When I read back through my journals from that time, although I can see traces of myself in some of the entries, most of it sounds like the thoughts of an entirely different person. As I look afresh with the clarity which is born of hindsight, I find it difficult to believe that I documented such minute details. My whole days must have been dominated by tables, graphs and spreadsheets.

Occasional glimpses of my present feelings catch me unawares, making my heart leap momentarily in recognition:

“Woke up feeling great; desperate by mid morning.”

This was all so long ago; another age, another lifetime. Until I came across these thoughts by chance in an unprecedented spring clean, I had successfully convinced myself that I was in control.

I know that I have conquered my demons.

They have no hold over me.

I am a new person.

I am a new person.

I am, indeed a new person. My clean house bears witness to that fact. I am a new person.

Despite an enormous effort of will, my eyes are unwillingly drawn to the next phrase. The words leap from the page, cutting straight to my stomach. I am in the 24 hour service station, purse in hand, heart pounding.

The roads are empty; I could be there in 15 minutes.

Nothing in my life has ever been or ever will be more important. Before I pick up the car keys, I take one last look at the entry and, as if taking on fuel to help me reach my destination, I drink in the next phrase:

“…….Desperate by mid morning. Ate a packet of chocolate digestives.”