Hear Me Out

by Sarah Harding

  I was already chain-smoking with all the nervous energy I had in there, so maybe shed-loads of coffee wasn’t ideal. Still, all I could think about was how exhausted I was, trying to bang out my bloody life story at midnight and beyond. The upshot was that Amelia was hiding coffee all over the place and sharing it out with those in the know, like some rich-roast drug dealer. Once again, yours truly was the one bringing it up at the next house meeting.

  By then, I was quite discouraged, and, stupidly, I started to get romantically attached to somebody at the facility. I guess it was something similar to the Florence Nightingale syndrome. That’s where a patient falls in love with their doctor or nurse due to the bond created between them, even though they’re complete strangers.

  In my case, it was another resident at the facility; a guy I thought I could help, or perhaps we thought we could help one another. Neither of the above turned out to be true. Due to our circumstances, a closeness developed between us. It’s a psychological thing, really, rather than anything real. We were going through a shared experience in close quarters, day after day. I’m sure it’s not the first time something like that has happened in a rehab facility, but I wish I could have seen it for what it was. We ended up leaving the facility together, and before I knew it I was back in the Four Seasons. After that, he flew back to London with me. Theo was Dutch, and was actually in recovery for addiction – much more serious than I’d previously been exposed to. In fact, once I saw him break down, I got a glimpse of something I never want to be around again. He changed completely from the guy I thought I knew, and it freaked me out.

  The fight that left me black and blue with a suspected arm fracture was well-documented in the press. We’d been on a skiing holiday in Austria over Christmas and New Year, but we weren’t getting on. We’d both fallen off the wagon and had a few drinks because it was Christmas. I knew in my heart that we weren’t right for one another, so decided it was best to cut the trip short, for my own sake as well as his. I left to catch a flight home, leaving Theo to his own devices. While I was at the airport, I had a gin and tonic – just one – but then my flight home was cancelled. I had to go back to the hotel and face him.

  When I arrived back, Theo refused to help me with my cases, and I think he’d been drinking. He became abusive and cruel, calling me a B-class singer and telling me I had no friends. He was basically throwing all my insecurities at me, so in return, I threw a cup, which missed. What can I say, I’m a thrower. It’s what I do when I get angry, I throw things. I’ll admit I lost it, and I’m not proud of that, but he was brutally goading me, and God was I fragile!

  The scene that followed was monumental. While I struggled, Theo had me by the neck, on the floor, so I kicked him to get him off me. After that, it escalated into a full-scale fight. It was horrible. My head smashed on the floor, my arm shut in the bathroom door, and blood smeared my face. I screamed for help, but with the sound of celebratory New Year’s Eve fireworks going off everywhere, nobody heard me. It culminated in me being forced outside and down the stairs.

  Despite his addictions, Theo had been such a nice guy when we met. I mistakenly thought our shared experience could be a bond and that we could help one another, but it turned out to be the opposite. Still, I never imagined he could be capable of something like that.

  In the end, a Swedish couple found me, hysterically crying, lying in the courtyard: dazed, bloody and bruised. They took me into their room, and I asked them to call the police.

  When the police took me to the hospital, I kept asking them why they hadn’t arrested Theo after what he’d done. They said I had more chance of pressing charges if I went to the hospital, and he’d also told them that it was me who’d attacked him. This is what he told the press too, that he has never been involved in a fight and was just trying to restrain me because I was attacking him. He said that I was the violent one, that I’d thrown an ashtray that had blackened his eye. He also spoke about me having done a lot of kick-boxing in the past. I certainly didn’t get the chance to do any kick-boxing that night. I was too busy trying to defend myself.

  I couldn’t believe the mess I’d got myself into with Theo, but all I wanted now was to be safe and back at home. At the end of this whole period, I realised that I was still desperately sad about my break-up with Tommy. I’d done all this stuff to get over him: drinking, partying, then trying to get clean and going to rehab, before getting involved with someone completely unsuitable. It was a mess. The whole thing was a mess, and the lowest point of my life.

