Liam Payne, Addiction and Me
On 16th October 2024, the English singer-songwriter Liam Payne fell to his death from the third-floor balcony of a Buenos Aires hotel. When I first heard this news, I paid little attention. Modern pop music isn't my bag, and I'm far too male, too straight and (sadly) too old to be a One Direction fan. If you saw me hanging around at one of their concerts you'd assume I was an awkward Dad waiting to give his daughter and her mates a lift home.
But as I read more about the thirty-one year old’s death, I couldn't help but be gripped, because the struggles Liam Payne endured with alcohol and drugs are similar to those that plagued me for much of my life. If I hadn't quit drinking 11 years ago, I could have easily suffered the same awful fate.
Well, not exactly the same fate. Unlike Liam, I don't have boyband good looks, a crooner's voice or the soft, easy charm of a teen idol. But what I do have is the propensity to destroy my life every time I take a drink. And those who share this particular weakness will know that I'm not exaggerating.
Once I start drinking, the night follows an inexorable course. The more I have, the more I want. And I won't stop until I lapse into unconsciousness - an oblivion in which I no longer have to think, move or feel.
The first time I got blackout drunk was at a beach bar in Venezuela. I was two years of age. I snuck a sip of a cocktail while the adults weren’t looking, and apparently loved the taste so much that I tottered off around the bar, demolishing other drinks while their owners’ backs were turned (a trick I later perfected at university). This escapade marked me down as both a potential alcoholic, and a total legend. And it was indeed an impressive feat for a toddler - until I ended up in hospital later that night with alcohol poisoning.
I loved alcohol. I loved the way it quelled the voices in my head. I loved the way it made me stronger, better, more confident. I loved the Francis with a pint in his hand, telling jokes and making people roar with laughter. He was so much more fun than the morose, socially-awkward, anxiety-ridden man underneath; who would want to hang out with him? I certainly didn’t. And so, I became addicted.
Addiction is a ruthless enemy. I fought it for many years. I watched members of my own family fight it. And Liam Payne fought it, right up to the moment it overcame him. Addiction is a shapeshifter, that can take on many forms; alcoholism, drug addiction, sex addiction, OCD. But these addictions all have one thing in common: they are coping mechanisms. They are tools we use to help deal with the pain and uncertainty of living.
The only real difference between Liam and myself (besides the aforementioned gulf in looks, charm and talent) is that I was lucky enough not to have millions of pounds and all the perks of showbiz success at my disposal. When drinking caused my life to unravel, I had no choice but to face reality. I had no safety net, nothing to fall back on, nowhere to hide. But Liam had so many hiding places. Money, success and sycophancy; all these things enabled and fed his addiction.
I extend my deepest sympathy to his family, particularly the little boy now left without a father. Success, wealth and fame - each of these is a gift and a curse. They can make life easier, but they can also turbo-charge addiction to the point where it’s virtually unstoppable. I will forever be grateful that my life allowed me the time and space to overcome my addiction. And my thoughts are with those who never had that chance.
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I think I once wrote about my own drunk toddler experience on locals for a writing competition. Not sure if you remember. Fortunately, I didn’t get alcohol poisoning just bad diarrhea for a couple of days. 6 months later when I was 3 my father got behind the wheel in one of those drunken stuper states you speak of and drove into a wall. He too couldn't stop drinking when he started. I grew up believing he chose drink over me. I was very angry at my father for dying and blamed him for the hurt I went through as a teenager. If he hadn't die it wouldn't have happened. He would have been there to protect me. I would cry myself to sleep asking the darkness, "Daddy why didn't you take me with you? Why did you leave me behind?"
Only once I had my own child I forgave my father and began to understand what he went through. I am facing similar problems in my marriage that my father had to face. I vow to be stronger. Alcohol can be a crutch for me but it hasn't become an addiction. I can stop. My weakness is my depression. It is a black hole,once I fall down it, it is almost impossible to get back out. I self-destruct. Destroying what is most dear to me because I believe I don't deserve it, no alcohol needed.
My heartbreaks for Liam's 7y/o boy. I still cry for my dad even now at age 43. The feeling of lose and the absence of my father never goes away. It is a weight you learn to carry with throughout life.
Francis you say Liam had places to hide that you didn't and that is what saved your life. However, you should give yourself more credit than that; forevyou saved yourself. You have a unique strength and resilience that I have seldom seem in others. The awkard man you were running from when holding a beer in your hand is the same strong man that saved you. You should love and appreciate that man, just like I have learnt to love and appreciate that , awkwardly crazy and ugly Claudia. She saved me 🤗
Francis James,
Have you ever thought of doing any public speaking in schools? I heard that you were a teacher and thought those might be good venues to share your life experiences, as well as the lessons you learned along the way. Hard work, self-reflection and the ability to take accountability for your actions in order to better yourself, are all keys to finding fulfilment.