‘When the money ran out, I ended up cleaning the mansion we used to own'

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2 days ago

Nothing brings the country together like football. However gloomy the headlines, there will be no better injection of national joy and pride than if we can see the Lionesses hold aloft the Euros trophy again at the end of the month.
When the team won in 2022, an incredible 17.4 million of us tuned in. That included Belinda Coleman, a mother-of-four from Surrey who has more than a little insight into the beautiful game and the hoopla surrounding it.
'I might not know how the players feel as they walk onto the pitch,' she says with a smile, 'but I know exactly what it's like for their loved ones.'
Because for almost two decades, Coleman had a front row seat to all the money and mayhem, the pleasures and pitfalls of life as a Premier League wife.
The last word that comes to mind when you speak to Coleman, 60, is Wag – a descriptor more suited to the likes of Cheryl Cole, Victoria Beckham and Coleen Rooney in the Noughties. She talks passionately about manifestation and the books of German-born spiritual writer Eckhart Tolle, the joy of collecting pine cones and refurbishing her lovely but modest three-bed home.
Hers is a story of rags to riches and back again, of what happens when the millionaire marriage ends, the money vanishes, and you go from the A-list life to having the bailiffs at your door.
'There were no luxuries in my childhood; it was jumble sales and hand-me-down clothes for me and my brother, Michael. But there was so much love. The important values in our family were loyalty, respect and hard work.'
Her parents' divorce at 14 changed everything. Coleman watched her mother, Brenda, lose her home, saved from a halfway house only by begging the council to help.
By 1991, when she met Chris, then a player with Crystal Palace, Coleman owned a flat of her own and was managing a hotel health club. She wasn't even a football fan when they had their first conversation.
'I'd been invited to a match by a player who'd come to the health club for physiotherapy. The first time I spoke to Chris in the lounge after the match it was so natural. I had no idea this man would change my life forever.'
It was certainly a whirlwind. Six months later they were married. It felt, Coleman says, like a fairy tale, and soon there was the money to match.
'Chris's career began with a gradual climb, as we went from a two-bedroom rental to buying a small house. Then he moved to Blackburn and suddenly there was so much money.'
'We could have anything we wanted. Luxurious holidays, shopping sprees where I could say 'one in every colour', and private schools for our four children. I decorated our lovely home in the country, called the Old Stables, with all the top-of-the-range equipment I could find.'
As for planning for their financial future, it simply didn't happen. 'I look back now and cringe at how financially irresponsible we were. Mum told me to think ahead, to buy a home outright, advice I completely ignored.'
There was, Coleman sees now, a fear and shame of the money that was flooding in. 'I couldn't be sensible about it because I couldn't bear to think about it. There was a lot of guilt at having money when people I loved didn't, so spending it as quickly as I could on myself and others seemed to make sense.'
There was also the pressure to look the part, which came with a price tag. Even before the infamous 2006 invention of the Wag, the scrutiny of Premier League wives and girlfriends was intense and unforgiving.
'It's why we relied on each other,' she explains. 'Nobody in the real world wants to hear your problems when you're driving a Bentley and living in a mansion. Thankfully we had each other.'
There were amazing times together, she explains. The fun of supporting the men at their games, the luxurious trips abroad, the lavish parties and the fun of watching their children grow together.
But there were also lots of troubles to share. 'I've never been jealous or clingy, but women would be falling over our husbands. It took a huge psychological and emotional toll. I'd think, if this is happening in front of my face, what's happening behind my back?'
'As rumours of Chris's infidelity became louder, and the headlines became harder to ignore, the trust between us crumbled. I'd put on this mask of a smiling, capable, resilient wife and mother, trying to pretend everything was OK for my children and for the world. In fact, it felt like I was losing my mind.'
It led Coleman to do things that she wasn't proud of, including hiring a private detective and hiding a tracker in Chris's car.
'In the moment, it felt like I was taking control. In fact, I was creating my own suffering. Chris was unfaithful, but instead of having a frank, honest conversation with him and then making my choice to stay or go, I just fed my own cycle of mistrust.'
As for why the separation and then divorce meant swapping a mansion for a two-bed flat, Coleman is refreshingly frank. 'Despite once having millions, the money had run out. It was my fault too, of course, but suddenly I was facing financial ruin.'
Worse was yet to come. 'I heard banging at the door and, looking through the spyhole, I saw two huge men outside. I realised in horror that they were bailiffs. Paralysed with fear, I didn't dare move, and when they finally left, I collapsed, overwhelmed with shame. I couldn't believe that it had come to this.'
'It was only the beginning of what felt like an unrelenting nightmare. My car was repossessed, and then an eviction notice arrived. We were facing homelessness, and just like Mum before me, I turned to the local authorities to help me.'
Eventually managing to find a private rental she could just about afford, this was the first of 11 forced moves in 10 years for Coleman and the children, Sonny, now 32, Christy 30, Faraday, 27, and Georgie, 25. Initially, it took time to sort out her mutual finances with Chris, and while she eventually received spousal and child maintenance, it did not compare to her previous lifestyle.
'I was grateful each time for a roof over our heads, but life became a huge struggle. I had sleepless nights and panic attacks, intense guilt that, despite being able to keep Georgie in private school for their final year, I was depriving the children of the life they'd become accustomed to.
'One day my card was declined at the supermarket checkout, despite calculating everything in my trolley to the penny. It was so humiliating, struck with the shame and guilt of knowing that I'd squandered so much.'
Hitting rock bottom was a turning point. Coleman took whatever jobs she could fit around the children, working nights, weekends and 12-hour shifts as she brought them up single-handedly.
'I packed boxes for a removal company, worked in a call centre and cleaned. One day in 2016, a year after our divorce was finalised, I drove through the wrought-iron gates of the Old Stables. I was there to clean the house we'd once owned.'
'Standing in this beautiful home, the memories of the happy times came flooding back and it hit me once again how much my life had changed. But I refused to feel sorry for myself. I was alive and had four beautiful children, my friends had stood by me and my family loved me. It was time to roll up my sleeves and get on with things.'
Which she did, until 2019 when, during yet another forced house move, she was packing a book. 'I saw the words, 'Sometimes the universe is just waiting for you to say yes.' It felt like a sign, that if I truly wanted something different in my life, I needed to do something different.'
This was the start of Coleman's journey with manifestation. She says journalling, meditating, visualisation and expressing gratitude daily changed everything – as did a successful legal case.
'On a retreat in Bali, I knew that positivity would turn my life around. On a whim one day, I wrote myself a cheque for the amount I believed was achievable from an ongoing legal dispute, placing it beside my bed and acknowledging it every day. I won that case against the odds, and the money meant I could finally achieve the dream of owning my own home. The house I bought was listed for exactly the amount I'd written on the cheque.'
Now a qualified motivational coach and NLP (neuro-linguistic processing therapy) practitioner, Coleman has written a book about her journey, one she hopes will help other women who are struggling, including other Wags.
'I don't know Coleen Rooney personally, but I watched her documentary, saw her with four children, lost, lonely and struggling in America. I felt her pain, wanted to call her and say, 'I get it 100 per cent'. I know all too well that you can have all the money in the world and still struggle with a situation that feels overwhelming.'
Wags or not, for any woman who feels trapped, Belinda's message is clear. 'Give yourself compassion and forgiveness, and remember that you have the power to make change. If I can do it, anyone can.'
Wag to Warrior, Every Woman's Roadmap to Overcoming Life's Challenges and Rewriting Her Story, by Belinda Coleman (£14.99, Inspired By Publishing), is available on Amazon now.
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