'My hangxiety after a big night out with the girls was so bad, I tried something drastic.'

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The idea came to me after a big night out with some of my best girlfriends. Though if I'm honest, it was a fairly typical night out for us. We started with a bottle of champagne, which led to another and then another.

Before we knew it, we'd polished off the equivalent of a bottle each and filled the night with hilarious stories and enough reminiscing to fill our cups full until the next catch-up.

My cup was full both literally and metaphorically.

But while this night felt familiar, the aftermath wasn't. An all-pervading feeling of dread and severe anxiety took hold the following week.

It was almost crippling.

Watch: Here are just some of the effects after one year without drinking alcohol. Post continues after video.

My mind kept racing, ruminating — replaying every conversation, worrying I'd said too much, not enough, offended someone.

Old worries also resurfaced with renewed intensity and urgency, usually at 2am. The anxiety was almost unbearable, worsened by my lack of sleep.

While this was the most extreme it had been, I was in denial of how long this creeping "hangxiety" had been building. I'd noticed my response to alcohol shifting — the effects kicking in sooner, becoming more intense — sometimes triggering vertigo.

And my sleep increasingly interrupted.

I didn't want to admit it, but the pleasure and escapism that I once found in alcohol was gradually being eroded. The metaphorical cup of joy was slowly draining.

And then there was coffee — my other love. Like alcohol, caffeine's impact on me was also changing.

Even with just one morning coffee, I could feel the caffeine buzz linger well into the night. Heart palpitations, increased heart and restlessness kept me toe-tapping until dawn.

I don't think I was physically addicted to these drinks, but I was definitely hooked on the anticipatory pleasure and dopamine rush they offered.

I looked forward to my morning coffee, my Friday night drinks with the girls. And I loved the version of me that was propped up by them — more productive, energetic, outgoing and fun.

Giving them up felt like losing a part of myself. And I had no idea what would be left without them.

I realised that transforming my relationship with coffee and alcohol required a radical approach.

Past attempts at moderation only drew me back. So, I committed to three months of complete abstinence — short enough to see an endpoint, but long enough to break old habits and create new ones.

"I found myself trying to compensate for the fact I wasn't drinking," writes Zoe Aitkin. Image: Supplied

The first few weeks were tough. Without all those regular dopamine-inducing hits, my mood plummeted.

Everything felt flat and dull, and I craved the artificial and instant high that caffeine and alcohol once gave me.

I also noticed the absence of the anticipatory pleasure — the feeling of looking forward to something special, my morning coffee, or the reward of my Friday night wine.

That feeling of looking forward to something, in hindsight, was a crucial part of their enjoyment. And now that is gone.

Socially it was also revealing. I realised how inextricably linked alcohol was to my catch-ups; nearly all of them revolved around alcohol.

Without it, I felt like something was lacking, like I was lacking. And they took more effort.

I found myself trying to compensate for the fact I wasn't drinking, trying to bring more energy and laughs.

The 'flatness' stayed with me until I stopped wallowing and got proactive with finding new forms of pleasure; new ways to connect, new morning rituals, new Friday night rewards.

I asked my girlfriends for support, and many embraced it.

Instead of bars, we met at bathhouses, went to the theatre, planned hikes and pottery classes, and went for morning runs.

I introduced a new morning routine of stretching and sprinkled my day with simpler joys like scented candles, chocolate, tickling my son, having a sauna, or treating myself to a massage.

I tuned in to what genuinely brought me joy and focused on doing more of those things.

The three months have now come to an end, and I've begun reintroducing alcohol and coffee into my life — with a newfound perspective.

The abstinence period helped reshape my relationship with these pleasures and, more importantly, allowed me to connect with what truly makes me happy.

I realised that while coffee and alcohol offered a shortcut to guaranteed pleasure, they also prevented me from exploring a deeper understanding of myself.

Removing these artificial highs pushed me to find genuine joy in everyday moments.

It took effort, and at times it felt like hard work — especially when, frankly, all I wanted was a glass of wine.

But once I pushed through, and my brain adjusted to my new reality, I was able to access what feels like a more authentic version of myself.

Read more of our stories about alcohol:

• What quitting alcohol does to your body after one day, one week and one month.

• 'I've been sober for 5 years. Here's what I'm really thinking when you're drinking.'

• 'I'd have a bottle of wine a night and not feel drunk.' 300 women on how much they really drink.

Feature image: Supplied.