Standing in the shower at 6.30am, I turned up the temperature, hotter and hotter. The water burned my skin, but I didn’t care. I felt I deserved it.
My daughter and two sons, then aged nine, six and four, were getting ready for school. I was exhausted – but not because of the pressures of motherhood.
I had been up till 2am doing lines of cocaine. Now I was attempting to cleanse myself of my shame.
At 39, I was married, living in a beautiful four-bedroom house in Surrey. Before choosing to be a stay-at-home mum, I’d earned £100,000 a year in my
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