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It was 10pm when my exhausted parents dropped me off at an addiction rehab in Wiltshire and sped off in their car, leaving me bewildered and wondering if I would ever be able to sort myself out. Granted, it is not as glamorous an arrival as Britney Spears, who, it’s reported, has travelled by private jet to check herself into an out-of-state treatment facility in the US, after her drink-driving arrest in California last month, but I am sure the terrified, deep and empty feeling will be exactly the same.
I fumbled my way into the lofty entrance hall with a waterfall. It looked like a lovely country house vacation with rolling hills outside, but it was anything but. I can still remember that feeling of dread as I was led into my shared room to meet my detoxing roommate and to get to grips with the full-on programme of recovery. It would start bright and early the next morning– typically with a “Just For Today” meditation reading.
I was 22, and while Britney is 44, I know where she’s at, having booked into many UK rehabs in my early twenties – over six to be precise – before I finally found sobriety at 24 for alcohol addiction, codependency and love addiction. That was 25 years ago now, but age doesn’t matter, or background, when you are consumed with pain and arrive at a dead end in your life, mentally, physically and spiritually shredded.
I had this unforgettable crushing feeling. Like Britney, who reportedly “realises she hit rock bottom”, I had many wakeup calls. My final one was looking in the mirror and realising if I didn’t stop taking substances, I was going to die: in one week, for example, I’d just crashed my car and overdosed. That’s what brought me to my first rehab. I knew I had to change but in that moment, I felt torn between escaping the pain and going through it.
I’d had many family interventions. According to TMZ, Britney finally listened to her inner circle, who have been urging her to check herself in to a treatment facility to treat her issues with substances such as alcohol and the ADHD medication Adderall, before she returns before a judge on 4 May. Since the arrest, Spears has been “diligently” working the AA programme, an insider told the Daily Mail last month.
This is not her first rehab rodeo, either. In Britney Spears’ book The Woman in Me, she claims she was secretly sent to rehab in 2014 and 2019, armed with a security guard for her use of over-the-counter energy supplements. “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I was hell on wheels. I was taking a lot of Adderall”, she wrote.
Having struggled with a series of very public highs and lows since the early 2000s, when she was placed under a controversial conservatorship led by her father, Jamie Spears, Britney is now “putting her mental health first”. So, what does that look like behind those clinic doors?
She is likely to be in full swing of group therapy, one-to-one therapy; there are peer evaluations where the other patients tell you exactly what they observe in you (often not your good qualities but it’s “lovingly” done and “constructive”).
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There is a big chance she will be doing therapeutic chores, which for me, included mopping the kitchen floor and hoovering an entire rehab before breakfast – when we had to say the serenity prayer popularised by Alcoholics Anonymous, before eating: (”God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.”)
There will be “fun” nights where you all get to do a group activity – although that might be different for somebody as famous as Britney. In-house meetings – or those secret celebrity AA meetings will be needed. It’s a huge culture shock to be thrown into recovery – and she will likely be feeling disoriented and very scared about what comes next.
The rehab programs are often 30 days, but reports suggest that Britney could stay longer for a deeper recovery – as I finally did on my last stint, going on to a second-stage rehab for six months.
For me, it was a long process to recover from addiction. The first rehab in Wiltshire didn’t work because the cravings to drink got the better of me – and I bolted. The next two years, until I was 24, I toured the UK rehab system, which is now seriously underfunded. I used my private medical insurance to fund my visits – until it ran out. By then, I had spent about £45,000.
The loneliest I ever felt was the day my bedroom door shut at the Priory in London. The room was lovely and light with a view across the lawn, but I may as well have been in a nuclear bunker. All I felt was emotional pain engulfing me – and a craving to dull it out with anything at all. It was Christmas, which made it even more depressing. My mum had sent me some gifts: Clarins skincare and a jumper.
I couldn’t even get myself off the bed to attend group therapy – and started to plot my escape again. They managed to get me to one group therapy session, and we all sat around in a circle saying “Hello, your name, I am an alcoholic/addict (or both)” and how we felt.
It got to my turn, and I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea what I felt, as I didn’t know who I was. I just wanted to go home. I felt this deep feeling of homesickness that ate away at me – yet I had no home to go back to, as my parents told me this rehab was my last chance saloon.
But it didn’t work. I was released and went straight back to my old ways – and stayed at an aristocratic friend’s house in Holland Park but he was giving his paintings to his dealer to fund his cocaine habit, so things just went from bad to worse.