  The truth was, I was all over the place – broken because I missed Tommy so much.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  These days, I am more in control of what was once my addiction. I am having a glass of wine or two during all this, because it helps me relax. I’m sure some people might think that’s not a great idea, but I want to try to enjoy my life. I’m at a stage now where I don’t know how many months I have left. If something kills me now, it’s certainly not going to be a glass of wine.

  I want this Christmas to mean something and to feel special. Even the tree has to be amazing. The trouble is, everyone seems to have gone Christmas crazy this year – and extra early – so there’s not much left. I suppose that’s because of Covid and the lockdown. This year has been so unbelievably awful for everyone, I guess we’re all just desperate to celebrate something, or at least have something to look forward to. I don’t ever remember a time when Christmas felt more important. It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to worry that if I don’t get something sorted fast, tree-wise, I’ll end up with a twig, a fairy, and a couple of baubles. If I can, I want something eight to ten feet tall – something incredibly fabulous.

  Christmas is extra special to me this year because last week my doctor told me that it will probably be my last. Who knows, maybe I’ll surprise everyone, but for now, that’s how I’m looking at things. I don’t want an exact prognosis. I don’t know why anyone would want that. Comfort and being as pain-free as possible is what’s important to me now. Silly little things make me happy: my lie-ins, watching Family Guy on TV through the night when I can’t sleep, roasting a chicken for Mum and me on a Sunday, if I’m feeling up to it.

  Still, I’m trying to be realistic, however hard that may be. It’s for that reason that I’m trying to live and enjoy every second of my life, however long it might be. So, yes, a great big Christmas tree.

  I have always loved songwriting and creating music. During the recording session for our second album, What Will the Neighbours Say?, we’d all got to co-write separate songs with the producers. It was an excellent way for us to get more into songwriting, and I jumped at the chance. The idea was that the tracks would be great to have for bonus tracks and B-sides for our subsequent single releases. My composition, ‘Hear Me Out’, was one of the tracks that ended up going on to the album, which made me very proud. I’d written the lyric about the break-out relationship with Mikey and it included my favourite lines, ‘no more dramas/smeared mascara on my pillow’. While I was thinking about titles for the book, that song came to mind, as the title kind of summed up what I wanted to say.

  I’ve written a lot of stuff over the years, with various great writers. A lot of it is yet unheard, which is a shame. I even wrote quite a lot of songs for a solo project, with the producers at Xenomania. However, that was right before I decided to take myself off to rehab, so I had to put my solo project on ice. Once I was out of rehab, I found it hard to move forward with my own projects. Let me put it another way: the way I was portrayed in the media, and the general perception of me, made it hard for me to move forward with it. I guess I’d come back wanting a fresh start, but wherever I turned I got the feeling that people were thinking, Ooh, hasn’t she just come out of rehab? Perhaps we should steer well clear. Surely if someone puts themselves through recovery, it should be seen as a positive step rather than a negative one. It’s someone who’s asking for help and wants to move forward, rather than a person who is g
iving up and wallowing. There seemed to be a real stigma attached to the fact that I was fresh out of rehab. I felt a bit stuck, unable to move forward.

  Unfortunately, once Hillary and I parted ways, I had a run of managers who weren’t right for me at all and just seemed to see me as a meal ticket. While I was with Hills, I’d worked with some good writers, but some of the people who looked after me afterwards just wanted their percentage and didn’t really help me in any way. I ended up doing some shitty jobs in shitty places. When I look back now, I realise that these weren’t gigs that someone who’d achieved all the things that I had should be undertaking. The problem was, I was vulnerable. I felt like I had to be grateful and say yes to something, even when in my heart I knew I was worth more. I suppose I was trying to people-please. Maybe I thought that because I’d screwed up I had to take whatever was thrown at me. So I ended up working with a few people who didn’t really know what they were doing.

  After a few wrong moves, I put my faith in CAA (Creative Artists Agency). I knew they would look after me.

  I have got to experience and appear on some pretty iconic TV shows in the last four or five years – some more successful than others.

