Ruth Langsford has told how she turned to therapy to cope with her acrimonious split from husband Eamonn Holmes.

The Loose Women presenter revealed her struggles at their separation after 14 years of marriage, which saw Mr Holmes quickly move on to date relationship counsellor Katie Alexander, who is 22 years his junior.

Ms Langsford, who has a son Jack, 23, with the GB News presenter, said it has helped her unravel their romance, which lasted 27 years but ended in June 2024.

She said: ‘I started counselling when Eamonn and I separated, and I’m still having it. It is very powerful and very useful. It gives me tools to deal with things.

‘My counsellor has probably seen us on TV, but she doesn’t know either of us so doesn’t get involved and doesn’t judge. She just listens and says, ‘Have you thought about this?’ or ‘Why did you feel like that?’

‘I think I know myself very well, so it has just been calming. It makes me question how I’m feeling. When my sister died, friends suggested counselling and I said, ‘I don’t [want] just [for someone] to tell me that I’m really sad,’ and I still feel like that.

The stars you love, the drama you crave. Your unmissable daily showbiz update.

Ruth Langsford has told how she turned to therapy to cope with her acrimonious split from husband Eamonn Holmes .

The Loose Women presenter revealed her struggles at their separation after 14 years of marriage, which saw Mr Holmes quickly move on to date relationship counsellor Katie Alexander, who is 22 years his junior

‘The end of a very long relationship takes a lot of unravelling. Counselling helps you move on from it, to not be held back.’

Ms Langsford and Mr Holmes, both 65, announced their split 18 months ago after several months of arguing. He left the £2.5million family home in Weybridge

Some close to Ms Langsford say that she was fed up with caring for him following his hip operation but it later emerged that he was in a relationship with Ms Alexander – who he had met several years before.

There is no suggestion that Mr Holmes cheated on Ms Langsford, who appeared as anchors on ITV’s This Morning for a decade before they were axed in 2021.

They are yet to officially divorce and are currently at war over their money, with Ms Langsford apparently upset that they will have to sell the marital home, while Mr Holmes says he has been ‘ruined’ by HMRC after he became embroiled in a row with them over whether he was self-employed freelancer or a ‘disguised employee’ of ITV when presenting This Morning between 2011 and 2015.

But now, Ms Langsford say that she is now ready to find love again.

Speaking about moving on, she said: ‘I definitely see light in the future where I didn’t before. Before, I saw darkness and was thinking, ‘Oh my God, what’s going to happen?’ but now the fear [has] gone, because what do you do? Do you crumble? Do you lay down and die? Oh no, not I. I will survive.’

For the at home festive shoot, Ms Langsford dressed in a red sparkly figure-hugging gown for one look, whilst another photo saw her in a red tartan cape and a heeled boot.

Asked about whether she would begin a new relationship, she said: ‘Never say never. I haven’t been put off having a relationship. I haven’t even been put off marriage, but I’m definitely not actively looking, and part of that is because I’ve realised I’m actually quite good on my own. I am independent and quite strong.

‘It has taken me a bit of time [to realise that] and I don’t know what lies ahead, but that chapter now feels quite exciting. It’s not as scary as I thought.’

Ruth split from Eamonn in June 2024 after 14 years of marriage (pictured on This Morning in 2021)

For the at home festive shoot, Ruth looked sensational as she dressed in a red sparkly figure-hugging gown for one look

In another she opted for a red tartan cape and a chunky heeled boot as she showed off her radiant complexion

She added: ‘I haven’t even been put off marriage, but I’m definitely not actively looking, and part of that is because I’ve realised I’m actually quite good on my own’

She added: ‘It has taken me a bit of time [to realise that] and I don’t know what lies ahead, but that chapter now feels quite exciting. It’s not as scary as I thought’

For her final look she wrapped up in a stylish cream coat with fur collar

The couple have a son, 23-year-old Jack, together and previously hosted ITV’s Friday episode of This Morning as a married couple until they were axed in 2021 to be replaced by Alison Hammond and Dermot O’Leary.

Speaking to Woman & Home last year she said: ‘I’m not delighted my marriage is over, but I’ve accepted that my marriage is over, so I am trying to now embrace the fact that I’m single and can make choices that are just about me.’

