About · Who wrote this site

About James Roberts

I drank every day for twenty-seven years. I have not had a drink since June 2020. I have come closer than I would like to admit. This site exists for the day after a slip, when the writing about it is almost entirely shame and almost none of it is useful.

If you are reading this, you have probably just drunk after a period of not drinking, or you are the person who has just been told. I was. I am writing relapse.guide because the day after a slip is where most of the harmful writing about addiction lives — and where the honest writing is needed most.

The medical detox was not optional. Stopping a twenty-seven-year drinking habit without medical supervision can kill you. Seizures, delirium tremens, cardiac complications. Coming off a heavy slip without medical advice can be dangerous, especially after a long dry period. The page on dangerous withdrawal signs on sober.guide explains why, with sources.

The dates

I was born in Manchester in February 1976. I am 50.

My parents were strict. I did not drink before university. I made up for it after.

From 18 to 45 — every day. Some days a glass. Most days a bottle. Some days more. Twenty-seven years.

I was a functioning alcoholic. I ran a headhunting firm of twenty staff, placing executives across travel and hospitality, in offices and hotel bars from London to Dubai to Cape Town. I made money. I kept friends. I drank through all of it.

Functioning alcoholism is a major issue for my generation. Most of us are still drinking. Some of us are dead. A few of us got out.

June 2020

I went into residential treatment at Delamere in Cheshire in June 2020. Four weeks residential. Medical detox, then the rest of it.

I have not had a drink since.

I am not going to write a redemption arc here. Rehab is not a cure. It bought me a structured month away from alcohol with people who knew what they were doing. The work was after.

The part I have to declare on this site

I did not relapse. I stopped once, in June 2020, and it held. On a site about the day after a slip, that is the first thing a man is entitled to know about the person who wrote it, and I am not going to borrow a relapse I did not have in order to sound like you.

I also know it is not a virtue, and I can tell you exactly what it was. I had known for years that this was coming; there was never a version of my life where I drank into old age. I was exhausted, in the way you only recognise afterwards. A strange, stopped year gave me the time and the reality check I would never have taken otherwise, and four weeks at Delamere gave me permission to use it. Time and a reality check were the saviour. The treatment made it allowable.

So the honest reading of my case is not willpower. It is conditions. That matters here, because conditions can sometimes be arranged, and because if you have started again it does not mean you lacked something I had.

What I do have is years of sitting at a table in Tenerife with people in recovery from several countries, a good number of whom slipped and got back up, and I watched what the next morning decided.

Tenerife

In December 2020 I moved to Tenerife and bought a finca outside Icod de los Vinos. I called it Casa Salvia — salvia is sage in Spanish. I burnt sage in the mornings.

Casa Salvia ran as a 9.7-rated BnB for several years. I hosted guests in recovery from many walks of life. I ran sober golf events. I sold the BnB recently.

I do not currently live in the UK. My clothes are still in a house in Scotland I have not been back to. My ex-husband has visited me here. He has supported me through this in a way no money could buy. Genuine love. That part of the story is not finished.

Why this site exists

In the first year of sobriety I started understanding how the recovery industry talks about relapse. As failure. As proof. As a reason to sell another four weeks. The honest writing — that a slip is information, not a verdict — was buried under shame and sales copy. The people in the worst hour of it were the buyers rehabs want, and almost nothing useful had been written for them.

I had money. I had panic. I had a family who wanted me fixed. I read everything. Most of what I read was written by people selling something — a rehab bed, a programme, a book, a sponsorship pipeline.

The honest information existed. It was buried. NICE guidelines, peer-reviewed papers, the Royal College of Psychiatrists, NHS pages. Not optimised for Google. Not written for someone in week one. And almost none of it was written for the partner watching it from across the kitchen.

The male.guide network is my attempt to put the honest version where the buying happens.

There are guides elsewhere in the network for the people around a drinker, and for work going wrong, which is where a good deal of this starts. Each site has its own AI guide. The bot will not invent a rehab name, a phone number, or a price. The encyclopedia pages are written in plain English with sources you can check.

What I am not

I am not a doctor. I am not a therapist. I am not a counsellor. I am not in recovery as a profession.

I am a man who drank for twenty-seven years, stopped, and built the resource I wish had existed in June 2020 — for me, and for the people who lived with me.

If you need medical advice, see a doctor. If you are in crisis, the crisis links on every page are never paywalled and never will be.

How this is funded

The network is independent. No rehab pays me. No broker pays me. No referral fee comes to me from any clinic mentioned anywhere on these sites. I have no financial interest in any treatment facility, broker, or referral business.

A daily allowance of conversation on each guide is complimentary because the hour people arrive in is not an hour to be asked for money. Membership, which keeps what you work out across sessions, is bought and managed at the network console rather than here, and its price is shown there and nowhere else. The safety routes and the withdrawal information are free and stay free, and nothing commercial is ever shown to somebody in trouble.

If a clinic ever pays for placement, the page will say so at the top in plain English. That has not happened and is not planned.

The line

I am unique. But this is the truth.

We all are.

— James Roberts
Manchester, by way of Cheshire, Tenerife, and a few other places. Last reviewed April 2026. Nothing on this page is medical advice.

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