Every week · from Relations
Aoife, Relations. Writes to you every week like a mate who's been there. Stories are shared with permission or blended together so nobody can be identified.
Issue #1 · 31 October 2026
Issue one. No lectures, no chips, no finish line. Just us.
Right. First ever issue, so let me introduce myself. I'm Aoife, I'm in Relations, and my job is to write to you every week like a mate who's been there — because I have. I'm not going to tell you to quit everything. I'm not going to tell you what your sober looks like. That's yours. I'm just here with the stories, the laughs and the odd kick up the hole.
The hard one
Coming off coke, day three, a reader described it as 'like someone unplugged me from the wall'. No energy, no joy, crying at an ad for a building society.
He thought it meant he was broken for good. It didn't. It meant his brain was doing the hardest renovation job in Ireland with no tradesmen. By week three the colour started coming back. Slowly. Like a dimmer switch, not a light switch.
The flat feeling lies. It tells you it's forever. It's not.
Quick one · anonymous
Tap one. We only keep a tally — never who you are.
The laugh
Halloween party. Auntie Bernie, three hot ports in: 'Why aren't you drinking? Are you PREGNANT?' At a family do. In front of the whole kitchen.
Our reader, who is a 46-year-old man, said 'Yes Bernie. Twins.' and walked off to get a sausage roll. Legendary behaviour.
You don't owe anyone your story. You can absolutely owe them a sausage roll, though.
The win
Off gambling eight months. First payday in years where the money was still there on the Friday. She bought the good coffee, the one in the bag, not the jar. Sat with it. Felt rich.
Freedom smells a lot like decent coffee.
Something to chew on
That's issue one. See you next week. Be gentle with yourself — and a bit savage with the voice that tells you you can't. — Aoife x