Ruth has been focusing on herself in recent months. She marked her 65th birthday in March with two close friends at an all-inclusive resort on the Caribbean island of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines.

She shared a montage of holiday photos with her followers, including snaps with A Place In The Sun presenter Lucy Alexander. She wrote: ‘Sun, sea, sand, MANY cocktails and laughing until we cried!

‘Perfect. Wonderful accommodation, beautiful beaches, fabulous restaurants, great spa and, as much as I love them, no children!!’

A source also previously said Ruth is not considering a new relationship until her divorce is finalised.

As Ruth Langsford moved further into the quiet aftermath of her separation, she began to realize that healing did not arrive in a single sweeping transformation but in small, delicate waves that touched her life in subtle ways. Some days arrived gently, wrapped in the softness of routine and simple comforts. Others came crashing in, heavy with memories she had tried to set aside—memories of shared laughter, private jokes, quiet mornings at the kitchen table, or the familiar rhythm of two people who once knew each other intimately. Therapy had taught her not to fear these waves, but to let them wash through her, acknowledging each emotion without allowing it to define her. Slowly, she learned to coexist with both the sorrow of the past and the emerging hope of her future. That space between what was and what could be became the landscape where she discovered who she truly was.

There were evenings when she returned home with a surprising lightness in her chest, as though a window had opened inside her. She would make a cup of tea, sit by the window, and allow herself to breathe in the quiet. Those moments felt like small victories—reminders that grief, while persistent, does not claim every hour of every day. Other nights, she found herself lingering over old photographs, listening to the echoes of a life she had once built with Eamonn, not because she wanted it back, but because it had shaped the person she had become. Therapy encouraged her to honor those memories without clinging to them, to appreciate them without idealizing them, and to release them without resenting them. Healing required balance: remembering without drowning, grieving without surrendering, hoping without rushing.

She often reflected on how terrifying the future had seemed in the early days of the split. The world felt too big, too loud, too unpredictable. But as weeks passed, she began to notice that life was offering her small gestures of reassurance. A stranger’s smile in a café. A friend’s unexpected message. A morning where she woke up feeling rested for the first time in months. Healing wasn’t dramatic—it was quiet, subtle, patient. And in that patience, Ruth discovered her own capacity for strength. She had spent so many years being “strong for others” that she had forgotten she deserved her own softness too. Therapy helped her reclaim that gentleness.

Sometimes, her therapist would ask questions that lingered with her long after the session ended. “Who are you now?” “What do you want for yourself—not as a presenter, not as a wife, but as Ruth?” These questions began to shape her internal landscape. For so long, she had been one half of a partnership—one half of a public identity—and now she was learning how to define herself without that anchor. At first, the thought overwhelmed her. But gradually, she began to see possibility instead of loss. She realized that endings carve space for beginnings. She realized that letting go of one version of herself made room for another to grow.

There were days when she still felt the ache of loneliness, a kind of hollow space that echoed when she walked through her home. But even loneliness had evolved—it no longer terrified her. Therapy helped her understand that loneliness isn’t proof of emptiness; sometimes it is simply the quiet required for transformation. In those quiet hours, she learned to listen to herself. She learned to understand her fears rather than suppress them. She learned to soothe her own anxieties with compassion rather than criticism. These emotional shifts—though invisible to others—carried enormous weight for her.

As she reflected on the possibility of loving again, Ruth felt a mixture of fear and wonder. It wasn’t that she was searching for a relationship, nor was she rushing toward one. Instead, therapy had revealed something powerful: the heart’s ability to renew itself. She didn’t need to force anything. She didn’t need to close herself off. She didn’t need to pretend she was unaffected by the collapse of her marriage. All she needed was honesty—with herself, and with anyone she might meet in the future. Her therapist often reminded her that healing does not mean forgetting the past; it means integrating it in a way that no longer controls the present.

She began to imagine what a future relationship might look like—not in the sense of choosing a specific person, but in envisioning the type of connection that aligned with her newly rediscovered self. She pictured companionship rooted in mutual respect and shared joy rather than obligation or familiarity. She imagined a relationship where she felt appreciated not only for her strength but also for her softness. She imagined a love that allowed both people to grow individually without fear of drifting apart. These visions didn’t cause grief—they sparked curiosity. And that curiosity was, in many ways, one of the clearest signs of her healing.

