Former sober for six years relapses after drinking vanilla essence, highlighting hidden alcohol in pantry items

Nikki Langman was six and a half years sober when she relapsed in 2023 in a way she never could have imagined: by drinking vanilla essence, a pantry staple that contains 35 percent alcohol. The relapse did not involve a wild night out or a hidden bottle of spirits. Instead, in a moment of madness at the supermarket, she bought and drank multiple bottles of vanilla essence, a pattern that tore through her insides with GI pain and reflux and that she later learned had left her with a blood-alcohol reading six times the legal driving limit.

Langman, who grew up in California and now lives in Melbourne, had spent three decades battling alcohol and substance abuse. She recalls the first exposure to alcohol as a child, stealing gin from her parents’ liquor cabinet at age seven in a bid to understand what adults at parties called the 'magic water' that supposedly made people more confident and happy. The experience left her sick, but it also planted a pattern of secrecy and normalization around drinking that persisted as she grew older. 'I didn’t drink vanilla essence because I was stupid. I drank it because I was addicted and desperate. And if I can find that loophole, so can your teenager,' she later said.

By her early teens, Langman was drinking secretly at school. Her early years were marked by loneliness and a sense that no one noticed if she was around or not, a sentiment she said contributed to escalating problems with alcohol and, later, drugs. She experimented with marijuana and cocaine, though she says she never enjoyed those substances. An accelerated path followed: a serious fall while intoxicated left her with a broken back and a prescription for the opioid OxyContin, which soon became another addiction. In addition to OxyContin and alcohol, she became dependent on benzodiazepines such as Valium and Xanax, then widely prescribed in the United States. She described a habit of doctor-shopping—visiting multiple providers to obtain controlled medications—while continuing to advance professionally in hospitality and education.

To keep accessing substances, she carried water bottles of clear spirits to her workplace, taking swigs in bathroom stalls and using strategies like garlic crackers to mask the scent. Despite several rehab attempts and stretches of sobriety, including abstinence during pregnancy, she relapsed repeatedly. At the peak of her addiction, she consumed large quantities of vodka and pills daily. She recalled waking with shakes, drinking vodka before work, and then drinking while at work—yet she did not feel the typical social consequences because her tolerance was high. 'I was killing myself right in front of people. It was an invisibility cloak and that terrifies me,' she said.

Langman’s rock bottom arrived in 2017 when her employer went into administration, leaving her without daily structure and meals. She stopped functioning or eating, and the constant tremors defined the days. When her husband returned from visiting his parents and found her lying on the floor, his warning haunted her: 'I’m going to come home one day and you’ll be dead. But I’ll know you didn’t mean to do it. You just got it wrong.' That moment of clarity led to emergency care and marked the start of six and a half years of sobriety. During this period, she took up ultramarathons and karate, contributed to the Rethink Addiction movement, wrote a book, and became a professional speaker—redefining herself as a model of recovery.

But in 2023, life pressures mounted again, and the strategies that had carried her through earlier sobriety no longer satisfied her. In a state of desperation and a belief that she could avoid a relapse by choosing a seemingly innocuous option, she purchased vanilla essence at a supermarket and began drinking it directly. The habit persisted for months, with the highly alcoholic liquid tearing up her internal organs and causing ongoing GI pain and reflux. A routine medical appointment to manage pain revealed her intoxication, and a blood test showed an alcohol reading of 0.3, six times the legal driving limit in Australia. Her long-time clinician, who had treated her for 13 years, observed that she has 'the potential to be addicted to anything.' After this relapse, she returned to rehab for several months, choosing not to disclose the exact method of relapse to other patients to avoid offering ideas.

Today, Langman has not touched alcohol for more than a year and a half. She avoids even non-alcoholic beer, wine, or spirits, fearful that the smell or taste could trigger a relapse. She also notes that even the scent of a Christmas tree can remind her of gin. Her focus has shifted to educating others about addiction through storytelling. She is an international keynote speaker, author, coach, and founder of UNBRICKABLE, a program that helps people express what words cannot. 'I’m using my story for good now, to educate, inspire and help others feel like they’re not alone in their struggles,' she said. 'I don’t believe in weakness and failure isn’t a bad thing. You don’t have strengths and weaknesses, you just have behaviours and tendencies.' She emphasizes that recovery is ongoing and personal, and she remains vigilant against the risk of relapse.

Langman also highlighted a public-safety idea born from her relapse: pantry items that contain alcohol but aren’t shelved in the liquor section—such as vanilla essence—should be stored behind glass cabinets to reduce access by curious teenagers. 'I didn’t drink vanilla essence because I was stupid. I drank it because I was addicted and desperate. And if I can find that loophole, so can your teenager,' she warned. For those seeking help, she notes the Australian National Alcohol and Other Drug Hotline at 1800 250 015 provides free and confidential advice about alcohol and other drugs.

Health professionals emphasize that Langman’s story underscores the complexity of addiction and the importance of ongoing support systems, monitoring, and publicly available resources. Recovery paths vary, and stories like hers can inform broader conversations about how to recognize early warning signs, reduce access to high-risk substances in everyday environments, and strengthen community and clinical support for people in recovery.