Did I drink myself stupid because I’d inherited ‘alcohol genes’? asks Julie Cook – Revealing DNA research link alcohol consumption with genetics

When I woke up, a pair of unfamiliar eyes looked at me. They belonged to a man wearing a fluorescent jacket and green overalls, the kind worn by paramedics.

“You’re okay,” he said softly. ‘How are you feeling now?’

My head was throbbing as I sat up and found myself on a cold metal bench in the middle of the night. I heard a train announcement and realized I was at a train station.

Panic set in as I struggled to remember what I was doing there. Did I have an accident?

The paramedic patiently explained that I had caught the train home, had fallen asleep, and the cashier had been unable to wake me up to check my ticket.

They stopped the train at Woking (an unscheduled stop) and I was taken away – unconscious and unconscious – by emergency services.

Medically there was nothing wrong; I was a healthy woman in my 20s. I was just horribly, humiliatingly drunk, drinking prosecco for about seven hours with work colleagues in a pub. The last thing I remember is boarding the train. Then I lost consciousness.

This story may sound frighteningly familiar. From corporate parties to intimate holiday dinners, the temptation is huge this time of year.

At least that’s how it always was for me until I quit drinking in 2019 after years of heavy drinking.

Once, leaving a huge party, I fell drunk outside a hotel on Park Lane and the valet helped me off the pavement. Christmas itself was often a blur.

Go out on Christmas Eve, wet yourself, vomit, wake up on Christmas Day with a hangover, vomit again, cook a roast while feeling nauseous, start with dog hair, then drink until New Year’s Eve.

I laughed it off at the time, calling it seasonal abundance. But now, remembering this, I feel ashamed. Sometimes I would verbally lash out when drunk and then not remember what I said to my ex-partner the next day.

When I was 30, I married my husband Cornel. He was never a big drinker and, oddly enough, tolerated me, but often said that he hoped I would cut down on my drinking.

So, imagine my delight when I received ironclad proof that this love of Christmas spirits is not entirely my fault; that my body was programmed to drink excessively while the friends around me stopped.

A study of genes linked to alcohol consumption conducted by Pennsylvania State University in the US found that how much you drink can be significantly influenced by your DNA.

When the 3.4 million study participants were asked how much they drank, the 10 percent of people of white European ancestry with the highest genetic score associated with alcohol drinking averaged more than seven drinks per week.

However, the 10 percent with the lowest genetic score drank fewer than four drinks per week.

Professor Sir Munir Pirmohamed from the University of Liverpool worked on another similar study that identified genetic variants associated with alcohol consumption.

This study found that heavy drinkers—at least five bottles of wine a week for men and three and a half for women—have six specific genetic variants.

He explains: “Using the UK Biobank (a bank containing the genetic information of half a million people), we determined that people who drink more tend to have certain variants in their genes – ADH1B being the most common.

“Indeed, 50 percent of the variance in alcohol use disorders is explained by genetic factors. If you have these variations—some people may have one or two, some may have all six variations—it increases your risk of drinking even more.”

Interestingly, I used the genetic testing firm 23andme and discovered that I have not one, but four genetic variants for “alcohol dependence” (including ADH1B), which predispose a person to drink more and increase the likelihood of alcoholism.

Relief washed over me. I felt vindicated, as if the burden of guilt and embarrassment had disappeared. But there were also questions.

Professor Pirmohamed emphasizes that alcoholism is not a foregone conclusion for carriers of these variants.

“No single gene by itself is necessary or sufficient to lead to alcohol dependence,” he says. “Other factors in your lifestyle also play a role, such as family, life experiences, social groups and even access to alcohol.”

I thought about my father, who died of cancer at the age of 59. Did I inherit genes from him? Like me, he “save” his drinks for Friday and Saturday nights, becoming lighter and more talkative with each drink.

He told me stories about how as a child he was not allowed to see his own father when he was drinking, saying that his mother locked his father in another room.

So it was passed down to both of us from my grandfather? Does this mean I passed it on to my children aged 15 and 10?

I was 13 when I first tasted alcohol from my father’s homemade beer barrel. Giggling, my friends and I helped ourselves while he was at work. But if they had one or two glasses, then I had four.

So, the pattern was installed. We forced older children to go into an off-license store and buy us liquor and cider. But when others stopped, I drank until I could not get up.

As a young journalist, women were encouraged to “drink men under the table.” And my tolerance has increased. On a wild day, I easily drank two bottles of wine.

Then I would wake up early in the morning, with a dry mouth, a pounding headache, and at 3 a.m. I would experience horrors—did I fall last night? Who did I offend?

Oddly enough, I never thought I had a drinking problem and no one ever told me I did. Looking back, I would call myself a functioning binge drinker (my career never faltered) rather than an alcoholic. But once I started drinking, I couldn’t stop.

When I had my two kids, in 2008 and 2013, I stopped drinking completely while they were little, but then fell off the wagon as they got older and indulged in it on the weekends as a “treat” after they went to bed. .

I had conditioned myself to believe that alcohol was a tonic. Because it’s boring. Or get angry. Or sad. Or tired.

It wasn’t until one night in 2019, when I was 42 years old, that I found the inner strength to stop.

I was in Paris with my husband, having a cocktail, and I thought, “I don’t like doing this anymore.” I wanted to see Napoleon’s tomb the next day without a hangover. I haven’t touched the drink since then.

It may seem strange that someone with seemingly no off switch could stop so suddenly. But I thought about it for a while, hating the shame and the fuzzy memory. I knew that moderation would never help me.

The fact that I was able to stop so suddenly gives me hope that while our drinking behavior may be a genetic predisposition, it may not be a curse.

Professor Pirmohamed says: “This doesn’t mean that if you carry these genes you will always drink a lot. It’s about avoiding triggers where possible.”

I can testify that living sober is so much better. I notice more, remember more, sleep better.

I wish I had known earlier that I had this genetic predisposition. Would this help me limit my drinking? I don’t know, but this explains my enormous tolerance for alcohol.

I hope I don’t pass this on to my kids, but if I ever start showing signs of addiction, I’ll be the first to tell them.

Meanwhile, this Christmas (my fifth sober), while others start drinking sherry, I’ll be drinking elderberry sparkling water.

One friend suggested that I was still “addicted” but addicted to quitting alcohol. I’ll gladly accept it.