I’ve led until recently  a reasonably unexciting life. Sharing in the success radiated by my likeable stockbroker husband I was considered respectable and well-intentioned, if not entirely satisfied with my subordinate position. I have not, to my knowledge, ever been considered desperate, nor in any sense a victim. Now, I visit a distorted reality as I peer into the looking glass version of my once relatively happy self.

To explain what happened I’ll have to start at the beginning.