The day my husband asked if I was having an affair nearly broke my heart. Sitting in the garden on a beautiful early summer’s evening, Gareth very calmly came out with it: ‘Are you seeing someone else?‘You’re always on your phone and seem really disconnected. I can’t think of anything else it could be…’‘Don’t be daft,’ I replied. ‘I’m just really busy with work and emails. I have to reply to all of them immediately.’As the co-founder of a business that was taking off in a major way, my answer was entirely plausible. And yet it was a lie. Because, while I made light of his comment, I was leading a double life, although I wasn’t cheating on him.The truth was that, aged 41, I was in the grip of a secret gambling addiction, one that saw me blow £40,000 in 15 months, spending up to eight hours a day on gambling apps on my phone.Yet to the outside world I had it all: A loving husband, three perfect children, not to mention a career many people only dream of.Before having children, I’d worked as a civil servant, but then my friend Kelli – who I’d met through our children’s nursery – and I came up with the idea for Solar Buddies, which we launched in 2015.We created a child-friendly suncream applicator that meant kids could apply it themselves at school, as teachers have ‘no-touch’ policies for safeguarding reasons. The day my husband asked if I was having an affair nearly broke my heart, writes businesswoman and mother Laura WatersIn April 2023 we’d appeared on Dragon’s Den and successfully secured an £80,000 investment in the business from Peter Jones and Deborah Meaden. In return, each had a 10 per cent stake.It was a pinch-me moment. But a month later I started using gambling apps. And three months after that I was addicted.Amid all the success, the spring of 2023 was a stressful time.One of my children was having difficulties at school and Solar Buddies was growing so fast it was overwhelming.Overnight, we went from being a team of four to needing 16 staff to meet demand. It was amazing to have that level of success, but also daunting in its suddenness.The first sign I was struggling came in May that year, when Gareth and I went to a charity fundraising event for Cardiff University Hospital.Wanting to take my mind off everything, by the end of the evening I’d drunk nearly three bottles of wine, where normally I’d only share one with him.After dinner, the charity auction began – and there was no stopping me.Usually I’m extremely careful with money, but I kept sticking my hand up, half-joking, compulsively bidding more and more.I ended up paying £13,000 for a two-day holiday to St Tropez that didn’t even include flights.Worse, when I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, I had no memory of bidding.When Gareth told me I’d blown £13,000, I was horrified.But my son, then 12, had been looked after by the hospital when he was ten days old and seriously ill with bronchial pneumonia so I tried to convince myself that the donation was a small price to pay for saving his life.Deep down though I knew it was a sign that I was spiralling out of control.And as successful as the business was, I couldn’t afford to do that again.It was later that month, feeling bored one evening, that I downloaded a gambling app on my phone after seeing an advert on Facebook.Sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate, I thought, ‘This is fun!’ It cost me just £10 and seemed to be a harmless distraction.Ironically, a friend’s partner had been addicted to gambling and I once made the flippant comment to her: ‘I don’t understand why he can’t just stop.’ Well, that throwaway remark came back to haunt me.I’d never had any issues with addiction previously. But the gambling apps gave me a mental release.Like the casino slot machines you find in a pub, you hit the spin button and hope for a row of symbols to line up. It’s tantalising because you can see if just one cherry or bell is out of line, which encourages you to try again.And the thrill you get when you have a little win sets off a dopamine hit in your brain. I remember thinking: ‘This is great because it’s the only thing I’m focusing on now, so it’s stopped me being consumed by all the other noise in my head.’I downloaded two apps to start with and decided on a spend limit of £20 on each, which seemed sensible.And at first, when I reached my limit, I could easily stop playing. itting in the garden on a beautiful early summer’s evening, Gareth very calmly came out with it: ‘Are you seeing someone else?I would put my phone down then help the kids with their homework, watch a film with them or do housework. But then I began to increase my limits to £200 on some apps and ‘unlimited’ on others for short bursts of 24 hours at a time. Many of the apps have built-in safety features where it takes 24 or 48 hours to approve your new limit, so over the next couple of weeks I began downloading more and more apps so I could gamble while my new limits were approved.I kept getting text messages and emails from the apps, too, saying things like, ‘If you deposit £150, we’ll match it’ or ‘If you deposit £10, you’ll get 10 free spins.’ It compels you to keep going.Very quickly, what had been a harmless distraction turned into something darker.Sometimes I’d stay awake until 4am because I couldn’t stop gambling.I’d wait until Gareth had dropped off to sleep, then get my phone out, turn the brightness down and go back on the apps. I would eventually drop off, then wake up four hours later feeling angry with myself.I’d go to work exhausted, then start gambling again at my desk at 8am.When my colleagues asked why I looked so tired, I pretended I had insomnia. No one had any idea what I’d really been up to.To justify my behaviour, I began buying my children expensive gifts.I remember my son asking for £150 trainers and I said ‘yes’ straight away, whereas normally I’d never agree to that.That night, I gambled away £150 and told myself: ‘If I can still afford to buy my kids whatever they want, then I’m ok to spend money on gambling.’Within a year I’d downloaded 40 apps.It made my head spin trying to keep up with the different spend limits on all of them – some were £20 a day, others were £200.By that point, I was playing for five or six hours at a time and up to eight hours a day.I’d be cooking dinner with one hand and on an app with the other. At work, I even began to hide in the toilet to gamble. No one would ask me questions if I was in there.I started to feel very lonely, like I was living in two different worlds – being a mum, a wife and running a successful business in one world, then feeling snappy and agitated in the gambling world.And I was filled with guilt about all the money I was losing.The buzz when I won made it all worthwhile for five minutes... until I gambled the money away again, then the guilt and anger set in.In 15 months, I blew a