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I grew up very anti-drugs, frightened by the cautionary tales of addiction told in my middle-class home.

But during my first year of University, some decades ago, on a dance floor of some grotty nightclub, a new friend - who I thought was cool and edgy - got a little bag of cocaine out of her handbag.

I don't know what came over me, but I tried the white powder when she offered - and much to my surprise, loved it.

I didn't want the fun to end that night, and for years, it didn't. Every weekend was a blur of drugs and drinking, cocaine, mushrooms, ecstasy, all washed down with vodka and tonics or bottles of prosecco.

I'd endure my job as a marketing officer in the City from Monday to Friday in a tired daze. I didn't care for it anyway, and had only taken the role so I could move to London and be near that friend - my constant source of debauched fun.

But my wild days of abandonment all but stopped when I met my husband.

As soon as we got married nine years ago, we started trying to get pregnant. I wanted to be a mother so much that I immediately cut out all the alcohol and drugs.

When I finally got pregnant for the first time I was thrilled. I loved maternity leave and spending every moment with my son.

'I grew up very anti-drugs, frightened by the cautionary tales of addiction told in my middle class home,' said the mother-of-two (stock photo)

But at 42, with my little boy now aged seven, and a daughter who's four, my husband and I have parted ways and are in the middle of getting divorced.

He isn't the man I married and he has always hated me going out. I couldn't live my life like that.

While I love being a mother, I felt I needed to claw back some of my old, fun self. I didn't want my entire identity to revolve around being a mum, with a career that didn’t exactly fulfill me.

And that edgy and cool friend, who first introduced me to drugs all those years ago? Well, she's still very much in my life. She doesn't have children, or a partner, and so I now see her when I need to let loose.

We've upgraded the cheap fizz to champagne and still rely on the Class A drug - and now, MDMA - to enjoy our night.

Sometimes it revives me as much as heading to a spa, but I admit, my situation is starting to spiral.

My ex-husband and I are friends, sort of, and we share custody of the two children 50/50, which means that all I really do now when I don't have them is party. My divorce has given me the opportunity to relive my university years all over again.

Sometimes, I'll even indulge my secret drug habit during a night-in, chain-smoking and necking a bottle of wine. And while it might feel good at the time, in the stark reality of the morning, I realise it's not exactly how I imagined my life would turn out.

It makes me feel sad and lonely, and occasionally, although I'm ashamed to admit it, when my ex drops the children back at mine, I'm like a shell - vacuous and hungover and unable to speak.

But I blame the alcohol just as much as the drugs.

I know it's not fair on the children. Me prioritising a good time when they're not around means I'm not always full present when I'm with them, I can admit that.

Yet who is these days? I console myself when I see other mothers glued to their phones, ignoring their children. I never get lost in my phone when I'm with them. I'd get rid of my phone if I could.

Of course, there’s also the fact that I keep this secret. My ex-husband doesn’t know. None of my family know, either.

One time, I went for a wine with one of my parent mates. I can’t remember how we got on to the subject but she asked if I’d ever tried drugs. I said yes and she looked so horrified that I played it down. Made it seem as if it was a stupid mistake from my youth.

Most of the other mothers at school I don’t socialise with anyway, they give off judgey 'I'm better than you' vibes - despite all of are very similar middle class standings, they act like they're part of upper class society.

But I wish I could be more honest about how I decide to unwind. Yes, I regret that I'm not always 100 per cent present for my children - and that it leaves me as a shell of myself sometimes - but I know they all drink.

They'll laugh about being hungover, knock back fizz at the children's parties. I've seen some of them in a worse state than I ever am. Why can't they see the hypocrisy? Maybe, in an ideal world, everyone would neither drink nor take any kind of drugs.

Perhaps there will be a dark moment, a point of no return, when I give up both, but I've not found it yet. I can love my children, and still want to cling to my independence, however that looks.

I can indulge in my habit on the sofa when I'm alone and sit on that same sofa, cuddle up with my children and watch a film. I don't think it makes me a bad mother.

I’d never take drugs in front of them – but I do have a glass of wine and somehow society sees that as okay.

I wish that a glass of wine to unwind at the end of the day wasn’t so normalised – that’s what gives those playground mums their sense of superiority.

*Identifying details have been changed