The day I left my husband was one of the most difficult days I’ve ever had to endure, and quite frankly I hope I never have to experience a day like that again. Things had been getting worse for several months prior to my leaving, but things really started escalating back in January, when I started doing a counseling course on the different types of abusive behaviour. Ironically, the reason I started doing the course had nothing to do with my husband, but because of the mental breakdown I’d had at the end of last year, due to a previous abusive relationship. As I got further an further into the course, my husband’s behaviour and drinking deteriorated. I will go into that over time, in its own post, because it just beggars belief. Anyway, after having a meeting with a debt advisor, having had a really rough week of arguments and having accusations thrown at me, I found myself wandering around town and ended up at the quayside staring into the tidal river and wanting to jump. Only the thought of what my husband would do to my dogs kept me from jumping in. At that point, I contacted the lady who was running the course, and asked if I could come and talk as I was in crisis. She said yes. Twenty minutes or so later I found myself sat opposite her, spewing out everything I’d been keeping inside. At that point, only my 3 closest friends knew what was going on. I told her everything, I played some of the videos I’d managed to secretly record during some of the arguments, and I even let her see the nasty messages and voicemail I’d got from him 3 weeks prior, when I was away visiting my best friend. This took place on a Thursday. She asked me if I wanted to get out, and with tears streaming down my face, I nodded. The argument the night before was enough to push me over the edge. I knew at that point, if i didn’t get out, I would end up dead, either by his hand or mine. She asked me if I had an idea of what area I’d like to move to, so I told her the area in the vicinity of my best friend. Not too close as I knew there was a chance my husband would go looking for me there, but close enough that we could visit. The counselor, I’ll refer to her as “H”, rang the refuge in that area, and was told that they had a self contained, one bedroom, ground floor flat available, and they’d ring me that afternoon to go through all the questions they needed to ask. At that point, I got the bus home, made dinner for my husband, and with the excuse of having a migraine I went to lay in my bed and await the call. The call came through at 3pm, and half an hour later, “K” told me that she’d discuss it with the team, and call me the day with an answer, but she did say she didn’t see anything in my answers that would ring alarm bells. That night I laid awake all night tossing and turning. What had I done? not only had I contacted the police on my return home from visiting my friend, but now everything was getting very, very real. I was terrified. Everyone had said to me not to act any differently, not to raise alarm bells for him. The next morning I woke him up as normal with his cup of coffee, and he drove me to my counseling session, complaining the entire way. I updated H as to what K had said, and that I was waiting for her to call me back. That course session I couldn’t focus. Even though it was just a mere 4 weeks ago, without getting all my notes out, I couldn’t tell you what that session was on. After the session was finished, I got the bus back to the village, only my husband “M” wasn’t waiting for me in the car. I waited around for about 5 minutes before calling him. He knew I was on that bus because I’d called him to tell him, but he was still at home on the sofa. I said I’d start walking up the road towards him, to which he said “No! Stay there. I don’t want anyone to see you!” The village bus stop is 1.5 miles from our house, it only takes a few minutes to drive it…..and yet it took him 25 minutes to get up to the bus stop to collect me. As soon as I was in the car, before I even had my seat belt on, he said “You can make me egg sandwiches when we get in. Consider it payment for the taxi service”. Since when do you have to PAY your spouse to drive you somewhere?! Especially if it is something medical related. Anyway, to keep the peace I made the sandwiches, and then went to lay down. I still had a blazing migraine, which in the end, lasted 5 days. K rang about an hour later, and offered me the flat. I accepted, and plans were made for me to get the train up on the following Monday. That was it. Just 4 days from the initial phone call, to me getting on a train with a suitcase and 2 dogs, and traveling 400 miles to freedom. When I messaged H to tell her, she said that was the fastest she’s ever known it happen, in the 25+ years she has been doing the job.