total of £40,000 on gambling apps. £20,000 of that was my hard-earned savings – which was meant to be for my children’s future.The other £20,000 was money from my monthly salary. The most I lost in one go was £2,000 in two hours. It made me feel sick.Because Gareth and I have separate bank accounts as well as our joint one, he never saw how much money I was losing.Thankfully, he has his own website design company so his earnings weren’t affected by my losses.But gambling took over my family life, my work, my social life and it took its toll on my mental health too.I felt constantly stressed, guilty and emotionally strung-out. All I could think about was the money I’d lost and the compulsion to keep playing. Yet at first, I was in denial that I had a gambling problem. It took a whole year for me to finally admit it to myself.Gareth and I used to have a strict rule that our phones would always be put away by 9pm, then we’d watch TV together – but now as soon as the adverts came on, I’d be back on my phone.I began snapping at him over silly little things, such as leaving his mug out on the side when normally I’d never be bothered.No wonder by the spring of 2024 he asked me if I was having an affair.When the kids came home from school and wanted to tell me about their day, or ask for help with homework, I was constantly saying: ‘In a minute…’I’ll never forget the day when my son came into the living room and said: ‘Mum, what time are we having tea?’ I suddenly realised it was 8pm and I’d been sat gambling for four hours.As for my friendships? Normally I’m very sociable and have at least two big evenings out a month.But while at first I played on the apps while I was with my group of friends in the pub, then I stopped going out completely. No one even questioned where I was. They probably assumed I was busy working.But I wish one of my friends had asked me if I was OK. It might have prompted me to open up. I think people are too quick to assume that outwardly successful and capable women, those with good careers and loving families, have everything ‘sorted’ and don’t need anyone’s help. When in fact, as in my case, the truth can be very different. People shouldn’t feel ashamed of their addiction; it’s brave to ask for help. I hope my story will inspire other gambling addicts to get the support they need tooBecause while gambling is traditionally seen as a ‘male’ problem, female gambling addiction has soared in recent years. Between 2015 and 2020, the number of women seeking treatment doubled – with the rise believed to be fuelled by easy access to apps like the ones I used.I was plagued by phone calls from app salesmen. They spoke to me cheerily as if they were my friend, telling me I was a ‘VIP customer’.They were so friendly and upbeat, saying they’d put ‘exclusive offers’ into my account, like free spins and extra bonuses of £10.Inevitably, my performance at work began to suffer. Kelli had to keep chasing me up to get things done.She bore the brunt of my addiction, but she didn’t once complain.I did start to confide in her once, saying, ‘I think I have a gambling addiction’ – but then I immediately made out it was a joke and closed up again. She took my word for it, though deep down she knew something was wrong.The only brief respite was a week’s family holiday to Turkey in July 2024.At first, I panicked when I found I couldn’t access any of my gambling apps abroad.But I ended up reconnecting with my family and briefly became my usual self again.Yet the moment we got in the car to drive home from the airport, I was straight back on it.Eventually it all came to a head.Back in December 2023 I’d been to a work event and got talking to a guest who happened to confide that he’d once had a gambling problem and been cured through hypnotherapy.I ended up confessing my own problem to him and asking for the hypnotist’s number – but I was still in denial, so it took me another seven months to call it. If I hadn’t spoken to that guest, I dread to think where I’d be now.Finally, one evening in July 2024 shortly after returning from holiday I realised enough was enough.At 7.30pm that day, I lost £500 in one go and I said out loud to myself: ‘This has got to stop.’ By 8pm, I was texting the hypnotherapist asking for help.She messaged me straight back and insisted I had to tell my husband first, before I even met her.I sat Gareth down that evening and told him everything.He was relieved to hear I hadn’t remortgaged the house or taken out loans, but I told him all my savings had gone.He had every right to be furious with me – for lying, for losing so much of our money – but he was wonderful about it. I wish I’d been brave enough to tell him sooner.The £150 I subsequently spent on a hypnotherapy session was the best £150 I’ve ever spent. Just one session completely changed my mindset.The hypnotist asked me to think of all the things I hate the smell of. I said bleach and parmesan cheese.She put me into a state of deep relaxation and convinced me if I even thought about going on a gambling app, the stench of those smells would hit me.I walked out of the session and for the first time in 15 months I didn’t even think about going on them. It was so strange.The next day I woke up and again, the idea of logging on just wasn’t appealing, as it reminded me of those awful smells.Shortly after, I confessed to Kelli and she was a huge support. I have now apologised to everyone involved and I’ve got my finances back on track.What upsets me most is how much precious time I lost with my family.Since my recovery, I’ve bought a caravan in Barry Island, South Wales, and we’ve had some lovely quality time there. It’s my way of trying to make it up to everyone.I’m ready to be honest about my addiction now.At 43, I accept full blame for what I did. No one made me do it, but I do think the gambling apps hold some responsibility too.A few times, I went on my banking app and froze my card, but still the gambling apps let me transfer money from my current account to keep playing.And while there are some safety features, in practice they’re limited.At one point, I hit the ‘self-exclude’ button on one of the apps, where you opt out of playing for six months.To get back on you need to be interviewed about why you stopped playing and why you’re safe to rejoin. I made up a lie about how I had controlling parents who’d insisted I get off the app.The saleswoman sympathised with me, then immediately let me back on, no further questions asked.I also realise just how fortunate I am that I had the income to absorb my huge losses, although it was still painful.People shouldn’t feel ashamed of their addiction; it’s brave to ask for help. I hope reading my story will inspire other gambling addicts to get the support they need too.For support contact the National Gambling Helpline on 0808 8020 133 run by GamCareAS TOLD TO EMMA ELMS