Henny Fox has a hugely impressive career under her belt, with a stellar CV featuring some of London’s biggest names, from Corbin & King to Annabel’s, to her current role as Director of Operations for a large London club.

Henny knows how easy it is to slip into addiction in our industry, and how impossible it can feel to get sober when your workplace revolves around the very things you’re trying to avoid. She also knows first-hand how crucial it is to find a way out – and that, despite your fears, there is light and joy on the other side. That’s why she wanted to share her story with you.

This is part one of two taking a dive into the raw story of her addiction. The next instalment will deal with her recovery journey, and provide crucial information and tips for regaining control of your own life, just as she did.

With huge thanks to Henny for her bravery in sharing her experience.

It’s Saturday night and the management briefing is finished. I’m sitting in one of the eight bars on site with my Head of Beverage, and talk turns to that frequent topic – how do we incentivise this generation to get on board with hospitality? When I first started in this industry, great workplace culture was pretty much a euphemism for free drinks. Now ‘shot o’clock’ no longer cuts it in a Gen Z world, but ‘Mindfulness Hour’ doesn’t have the same ring to it.

My Head of Beverage begins to share with me a brief interaction he’d had earlier with a bartender in his team who was struggling in his personal life. Those struggles had led his alcohol and drug habits to spiral out of control, and that was impacting on his ability to make decisions in the workplace. This inevitably led the Head of Beverage to have a frank ‘offsite conversation’ which went down the lines of ‘sort your life out before it gets the better of you’.  We both contemplated how these deeply personal conversations were happening far too often and far too late, even in an age where Mental Health seems to be at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

I confess to having more than a professional interest in this huge problem within hospitality, and I hope that my own journey can provide some insight and inspiration towards change. 

I was 13 when I had my first drink. I was offered a drink at a party and I politely requested a gin and tonic, which I was promptly given without question. By the time I was 16 I had left school, I was working in charity and was also performing in two bands in both my home city of Manchester and in London. Drinking quickly became a significant part of my social self: wine out with dinner, cocktails in clubs accompanied with a joint whenever offered. I had a high level of independence from a very early age, and with that came comments about ‘how mature I was’. I loved the positive affirmation. Even the clubs I performed in lied about my age, I never had problems with ID and I was proud of my self sufficiency. I could manage by myself very well. By the time I was 18 I had moved to London full time and my first job in the city was in a cocktail bar; I loved the independence, I loved the work, I was good at it, I met some incredible people but within a month I had been introduced to cocaine.

Drinking and drugs very quickly became who I was. The long nights and short days of the job were hard but I felt seen and heard. I loved the excitement of ‘ordering in’ and I loved even more the feeling of when it hit. I felt totally in charge and it was probably the first  time I felt truly free to be myself. In those moments I could escape from life and be the person I thought I needed to be. What I could not see were the consequences and the toll that this lifestyle was taking on my personal life.

As a performer, I have always had the ability to ‘put on a brave face’ and pretend that I was okay – in fact, more than okay.  It was important to me to do more than anyone else and to “win at life.”  I did a good job at that performance – everyone would tell me I was winning and I loved the buzz of getting the next job and the next promotion. The real me beneath this mask was the absolute opposite. The reality was one of utter insecurity, a constant script of negativity with no self confidence and zero self-belief.  This need to hide the real me not only masked the fact that I was suffering, but it fuelled my habit and, by using regularly, I convinced myself that I’d developed a formula to survive.

I had no clue who I was without the alcohol and the drugs, and simply no idea about the chaos that would inevitably creep into my life and the people I’d hurt along the road as I determinedly made my way and carried on with this lifestyle. On the surface I was doing a great job: my career was developing and I appeared to be nailing life in the industry. But I was killing myself in the process. I thought that the person I had built through drink and drugs was truly me, a preferable version of me who didn’t have to face up to reality or acknowledge past traumas. The reality was the opposite. By not facing what was really going on and denying the fact that I was constantly in fear, my need to escape became ever more urgent, and after 10 years of using, everything finally came to an abrupt halt.

It was in the middle of lockdown, using by myself in the bathroom at home, when I saw the reality of the state I was in and the life I was living. At that moment I knew I simply could not continue. After doing some research on rehabs and recovery programs, I was directed to self-refer via my GP. Through this, I was put onto a ‘relapse prevention program’ and was later recommended AA meetings.  For about eighteen months, that is precisely what I did.

Staying sober after returning to work post-lockdown gave me a degree of confidence and the false sense of security that I was ‘recovered’. One evening after a particularly hard shift at work, I walked into a pub and very confidently ordered a G and T, just like I used to. That one drink, despite all the months of sobriety, was all it took. Three months later, despite me trying to ‘control’ the habit, I was back using. This time, the goal was more than just hiding the real me from the world.  I instinctively knew it was self-destruction.

I couldn’t exist in a world where I felt the way I did. No amount of cocaine or alcohol could get rid of the weight I felt and I couldn’t see how I could carry on living the way I was.  It took a further four months of chaotic living before I was able to come to a second, and perhaps deeper, realisation that I had a very serious problem which was not going to simply go away with a phone call to the GP or a counsellor.  I had some serious choices to make. Do I want to live or do I want to die? It really was that simple.

Like before, I knew following a 12 Step Program worked and I knew the steps I needed to take to get back on track. I called a fellow and got myself to a meeting and have been sober ever since. Recovery requires you to be two feet in – there’s no dancing around the perimeters or working through half hearted. The first time round, recovery was not my priority whereas now, it’s the first and foremost most important thing. Without my recovery, there’s nothing else. 

I can tell you that recovery is not easy, never mind recovery in an industry where all those vices are laid out daily in front of you. I admire those who can have a single glass of wine over dinner and call it quits. That just isn’t me:  I am all or nothing, probably in every aspect of my life.  That can have both positive and negative consequences, but it’s that very same self-awareness, together with the responsibility of leadership within a multi-million pound hospitality business, that informs my present reality and road to recovery.  It is about acknowledging and knowing who I am, and accepting my strengths  as well as my weaknesses. Having good people around us to uplift and point us in the right direction helps too, but most importantly we need to love ourselves enough to make the choice to change.

If you are struggling, reach out. Go to a meeting. Get help. It is within reach, you just need to make that first step. The only person who can make that move is you, and once you do, it really does make your life worth living. I know first-hand that there is a hidden joy in addiction recovery: the joy of surrounding yourself with support and finding friendship, community, freedom – and finding yourself. Existing is hard, but I would rather exist within this hardship surrounded by people who support me and lift me up, than exist in misery. 

If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction, we have a list of resources here. We are also working with Henny to answer community questions regarding addiction, either your own or those around you, so please feel free to reach out to service@countertalk.co.uk in total confidence. We will be pleased to refer your question to Henny.