  My experience on MasterChef wasn’t the best. It was the timing element that threw me. I’d always loved watching the show, and I love cooking, and I’m quite methodical about it. In my cupboards, I have a baking shelf, I’ve got a shelf for herbs and spices, and all my pots and pans are in specific places. I’m very anal about where everything goes in my kitchen.

  I’m also a girl who likes to take her time when preparing a meal, sampling as I sip a glass of wine. Food seems to have become more like art on a plate these days, whereas I specialise in comfort food. For me, cooking is a leisurely pursuit, rather than a mad dash to finish, which is where I fell down on the show. The one thing I didn’t have going for me was time. In fact, I ended up re-naming the show ManicChef because that’s what it felt like. I just went blank during the tasks; I couldn’t think what to do next.

  When I did the Channel 4 skiing show, The Jump, I threw myself into it like a bull in a china shop. I’d been on a few skiing trips with friends in the past, and I guess you could say I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. I was certainly up for the challenge, that’s for sure. Before the series started, I had a couple of assessments to see how well I fared, and I was just happy that I didn’t fall over. Still, as the show goes on, there are all sorts of different techniques and elements to learn, none of which I’d done before. It was quite a tall order and not always easy.

  My biggest accomplishment on the show was to beat James ‘Arg’ Argent on the snocross, where I fell over so many times. Towards the finish line, I fell down again and saw him coming up behind me. I remember thinking, there’s no way I’m letting Arg from The Only Way is Essex beat me. So, I literally bum-shuffled across the finish line!

  During the course of the show, I felt my knee go during jump training. Looking back, I should have been more cautious, but I so wanted to do the show. After seeing the physiotherapist, I decided to soldier on, despite the discomfort. When my knee went for the second time during training, I necked a couple of painkillers and got on with it. I’d done the medium-sized jumps, and I was determined to do the big jump. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be. By week five of the show, I had to pull out with a torn ligament. I ended up having major physiotherapy for about six months, completely out of action. But hey, I reached the semi-final, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

  It was tough because I couldn’t work after being injured and it’s not like there’s much sick pay to be had when you’re in the entertainment industry. I know I’ve been lucky, having worked all my adult life, but that’s one of the things that’s so upsetting to see during the Covid-19 pandemic, while the country has been in lockdown. While many people are on furlough, or claiming government subsidies, there are so many people who work in theatres and music who are struggling massively. The industry has almost completely shut down, with nothing open for months on end.

  The TV show Tumble, in 2014, had been another physical challenge for me. This was a show where celebrities took part in gymnastics, with a judging panel of professional gymnasts and a weekly public vote. I appeared on the show alongside Dynasty actress Emma Samms, actor John Partridge and the lovely Ian ‘H’ Watkins from Steps, among others. The training was relentless and pretty gruelling, with eight hours training a day, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. It really appealed to my sense of adventure and my love of learning new skills, and, once again, I was keen to show people a different side to me. ‘H’ and I proudly ended up as joint runners-up, beaten by actor Bobby Lockwood.

  I also nearly made the running for a big TV judging gig. In 2011, when Cheryl and Simon Cowell went to America to work on the US version of The X Factor, I was asked if I wanted to meet the show’s producers with a view to becoming a judge on the UK version. I was on a skiing holiday in Val d’Isère in the French Alps at the time, staying in a big, beautiful chalet with Tommy and all his family. On the evening I got the call to fly back for the big meeting, we’d all been watching William and Kate’s wedding on TV. This was the meeting that would help the producers decide between me and a couple of other contenders, including Tulisa and Mel B.

  I arrived at Syco TV headquarters, which is in the Sony building, all ready to put my best foot forward, but there was a slight snag. I was brunette at the time, and I’d already been for a few meetings with the producers. Word had come back that Simon was a fan of my blonde-haired image, so Hillary asked our hairdresser to put a blonde wig on me for the meeting. During the discussions, they asked me all sorts of questions, including what I thought might improve the show, and what I thought might be my judging style and mentoring strengths. I wasn’t convinced I had the right temperament for it, to be honest. I mean, I can barely sit still for five minutes, and I knew how long and gruelling those filming days and nights could be. Looking back, I wonder what would have come of it.

