What Millie Mackintosh’s “Bad Drunk” Made Me Realise About My Own Grey Area Drinking

When I picked up Bad Drunk by Millie Mackintosh, I wasn’t expecting it to hit quite so close to home. But within the first few pages, I felt like I was reading parts of my own story, moments of fuzzy shame, questionable decisions, and that gnawing feeling of why can’t I just stop at one?

Millie’s raw honesty in exploring her complicated relationship with alcohol stirred something in me. She doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, and she’s not preaching sobriety as the only path. But her willingness to talk openly about the grey areas—the messiness between “normal” drinking and full-blown addiction—struck a chord.

That grey area is where I lived for years. I wasn’t drinking every day. I never hit a rock bottom but alcohol slowly chipped away at my self confidence and I felt I’d lost a sense of who I was.

Reading Bad Drunk made me wish I’d had a sober coach back then. Not because I needed someone to tell me I was an alcoholic (I wasn’t), but because I needed someone to validate the unease I felt. Someone who could’ve said, “You don’t have to hit rock bottom to want better.”

A sober coach could’ve helped me unpack why I was drinking in the first place. Why I needed that glass of wine to take the edge off. Why I kept waking up at 3 a.m. full of regret, even though everyone else said I was “just having fun.”

What Bad Drunk captures so well is how alcohol sneaks into every part of life until it becomes a character in your story—sometimes the lead. And like Millie, I eventually had to ask myself: Do I like who I am when I drink?

The answer was no.

And yet, quitting wasn’t a dramatic, rock-bottom moment. It was a quiet reckoning, a slow building of boundaries and clarity. It was learning to trust my instincts, even when people around me didn’t understand.

Looking back, I know that a sober coach could’ve helped me navigate those murky waters with more confidence. Someone who got it. Someone who wouldn’t have minimised my discomfort just because I “didn’t have a problem.”

If you’ve ever questioned your drinking—even just a little—I highly recommend Bad Drunk. Not because it has a 10-step plan, but because it offers something rarer: permission to explore your own relationship with alcohol without shame.

And if I could give one piece of advice to my past self (and maybe to you, if you're reading this), it would be this: You don’t have to do it alone. Whether it’s a coach, a community, or a good book—you deserve support.