Three months later, I arrived in an even worse state at the rehab in Wiltshire again, where I sat speechless in a lounge area while I was assigned new chores – this time collecting all the coffee mugs every night and washing them up. It was like the death knell as far as my mood was concerned. I was given tranquillisers to calm me down during an intense detox period for a few days – and then thrown into the “real” world.
Emotionally, I was gone. Even the friendliness of other patients (all different ages and stages, from young adults, to middle-aged and older – a few mums who’d had children put in care) and the welcome I was given, including tons of loving hugs, didn’t help. I felt disconnected – and a sense of terror. I remember sitting in a therapist’s office and saying: “I know I want to get better, but I just have to leave.”
They gave me the train fare, and my half-siblings met me at Paddington Station, who persuaded me to check into another London rehab. This was different – perhaps because the more relaxed approach suited me in a hotel-like therapy setting and I had nowhere else to go. I stayed for six weeks and found a new sense of hope in being sober.
But even then, I hadn’t properly addressed my demons, however, and soon “fell in love” with another newcomer in a 12-step meeting once out of rehab. He relapsed – and I joined him. I didn’t listen to the advice to stay out of relationships for one year and I had no understanding then that “falling in love” was my primary addiction to fix myself with something outside of myself.
Of course, the relationship was doomed to fail and only lasted three months. I found out a year later that he had died from his addictions.
It is only after our relationship ended that I truly faced the fact that no relationship could fix me. I was riddled with problems and insecurities that, if left unresolved, would take me “out of the door” again unless I worked on them. After that final relapse, I ended up desperate for recovery, which is the ideal place to find yourself if you want to do something about it.
So much time is spent in the denial phase – in my case, about six years. I remember thinking why everybody else was focused on me and making such a big deal out of everything. When I couldn’t stop drinking and using substances – and by the end it was for all my waking hours against my will – despite this newfound desire to quit – I learnt the true nature of powerlessness an addict faces.
I was so pummelled by addiction that I managed to stay sober for a week, to get into a day treatment centre, then in Earl’s Court. It was on my doorstep, but unlike the residential rehabs where I felt trapped, it felt more me. I didn’t want to be wrapped in cotton wool somewhere remote. This was state-funded – there were no frills or bedside chats by a prominent psychiatrist, and I knew that really was my last chance. Through a lot of work on self and therapy, as well as attending support groups, I have been sober ever since.
But it took soul searching – and deep understanding and honesty about my family dynamics. My parents had already been to a family support group to learn how to support me best – but they weren’t involved in any family therapy. Slowly, I started to learn how to love myself, establish boundaries and accept the fact that one drink will do the damage.
But this is a lifetime’s work. I still have to work on my recovery on a daily basis to stay sober. I go to AA at least once a week.
According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), roughly 48.5 million Americans now struggle with substance misuse, and approximately half are using substances to cope with an underlying mental health condition such as anxiety, depression, and ADHD.
In the UK, there were 329,646 adults aged 18 and over in contact with drug and alcohol treatment services between April 2024 and March 2025, according to government statistics. This is a 6 per cent rise compared to the previous year (310,863) and only reflects those who are lucky enough to find their way to help and support, either through the courts or by securing funding for rehab.
The main issue is that an addict or alcoholic needs to really want recovery – and when you are in the grips of it, the window of opportunity to break free is few and far between.
I got thrown out of a London rehab for creeping out with another inmate for a “night off”, which, as the psychiatrist pointed out, showed the depths of my worrying denial about alcoholism/addiction. This is the issue.
Those like me who have suffered with it are often the last people to realise they have a problem. That’s why, by the time we get to rehab, whether you are living in a hostel or a millionaire’s mansion, it’s a wakeup call way beyond anything money or fame can fix.
Britney is lucky to have the resources to get the best treatment, but it won’t work if she doesn’t do the work. It just takes some hard internal work and honesty, a few chores, learning how to trust others, and becoming an expert in self-awareness. Good luck, Britney – I hope you make it to the other side.
If you are experiencing feelings of distress, or are struggling to cope, you can speak to the Samaritans, in confidence, on 116 123 (UK and ROI), email jo@samaritans.org, or visit the Samaritans website to find details of your nearest branch
If you are based in the USA, and you or someone you know needs mental health assistance right now, call or text 988, or visit 988lifeline.org to access online chat from the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. This is a free, confidential crisis hotline that is available to everyone 24 hours a day, seven days a week. If you are in another country, you can go to www.befrienders.org to find a helpline near you.