  As everyone knows, Tulisa ended up getting the job, but it was nice to have been in the running. The funny thing is, I never really spoke to Cheryl about it because, for some reason, I felt a bit awkward about it, like I was after her job or something. Of course, that wasn’t the case. She had chosen to leave the show, and they needed a new judge. I guess at that time we’d grown apart somewhat. It was during our three-year Girls Aloud hiatus, which was dragging on, and the distance between us seemed immense, I didn’t feel like I could really talk to her like I had in the past. I’m so happy that isn’t the case any more. I’ve always admired Cheryl because she’s got gusto. She loves her fans, and she loves people, but she also can say ‘no’ when she needs to. She can be as charming as the day is long, but if she thinks something isn’t right, she’ll say so. I guess that’s why Cheryl, along with Kimberley, were kind of the spokeswomen for the band. They’re both very no-nonsense.

  Cheryl has been so supportive during the past few months, and we talk a lot. In the early years of Girls Aloud we were very close, so it feels nice to have that back again.

  Celebrity Big Brother was, for me, a disaster waiting to happen. When I try to think back about the reasons I agreed to do the show, I guess I thought it could be a good platform for me to maybe get back in the public eye in a positive way. Yes, I knew there were going to be a few tricky characters in the house with me – there always were on the show – but I felt like I had something to prove, not just to other people but to myself, too. I wanted to prove I could do it. I also went in there intending to show people a different side of me. I’d always been portrayed in the media as this mad, off-the-rails party girl. There may have been some truth to that in the past, but not at that point. It’s not the sum of me and never has been. ‘Hardcore Harding’ is my caricature. She’s a distorted exaggeration that I helped create as a way of fitting in, and of finding my place. Maybe this was a way for people to see a more complete picture. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Famous last words!

/>   I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, and sometimes I forget myself and say too much. I like to think the best of people, and I try hard to please, but in doing that, I’ve sometimes tied myself in knots, and ended up fucking up, or making a bad situation worse. I think my need to people-please goes back to when my dad left home when I was 16. It was a tough time; my mum and I had moved up north, and I had to get to know a whole new set of people, right in the middle of my GCSE exams. When you’re living with a group of strangers under close scrutiny, it’s hard to be your true self or to please everyone. This is especially true when, all around you, people are trying to throw you off guard or wind you up. It is a competition, after all.

  Having watched Big Brother and the celebrity version for years made the walk into that house seem completely surreal. I had such an incredible mix of feelings: fear, excitement, apprehension. I literately didn’t know whether I was going to laugh or burst into tears, I was so overwhelmed. The one thing I do remember, as I made my grand entrance through the crowd towards the house, was the fear that I was going to end up being a puppet on a string. Dancing to somebody else’s tune rather than my own. As it turned out, that’s precisely what happened. I was easily manipulated. Unlike some of the other contestants, I didn’t go into the house with a plan or much of an objective. When you look at the contestants in any Celebrity Big Brother, there are always some who are less well known than others, which sometimes means that the stakes are higher for them. They might have more to gain by being on TV every night for weeks on end. I certainly didn’t go on the show looking for fame. I wanted to enjoy the experience. I wanted to have fun, be as open as I could and show people the real Sarah Harding. So, as always, I wore my heart on my sleeve.

  In the end, this approach didn’t do me any favours, and I’m not sure it changed anyone’s perception of me either. Still, it certainly gave the show’s producers the juicy TV they were looking for. I guess that’s what Big Brother is all about. The format is tried and tested, and it works. What I learned was that however determined you are to not get swept up in all the bitchiness and mind-games, you still get sucked in. It’s unavoidable. The house is a bubble; a society away from society. Once you’re inside, you are so cut off from the outside world, that things that wouldn’t usually be important are suddenly hugely exaggerated.