Her friends noticed the change in her long before she fully recognized it. They saw her shoulders relax, her laughter return, her tone soften. They saw her talk about herself with more clarity and confidence. They watched her reenter the world not as someone broken but as someone rebuilding. Ruth would often downplay this progress, insisting she was simply “taking things one day at a time.” But those closest to her knew what it truly meant: she was reclaiming her life.

There were moments, of course, when memories of her marriage resurfaced with unexpected intensity. She would stumble upon old anniversary cards, gifts, or photographs that carried emotional weight. Instead of suppressing the surge of feeling, she allowed herself to sit with it. Therapy had taught her the importance of acknowledging emotions rather than avoiding them. She would take a breath, remind herself that grief is a sign of love, and then gently move forward. Each time she did this, she felt a little stronger.

Even her perspective on Eamonn shifted through therapy. The hurt did not disappear, but it softened. She could see him not as the villain of her story but as someone who had been hurting in his own way, someone whose struggles had collided painfully with her own. She could recognize his humanity even as she acknowledged the reasons their marriage ended. This perspective freed her from bitterness, leaving space for gratitude—gratitude for the good years, the partnership they built, the family they raised, and even the challenges that ultimately shaped her into a more resilient version of herself.

As spring approached, Ruth felt a kind of emotional thawing. She found herself stepping outside more often, spending time in nature, reconnecting with activities she had set aside. She began to enjoy her own company in ways she never imagined possible. She felt comfortable going to a café alone, taking long walks, or reading late into the night without feeling the absence of another person. This newfound peace was one of the most profound gifts therapy had given her: the ability to feel whole on her own.

Still, the possibility of future love lingered gently in her thoughts—not as a goal, but as a natural part of life. She learned that opening one’s heart again isn’t an act of betrayal to the past; it is an act of honoring the lessons love provided. She understood that she was not the same woman she had been when she first married Eamonn, and she would not be the same woman if she ever chose to marry again. Love evolves as people evolve. And she was evolving into someone stronger, softer, wiser.

One evening, after therapy, she found herself reflecting deeply on her journey. She realized that the woman who had walked into her first session had been afraid—afraid of the future, afraid of being alone, afraid of losing a part of her identity, afraid of what healing might uncover. Now, she was no longer afraid. She was curious. She was open. She was ready to embrace life with a sense of purpose rather than fear. And that shift was the true measure of her emotional recovery.

She didn’t need to rush into anything—not love, not commitment, not marriage. But she also didn’t need to close herself to those possibilities. If love arrived, she would welcome it. If it didn’t, she would still thrive. Her fulfillment no longer depended on partnership; it depended on authenticity. She was building a life rooted in emotional honesty.

Ruth’s story became an unexpected symbol of resilience. Fans who had watched her for years now saw her in a new light—not just as a television personality, but as a woman navigating the complexities of heartbreak with courage and grace. Many reached out to her with their own stories of endings and beginnings, forming an unspoken community of individuals learning to heal. Her openness about therapy helped others seek help themselves. Her willingness to consider love again gave others permission to dream beyond their pain. In sharing her vulnerability, she had unknowingly become a beacon of hope for those walking similar paths.

And as she embraced this new chapter of her life, Ruth realized that healing is not about rebuilding what was lost—it is about creating something new with the wisdom gained. Her life was expanding, not shrinking. Her heart was opening, not closing. Her journey was unfolding, not ending.

Therapy had guided her to a place she never expected: a place of inner peace. From that place, she could look back on her marriage with compassion, look at herself with pride, and look toward the future with quiet excitement. She no longer feared the unknown. She welcomed it.

Whether she marries again someday is not the point. The point is that she knows she could. She knows she is capable of loving again. She knows she deserves a relationship built on mutual care, joy, respect, and emotional health. And she knows that whatever the future holds—whether it includes a new partner, a new marriage, or a fulfilling life lived independently—she will meet it with a heart that has been broken, healed, and strengthened.

Because Ruth Langsford learned the most profound truth therapy can offer:

A broken heart is not the end of love.
It is the beginning of a new kind of love—
one that starts within.