"I come from a working-class, loving family in Boulogne-sur-Mer [Pas-de-Calais, northern France]. I had a happy childhood, surrounded by my brothers and sisters; my mother, who looked after us at home; and my father, a driver in a navy foundry. Love was everywhere.

As a child, I was a dreamer and a good boy, like my father. The year I turned 15, he fell ill and I lost the carefree spirit of childhood. Times were hard, including financially. The atmosphere became stifling. I left to study graphic arts, with the anxiety of possibly losing my father and the guilt of costing my family money. I met my future wife and married her at the age of 20 with her parents' consent at the time. She was not of legal age and had to get permission.

Our daughter was born, and I found a job in a publishing house in Trappes, on the outskirts of Paris. In my department, we celebrated everything: birthdays, holidays and births. And even when there was nothing to celebrate, we celebrated. It was an open bar.

In 1976, I decided to set up my own company and go into advertising. It didn't take long for my business to take off. I had big clients. I sailed from one cocktail party to the next, always with a high alcohol content. Success went to my head. My wife told me I drank a lot.

We had a very rich social life. We entertained a lot and went out to restaurants and on weekend getaways. Then one day, all the apartments in our building went up for sale, and all the tenants became homeowners at the same time. I became president of the homeowners' association, which gave me the opportunity to organize festive get-togethers with the other owners.

With my job, our lifestyle changed. I bought designer suits for myself, fur coats for my wife. We didn't deny ourselves anything. My company was expanding at breakneck speed, things were getting out of hand. I lost control. The only rest I got was after a few drinks, when my mind floated in a mild euphoria. More and more often, I felt the need to return to this state.

One day, my accountant suddenly told me that the company was in a catastrophic financial situation, which I hadn't seen coming at all. It was a debacle. We had to file for bankruptcy. I started drinking every day – whisky, wine, beer – to take my mind off things. The company went into receivership and I was a zombie.

Alcohol was omnipresent. I thought about it all the time. My life became a constant battle against myself: resist, then give in. Constantly. I hid alcohol everywhere: in the garage, in my riding boots. My hands shook so much I could hardly hold my first glass of beer in the morning. I held jobs for short periods of time but couldn't keep them. My wife and daughter were unhappy.

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