He's fighting his way slowly back from the brink of despair Richard Ford stepped out of the taxi and walked through the entrance of Saint Hill Manor, the Church of Scientology's UK headquarters.

It was a warm day as he walked up the drive carrying a bag which contained a change of clothing and a single £10 note.

Richard had been a cult member before but had been expelled. Now he had been asked to rejoin and he looked on the day as a fresh start and an opportunity to prove himself.

About seven months later he walked down the same drive a broken man.

During his time with the Church of Scientology, Richard lost his possessions, had become so ill he had suffered premature hair loss and was so depressed he considered suicide.

Since leaving the cult in 1995, he has been slowly rebuilding his life and now hopes to help others who want to leave the Scientologists' clutches.

Richard was a happy, if directionless, salesman when a friend first suggested he meet with the cult's members in London in 1993.

He said: "Like most of the people who join cults, I was a bit rootless at the time. I was simply approached by a friend who wanted me to go along to one of the Scientologists' centres in London.

"I did a personality test and got very negative results. I wasn't too sold on that because I knew what it was intended to do. In return for taking the test I bought a book and was given a free auditing session."

Auditing is the process where Scientologists are put into a trance-like state and relive past traumas, repeatedly going over the events until they feel cheerful about them.

Ex-Scientologist Bonnie Woods, who lives in Sycamore Drive, East Grinstead, said auditing is the beginning of the cult's "Bridge to Total Freedom" which takes years and costs in the region of £200,000.

Richard said: "I went out walking on air, feeling wonderful and thought I would like to learn to help other people feel like this."

Richard went to another session and felt the effects of Scientology were so beneficial he asked to become a member of the cult's staff. It took 24 hours for them to accept him and for his life to be turned completely on its head.

"They separate you from all outside influence and blast you with auditing and get a commitment from you and get you to sign a contract."

The correct term for this separation is "disconnection" according to the Scientologists' literature. It involves ending all contact with family members who voice "persistent opposition" to the cult.

Although Richard was told he would make around £200 a week while working for the Scientologists in London, for many weeks he was paid nothing or just a few pounds.

"I signed a five-year contract and that was the slippery slope. I was quoted various things about how I would be earning £200 a week when in fact in the first week I got nothing, £3.20 for the second week. For months on end you weren't paid anything at all. By that time you lose your ability to reason critically.

"I was invited into the London group and that continued for slightly less than a year. During that time my health was going down quite badly because I wasn't eating properly because of no money.

"I had to move address a couple of times in the middle of the night for not paying my rent. I was working and not sleeping very much. I worked 60 hours a week at the London group. I worked at McDonald's to make ends meet and was eating their food and nothing else."

In the mid-Nineties, the British arm of the Church of Scientology was plunged into crisis due to a decline in membership and a lack of people successfully completing their courses.

Richard said: "There was a condition of danger declared. It means if the statistics of any Scientology group are declining rapidly enough, a senior body can declare a condition of danger and can directly intervene in affairs and carry out a purge.

"A bunch of Americans went through my ethics file which I happened to see on a desk. It was slightly thinner than a phone directory and God knows what was in there. Every Scientologist has an ethics file, even if they just reply to an advertisement."

Richard was told to spend four months away from the cult. During this time he experienced a mixture of relief and a sense of failure at his dismissal.

His fragile state of mind meant when the Scientologists phoned him in early 1995, he agreed to join as a member of staff at Saint Hill Manor outside East Grinstead.

"I went to Saint Hill in early 1995 to be trained full time, which was a rare privilege.

"It was probably one of the worst times because the condition of danger meant more punishment, including people going on the rehabilitation project course, a punishment camp, although I wasn't on it myself.

"You had to work and you didn't get much sleep. You had to confess your sins all the time. It was an absolutely crazy, authoritarian atmosphere.

"I would have loved it if the police moved in and let us all go. I'm sure almost all of us, even top people doing the shouting, would have breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Nightmares are not allowed so you have to fight against them which involves more conflict and all this pressure. I developed ulcers and my hair started falling out and I became suicidal. I had to leave."

But leaving the cult was not easy. He was taken to see a senior member of staff where abuse was screamed at him.

"They gave me some security checking and lots of vitamins which made me feel very strange and I entered in a very dreamlike state, not quite having hallucinations but I couldn't tell between your thoughts and reality.

"I went into a very passive state, I felt I had committed overts (bad acts) and was going to find out what they are.

"Scientologists live for the auditing and I was audited free of charge. I went to past lives and got into a very, very strange but euphoric state. I wrote up lots and lots of confessions and was video taped while this was going on but I was allowed home.

"Then I decided to get a life for myself - I was still a mess."

Richard, now 37, is philosophical about his time spent with the cult:

"When I left I had nothing, I had debts of about £2,000. I felt 'how come an intelligent person like me fell for something so stupid?' "Why did I believe all those things so contrary to common sense? I'm still coming to terms with it."

Richard has set up a helpline called Leaving Scientology to help other people who have left or are considering leaving the cult.

He can be called in confidence on 01375 384378.

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