During rehab, I kept in touch with them through texts and phone calls. But I knew that wasn’t enough. A few messages couldn’t make up for the years of neglect, the angry outbursts, and the constant drunkenness I’d put them through. Coming out of rehab, I had to prove to them I was serious about change—about being a better dad. Words alone wouldn’t cut it. I had to show them through my actions.

Before rehab, my life was driven by one thing: the next drink. I’d take the kids out to the pub or for meals just so I could have an excuse to drink. I’d pretend we needed something from the shops—milk or bread—but come back with wine. Every Sunday, I’d lock myself away in the living room to drink while watching the football. I’d tell myself it was my way to unwind, but really, I was hiding. Hiding from them, hiding from myself, and messaging the woman I was having an affair with. I didn’t see it then, but I was slowly disappearing from their lives. They weren’t used to having me around, not really. And that breaks my heart now.

Since leaving rehab, I’ve had to completely reset how I interact with my kids. I didn’t want to be the angry, impatient, selfish dad they had known for so long. It’s taken time, but six months in, I can see a difference. The drinking is behind us, but the damage from my affair and the things I said while drunk—they still linger. It’s like a shadow over us, and I know it’s something I’ll have to keep working on.

One thing that’s become clear to me is that I’m a better father now. Not just because I’ve stopped drinking, but because I’m present. Truly present. I’m no longer weighed down by alcohol or the stress of living with their mum. It’s bittersweet because I wish I could see my kids more often. I’m fighting for 50/50 custody, but the time I do get with them now is so much more meaningful. I used to see them every day, but I wasn’t really there for them. Now, I’m fully focused on them during the limited time we have together, and that’s made all the difference.

My apartment isn’t big, but that’s brought us closer in ways I hadn’t expected. We eat together, watch TV together, and spend proper time as a family. In the old house, I’d retreat to a separate room, hiding away. Now, I crave their company. They seem to enjoy being with me—at least, I hope they do. It’s hard sometimes, knowing I’ve turned their lives upside down. I can see it in their eyes, the confusion, the pain. But I remind myself that everything happens for a reason. If my affair hadn’t been found out, if I hadn’t hit rock bottom with my drinking, I wouldn’t have gone to rehab. I wouldn’t have had the chance to hit the reset button on my life, and more importantly, on my relationship with my kids.

Life is different now. It’s slower, more intentional. I don’t spend entire days hungover, wasting time. I get a solid 4-5 hours of sleep, and I wake up ready to engage with life. I’ve got more energy than I’ve had in years. It’s funny—I would have laughed at the idea of writing a blog before, but now it feels like therapy. Something that helps me process everything I’ve been through.

The truth is, drinking took me to some very dark places. I used to convince myself that the kids didn’t notice when I was drunk, but they did. Maybe they didn’t say anything because that’s all they knew. Drinking was so ingrained in who I was, they probably thought it was normal. But now, things are different. I’m not obsessing over the next drink anymore. I’ve swapped alcohol for coffee, and while the temptation is still there on some days, I pull myself back by thinking of my children. Especially the new memories we’ve started creating over the past six months. Before, life was a fast-paced blur of drinking and poor decisions. Now, it’s slower, but it’s clearer. And it’s better.

I know I’ve still got a long way to go. The hurt I caused doesn’t just vanish overnight, and the wounds run deep. But I’m finally in a place where I can be the dad they deserve. I’m not just physically present—I’m here emotionally and mentally too. And for the first time in a long time, I’m proud of the father I’m becoming. I can only hope that, in time, they’ll see that in me too.